========================================================================
Posted Monday, June 29, 2009 at 8:41 a.m.
Message From Shani
I just finished a 7 mile run in 95 degree, stifling Atlanta weather. I have about 25 stitches in 5 different places on my arms and torso from surgery I had on Monday the 22nd (I had to get it done now because my health insurance through Shani’s job expires this coming Wednesday.) I put her Ipod to “all songs” and “shuffle” and let her play DJ as I have for the last few weeks. This was the first physical activity I’ve had since the surgery and can tell you that without that release and endorphin kick I get from exercising regularly, the coping has been a bit difficult as of late. However, she inspired me today and continues to do so much in the same way she did when she was here, I was just a bit less aware then, I guess. I know this much right now-she does not want anyone to look at her life as if it were cut short at all. She wishes for people to see hers as a life fully lived with an opportunity to give back and help others grow without having to go through some of the suffering and strife that she endured in her 40 years in our physical world. To say she was wise beyond her years would be selling her so short. She was wise beyond this life. You’ve never met another person with such a desire to become a better expression of her beautiful soul nor the inner strength and determination to find herself, her place in this world. I can write that with such a sense of certainty, it’s just simple to do.
Today I feel compelled to tell the first of many stories I hope to share with everyone about Shani’s life and purpose here on earth, and I wish to inspire, motivate, heal and love in ways that only Shani’s spirit can guide me to do. You see, as she spoke to me in her last text message that Tuesday morning, “I get you Babe ;) ” And she did. She got me. She knew me, and always seemed to be just one step ahead of me in this journey of life. And now, through her death, I am truly getting to know the woman I am so honored to have spent the last 11 years with. She still gets me and sees me as a way to channel her message of survival and triumph she was preparing to do herself. Shani was going to write her own book, so consider this the first of many messages she is going to have for all of us.
Here it goes…
When Shani was just 21 years old, her mother was shot and killed by her father. When she lost her mom, she lost her family. The matriarch of her family, her grandmother, died that same year of a broken heart as Shani described it, having lost her only child and daughter to such a violent crime. I was with Shani in ’99 when her father died in prison, and we went to the funeral. As if taking her mother wasn’t enough, her father left her a dollar in his will, even though he had some money in a bank on the outside, simply out of hate for her not visiting him while he was locked up. I was sickened.
My wife and soul mate, Shani Fecht, was brutally shot and killed 20 years later, just 25 days ago on June 2nd, 2009 by her own son. In reading about these tragic events this way or seeing the story sensationalized on TV or in the papers, it’s difficult not to think of her life as simply one of sorrow and loss, but I know differently and it’s my responsibility to deliver the truth. Other than her brother and her son who’s now in prison, I am her only living family. I lived with and loved her long enough to know that she is now simply freed of the shackles of this existence, only to allow the true essence of her spirit that those she loved knew so well to fully shine through to the rest of the world. If you’re open to it, her experiences will bring more joy, acceptance and love to your life. It has for me.
In Shani’s journey after the death of her mother, she didn’t have the support system that I have to work with in the amount of friends and family currently coming to my aid. She searched the world for spiritual and emotional direction through journaling, reading, meditation and an inquisitive mind always asking others about their experiences and work toward self discovery. And through the years, Shani also found solace and relief in treating her body well. She was comfortable in her own skin because she took good care of it. Exercise was a huge part of both of our lives, and what we chose as our activities evolved through the years as did our relationship. At 30 and 25 when we met in the gym where I ran my training business, both of us were into strength training and cardio because it made us look good. Feeling well was just a byproduct of all of the hard work. At 40 and 35 now, yoga had become our primary source of exercise along with cycling and running, but yoga certainly being the common denominator for us both. She gave that gift to me. Actually, she forced it on me, and for that I am blessed. We found that this path made us feel better physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. And now, looking better was the byproduct of our efforts. She became a full fledged vegetarian, eating raw foods as well and studied holistic healing. She was on a mission seeking inner peace and tranquility through meditation and preached her way of living to anyone who would listen, becoming a source of light for many people prior to her passing. She is a survivor even today, and will live on forever in those who refuse to let her message die with her physical form. THAT would be tragic, she would say.
So, having just completed a hard run stitched up like Frankenstein’s monster, and the love of my life taken from me…us, so violently just 25 days ago, I challenge everyone to get out and do SOMETHING physical over the next couple of days. Do it for your mental health. Do it to feel better. Do it to get closer to God, or however you define your higher power. That’s what Shani did and that’s the message she’s sending today. No matter your situation, it will only improve by taking care of yourself physically. I know she’s got a lot more to say and I feel that so much more will be revealed as we move forward, but today the message is to be proactive. If you’re not feeling good about yourself or are unhappy with the way you look or feel, heed her message, draw from her strength and lose the self centered pity. She loved life and didn’t have a whole lot to say about others complaining about their mostly minor roadblocks considering the pain that she fought through. Today she’s simply suggesting you change your situation in a positive way by saying, “Do something! Anything!”
Many people I speak with can’t believe I’m functioning the way that I am. They can only see things from their perspective, and that’s ok. Based on what we’re told to think, I’m supposed to fall apart, not be able to get out of bed or just quit living altogether. Shani would not be happy with me at all if I allowed that to happen. She would wonder why we worked so hard to get where we did just to let it go to waste. Shani and I saw things from our own, different point of view. From where we sit, she has simply transformed and is now fully part of a higher consciousness that we will only truly know once we reach that point and experience it for ourselves. I can attest that our relationship has just shifted and the power of her influence has increased exponentially. She is everywhere now, revealing herself in many different forms to numbers of people.
Don’t think for one minute that I don’t break down or am avoiding having to deal with my loss in any way. It’s absolutely overwhelming on a daily, actually hourly, basis. I grieve, cry and long for her every minute. It crushes me and makes me physically ill. I hurt for Zeke and know that Shani has her arms wrapped around him now as he goes through the hell he has created for himself. I fear going to sleep at night because it means I have to wake up to the realization that my wife was shot and killed by the person that she loved more than any other. And upon wakening, I always have these visions of our life together that flash in front of my eyes as they do when someone is dying in a movie-just like that. And straight out of nowhere I have knee buckling moments that literally take my breath away and send me reeling all of the time. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
But she carries me through. She shows me the way. She would say that we went through far too much for me to turn my back on the hundreds of lessons we learned during our precious time together and that I should write and share them with others as she planned to do. As one of our mutually favorite gurus Wayne Dyer would say, Shani died because she was supposed to. Why was she supposed to die? Because she did. Same thing with her mother. And in doing so, their lives fully lived have brought me to deliver this message to you. We do have a choice as to what we decide to do with all of this. And knowing them both as I do, they want us to change, grow and become better people through self awareness via physical, mental and emotional exercise! That’s what Shani did and I will continue to follow her lead.
Good luck, God bless and Namaste.
Shani and Mike
6/27/2009
========================================================================
Posted July 22, 2009 at 9:35 p.m.
Soundtrack To My Life
I’ve had a number of people reach out recently asking if I have had any more signs from Shani since I hadn’t written anything in awhile. I’m sure some were wondering if maybe I was just reaching when I said I felt channeled or that listening to Shani’s I-pod was only a way of coping. They probably figured I would eventually come down to earth and realize I was looking for something that wasn’t there. However, what’s hard to imagine and completely too much for a lot of people to grasp (some will simply deny the possibility), is that my life, almost every minute, is being led by signs, signals, messages, or whatever you want to call them. I follow them practically all day every day, and it’s just impossible to record it all. If I tried, I would be writing all of the time and not experiencing what’s actually going on around me.
Anyone who has spent even 30 minutes with me since her passing (and there are plenty from all different backgrounds and religious denominations) knows exactly what I’m talking about. These signs and messages are too real for me to make up. In fact, one of my friends actually commented the other day that she couldn’t believe that I would even question them anymore. For those of you who don’t understand, I’m talking about Shani “speaking” directly to me. Yes, directly to me, communicating through a variety of means, from a variety of sources. Some would say I’m crazy, some would say I’m trying to cling to something that is gone, and yet others will just shake their heads in amazement, bewildered, confused, and wondering, “Could it be?”
I get it; I mean, it’s difficult for me to understand and even accept at times, but there are people from diverse faiths and cultures that simply cannot deny what they have seen, heard, or felt. It’s not just me; others are experiencing it too. Since the day she passed, she’s been right here with me, with us.
As far as what’s going on with me personally at this point, sometimes it seems as if it has gotten harder. The feelings are so visceral now as the initial shock of what happened has begun to fade and the simple fact that she’s gone takes center stage in my brain. Couple that with the word “forever,” and the emotion floods my system. I’m still standing though. I miss her more than anyone could ever understand, but she would not accept my completely falling apart, and she has shown me that she is not going to allow that to happen.
Now before I go any further and start to lose some people (I’m sure I’ve already lost a few), I want to put a couple of things out there and ask that you save your judgment for later.
Shani considered herself to be a “Mystic” as she stated on her Facebook profile in her “Religious Views.” I can tell you that to her it simply meant that through God, all things were possible. While she didn’t attach herself to any specific religion(s), she was very well versed in all of the world religions and really drew from the beauty that she could find in all of them. That was Shani.
Wikipedia states, “The Mystic’s goal is to reach for the highest level of soul perfection, which is to be filled with the Holy Spirit, to have Christ or Buddha consciousness and to live God’s will.” That was Shani too. She truly believed that she could communicate with her mother and grandmother much in the same way that I believe that she is contacting me. Those that knew the depth of our relationship when it came to our beliefs and had a simple understanding of the soul-searching she went through when she lost her mother, along with how suddenly and shockingly she left us would agree that if anyone could pull off getting back to us “from the other side,” it would be Shani. There is no way she would settle for leaving so quickly with all of us left behind wondering, “Why?” If the ability to reach out and provide a positive influence was there somehow, she would jump at it. And THAT is exactly what I see her doing. And, again, it is not just me. In fact, there are probably some people who are reading about this for the first time who have already had their own experiences.
It’s hard to write a story about your life while it is happening and you are living it. My days are filled with reading, writing, running, cycling, yoga, meditation and staying close to friends and family. Music is always playing in the background, a soundtrack to my life. I have been listening to it nearly non-stop since her passing, and I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt…no, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt…that she is speaking to me through the songs. She is playing DJ to my grief, healing, and growth. Sometimes it is one song played at just the perfect time. Sometimes it’s a series of songs that all make sense together. I will expand more on this later, but music has become a backdrop for my existence and my sanity.
Over the last week, I’ve really struggled with the fact that while this presence of Shani is wonderful and most people would give anything to have even a snippet, the reality is that she’s gone forever. For awhile, I was extremely pissed at her for leaving me! Then a couple of days ago, a friend of mine said that he had finally accepted all of this, the signs, etc., as “real” and was done fighting it. So, I believe I have to let go, accept them for what they are and just be grateful that she’s here.
Some days I experience having her around more often than not, and it’s amazing. I can sit and type with the I-pod playing and a series of songs will just blow through making me laugh, cry and scratch my head all at the same time. Actually, I was just going to write about how one song inspired me on a recent run, but as I sat down to write this, Shani decided to say hello and persuade me otherwise with a string of songs right then and there…
In all honesty, I’ve accepted this as “real” since the day after she was killed. She made it very clear to me when I first walked in the house that she was going to make sure that everything went as smoothly as possible and that she was right by my side (more on that later, too). I’ve really just been following her lead, doing what I know she would want me to do to the best of my ability, and that’s how I plan on continuing to live my life. I am letting go completely, accepting these signs, this communication, for what it is--a message from Shani saying, “There’s another side and I am here.”
From hearing and following her messages to friends and family carrying me through, I’ve obviously had enough to keep going, because here I am.
So, right now I am in the process of taking all that has happened, is happening, and will happen on this journey and putting it together in a way that will hopefully, at the very least, make people ask the question, “What if?”
I already know the answer.
Thanks, Babe. Talk to you soon.
Mike
========================================================================
Posted August 21, 2009 at 12:43 p.m.
Family and Friends Update August 21
Hello All-
With so much going on right now, I wanted to take the opportunity to put an update out there as to where I am in this whole process of what sometimes seems like The Twilight Zone to many, I'm sure. But I'm right in the middle of it. I can't shake it off, sleep it away or run fast enough to lose it. This is my life, and I will live it.
Thanks for taking the time to catch up along the way...
August 21, 2009
Family and Friends,
I can’t thank you enough for all of the love and support I continue to receive on what seems an hourly basis on most days. The phone calls, text messages, FB contact and e-mails are so touching, and I hope that it remains that way for a very long time. I need every bit of it and have absolutely no problem expressing that to all of you. It's now been 11 weeks since Shani was killed. I’ve heard on a number of occasions from some of my closest friends that they don’t want to bother me, so they don’t reach out. Please, feel free to let it fly even if I don’t respond right away, I do soak in the positive energy immediately. One thing I’m sure I share with any of you that have ever experienced any kind of loss, especially so tragic and life altering, is that feeling of being so emotionally raw, stripped to your core completely, that your moods can change in a split second. The most mundane, normal comment from a friend may send you reeling. At the same time, you’re able to handle what you might think would be a knee breaking moment because you’re in the right frame of mind or just remembering the good times. It’s certainly a time of tidal waves when just staying afloat has to be good enough quite often, and that constant support is essential.
It is in the “spaces between thoughts” as Madia posted on Shani’s wall the other day, that I feel her energy pour through. And while I’ve been able to harness that at times into an expression that inspired and moved some people, for which I am unbelievably permanently affected and grateful, there are those times when the human condition takes over and the grief and pain zaps you of every bit of strength; so much so that you could literally fall asleep after calming down. A very close friend of mine who has endured a tragedy himself explained to me that in his instance it never gets easier, but your mind does you the favor of letting bits and pieces of it fall away through time. I can see that. In such a short amount of time, I have that hope. He also explained that you have to focus on the result, not the “how”. My “how”, unfortunately, haunts me in that there are so many layers to it. I’ve got a duality in my life where, on one hand I have the challenge of grieving over the loss of my wife and moving on to establish a life of my own taking all of the love, lessons and history we shared and carrying it like a baton in a relay race through the finish line. That in itself is more than enough for anyone to have to handle and plenty to bury most. I promise. On the other hand, I have a pending murder trial for my stepson that admitted openly to the unconscionable act of shooting and killing his own mother because he was dissatisfied with his life and tired of her showing concern. He said that he knew that if he called her to come by that she would and then used the love she had for him to slaughter her. This is my reality, as morbid and twisted as it may be. So that is the ultimate test-stay focused on moving through the grieving process and going forward in light of the dark cloud looming overhead in the form of a trial and so many unanswered questions. I continue to put one foot in front of the other each day, although sometimes standing still is the safest option. And I know that’s got to be ok, too. There are times, days even, where I literally feel as if I live on my own planet, completely disassociated from everyone. And given what’s happened, all of these things are normal, however you care to define that.
I’ve continued to write through all of this, although admittedly the tone of late has been a bit dark for me to feel comfortable posting for all to read-something completely new to me, but part of the process, I’m sure. And while I still have many, many uplifting stories yet to pull together about “Signs from Shani”, I’m realizing that it will all come in time. I can’t force it.
I shared one of my recent entries with another very good friend who actually found it to be alarming in how deeply I expressed the pain I was feeling. He felt as if it was a cry for help in some kind of way when what I was sharing is just real to me. The fact is that sometimes emotions run deeper than you could even begin to fathom. It’s simply amazing to me how black and deep the corners and caverns of our minds can be, and how lost you feel when the current takes you there. And if you’ve not been there, you don’t know. But for those that have, we know that these times and feelings do pass if you let them. No one would ask for the horrific thoughts, sleep deprivation or frightening mental breaks, but they barge through as if someone kicked in the door to your brain. You move through them, or, they move through you, I should say. And I’m learning daily to let them come and go, even if they cripple me for a moment, however long that may be. There has to be a release valve. To hang on or simmer in all of that muck and fog allows for a manifestation of negative consequences, and that I understand. For me, this is simply not an option although it is an incredible struggle at times. The best I can do is to let my principles guide me through the darkness and let go of what I cannot control, which is everything except for my approach to my own state of mind and responses to the realities I am forced to face.
With that, my current focus is on living and finding a place to lay my head for now. Our home in Atlanta was our home, not mine. And frankly, I’ve made peace with that after spending the 2 months following Shani’s death there before hitting the road for a bit of travel. I had a wonderful time visiting family and friends across Northern Illinois where I grew up. And after the last couple of weeks in Florida, I’ve decided to stay down here for an extended period. My time in Atlanta has passed and it’s time for me to find a place where I can have some peace of mind; the beach has always been that for me. Shani and I shared so many amazing times on the water in Florida, Jamaica and Mexico that at first I was very uncomfortable even near the ocean. “How could a place that’s always provided so much tranquility during the most difficult times of my life make me make me feel so uneasy?” I questioned myself, “Did he take that from me, too?” But the more time I’ve spent down here, the more I’ve gotten back to myself enjoying the runs, rides, reading and soul searching with the waves splashing in the background as my soundtrack. It’s still healing and it hasn’t gone anywhere. I had to work through that piece too, and now I have.
I have such an incredible core group of friends that have literally opened their arms here that this is where I want and need to be. They allow me to express myself, make me laugh hysterically and inspire me creatively as well. Their support is unwavering. I’ll have the time I need alone while also being surrounded by wonderful people...at the beach. Everyone in Atlanta has been amazing, and while I have an extremely caring and loving network there, it’s time for me to move on. I am blessed to have their support in this journey and look forward to a new start down here for now. I will be enjoying the warm weather this winter, that’s for certain, and I believe this will give me the time and space I need to collect myself, gather my thoughts and get to “what’s next” at some point. I need to feel grounded and look forward to doing so with my toes in the sand for the time being.
So much is yet to be revealed and this is one hell of a unique journey. I thank God every day for my daughter and how she makes me laugh and inspires me with HER creativity, humor, love and beautiful personality. I do know how blessed I am for my family and friends all over the country and thank all of you for hanging in there with me and working through this together. Many of you loved Shani so dearly. Please know that the feelings are reciprocated for honoring her through the strength and solid foundation you’ve provided for me and my family through all of this.
I’m sure we’ll catch up soon…
Mike
========================================================================
Posted August 26, 2009 at 3:24 p.m.
Good-bye Atlanta
I began to write last night about my experience going to our home in Atlanta one last time, but couldn't find the right words to describe closing the door on so many things. It was emotional to say the least. Friends and family are looking after the place now and will have a moving sale, etc. in my absence. But this weekend, I drove from FL for a quick trip to label storage bins, organize the rest of our things and grab some essentials. I debated for a while as to whether or not I was even going to go back, but realized that I had to do it. It was a very spontaneous decision to do so at that specific time, but when I get the inspiration, I'm running with it. I went through 41 years of her life, including the 10 spent with me and 4 in our loft downtown. Fact is, there were things that I needed to handle and no one else could do them for me. Thank God for Paul being there. You're something else, dude. What took 4 years to decorate came down in an hour. Surreal? Yeah, just a bit...
I said goodbye to our home Monday morning, and then I left alone. I cried, gave Paul a big hug and then took his advice, "Haul ass and don't look back." After a couple of days to reflect, I'm good with it and the way it went down. Like I said, it's another door I had to walk through in this journey, and I'm glad that I did, and that it's over. No regrets. I know I'm following the right path, it's just having to ask yourself constantly whether or not you're willing to face your fears, even as new ones present themselves, and then work through them as insurmountable as they may seem.
I'm taking a couple of days to decompress and find some balance in Daytona. I'm so excited about what awaits in Miami, and I am more than ready to feel settled again. It's a new beginning and a fresh start and I have to approach it that way. It's my only choice, but's it's a good one-certainly better than living a life consumed in sorrow and grief, even though that's the easier route, I think. I told a friend of mine a while back that if I jumped out of the window, people would say, "So sad, but I don't know what I would do in the same situation. It's understandable."
Ummmmm....not acceptable to me and it never will be. Let me be clear on that. I'm going to live, and I stress live, my life with a profound sensitivity I've received in all of this savoring my time here to the best of my ability, however long or short it may be. Shani wouldn't have it any other way. She's shown me that. Life is about the people you love and the time that you spend with them. Don't waste it.
Anyway, I couldn't think of a way to express myself without getting into too much intimate detail when this song by Ben Harper came on and said everything about what it was like to hit I-75 South.
Mike
========================================================================
Posted September 21, 2009 at 12:58 p.m.
Happy Anniversary Shani
9/21/09
My Dearest Shani,
I write this letter with joy in my heart, knowing that although the physical embodiment of our relationship no longer exists, the purity that is your uncaged soul remains with me as strong today as it ever has. 8 years ago when we said, “I do,” we took it literally, because WE DID! We did everything! And we did it together. Our marriage was certainly never stale, and like any other, we went through our difficult times but always came back stronger and more determined. We sought to become better individuals and supported each other’s growth, both knowing the best thing we could give to our relationship would be whole, strong selves. How could we expect to work things out ever…forever, if we weren’t comfortable in our own skin? Our marriage provided a concrete foundation in those quests to find that place, regardless of the struggle it caused. We had unbelievable faith in one another through the toughest of times. What an exciting and amazing journey we shared! We supported and loved one another. We argued and came together. We fell apart and rebuilt ourselves more than once, and then grew to levels that most people will never experience in this life in just 10 years as a couple. I’m fully aware of that now and thank you so much for that gift! They were the best years of my life…
Shani, I give great credit to the way that I’ve been able to handle losing you to the timing of your death and the fact that I’m in the best shape physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually that I’ve ever been. All of that comes from our time together. We grew. God, we grew! And I’ll do my best to carry that torch forward. I’m so proud of you. I had the honor of watching a young, beautiful mother grow into a sophisticated, cultured and loving humanitarian. I admire the strength and courage you exhibited in becoming a truly beautiful woman, and am absolutely honored to have been part of that process. You gave me yoga and holistic healing, among an incredible amount of other things. Whenever I felt the slightest bit ill, the tea started to flow, and I rarely got worse, most often recovering after a good night’s sleep. I know how much you loved me and you gave me more than I could have ever imagined.
We enjoyed a good debate, challenging each other, always having a counterpoint to the other’s stance, no matter the topic. We lived for diversity and welcomed those from all faiths and backgrounds into our lives, believing the best way to become better people would be to learn from other’s experiences equally as much as our own. That approach brought the most interesting, kind, crazy and wonderful people into our marriage along the way. Wow! The stories we wrote together... You were so inquisitive, always wanting to know what made people tick. We relished the opportunity to share our time and space with the best of friends, and we had so many. From Chattanooga to Atlanta, then New York and back to Atlanta again, and all of our other travels, we forged connections everywhere we went. And those people have become my support system in losing you. This multicolored, woven net caught and lifted me up when my wings left me for a time. With that support they are growing back, slowly but surely with yours and their help.
I have so many lessons I have learned from your life, our marriage, your death and the spiritual path and connection we will always share. Your energy gives me peace and strength, and I will remain grateful for the presence of your beautiful soul that walks with me daily.
So, on our 8th anniversary in this form, I am taking the day alone to honor you by releasing some of your ashes down at the beach, into the ocean, your favorite place of meditation and comfort. I’ll pray for you, Zeke and all people still suffering from the loss of your smile, compassion and incredible lust for life that we may all remain in a state of gratitude for the time that we had with you. I will soak up the sun and the water knowing that you are now in all things, guiding me for the rest of my life. Thank you so much for choosing me as your partner in your journey and for remaining with me in mine.
“Do you remember the 21st night of September?”
-Earth, Wind and Fire
I Love You…Always.
Mike
========================================================================
Posted January 10, 2010 at 7:29 p.m.
The Process
I took a hot yoga class this morning. It was a little, well, a lot too crowded for my typical taste. The funny twist to this is that a large part of yoga is the practice of non judgment and gratitude for things just as they are. So in truth the class really wasn’t too large, it was just as it was supposed to be. And on the way home, as I do most times during and after my practice, I thought of Shani and the gift she gave to me in yoga. When I go into my postures over the course of a class, she enters my thoughts. I think of her on the mat next to me, inspiring me to keep going just as she did when she was here in her physical form. She had such focus and concentration in her own practice, just one of the many qualities I admire about her. So, on that ride home I cried. I thought about how tragic it is that the world lost her beautiful soul and the inspiration she gave to so many allowed to witness her growth in moving beyond the personal struggle of losing her mother to violence 20 years ago. She had such inner strength and perseverance and the introspection she possessed was amazing.
And then my thoughts floated to the acceptance of “what is” much more quickly than usual. To continue looking at her death as a tragedy or a loss takes me away from that place of moving forward with peace and love, carrying those beautiful qualities she brought to my life and celebrating the wonderful lessons she has taught me through her life and death. The negative thoughts leave me stagnant, stuck in the muck of sorrow and grief, whereas acceptance brings peace of mind. But this is all part of the process, they say.
By mid October of last year, just a few months ago, I found myself mired in a fog. I was no longer moving forward and felt like I was starting to fall backward with no direction, losing strength on a daily basis. I was not sleeping and found it impossible to let go.
The night I received the call about Shani’s murder, I was in my office at my new job in South Florida. My dad flew down immediately to accompany me on our trip back to Atlanta the following morning. He arrived around midnight and we sat in a friend’s living room both knowing that no sleep was to be had. As my brain was spinning, I felt that the circumstances I then found myself in were so heavy and dark that the inevitable impending depression and grief that was to follow could kill me. And in that moment I looked at my father and said, “I’m not gonna be that guy, dad. If I was to go home and jump off the roof, people will say that it’s tragic, but given my situation, it’s also understandable. I’m not gonna be that guy. I don’t know how we’re going to get through this, I really don’t, but we will.” And right then and there, the process that became a new awareness in my life began.
I started doing. I look back at those first couple of weeks and the things I was able to accomplish from meeting with detectives the following morning, my private visitation with her a few days later, speaking at her memorial and even attending Zeke’s first hearing, and realize that I was in a state of shock, but I kept going. I woke up alone every morning in our bed, in a place I wasn’t supposed to be, broke down and then got up, fixed the coffee and took a walk. I repeated that cycle every day. I started training shortly thereafter, running and cycling. I practiced yoga even though I found myself overcome emotionally, hyperventilating at times in the middle of class. And I just kept pushing through. All too often there were moments in silence where I just wanted it all to end, I wanted to die. I would scream for God to please release me of all this pain and take me away, but eventually I would gather myself and drive forward. Then I started traveling. I needed to get away, I thought. I went to Chicago a couple of times, Miami and Las Vegas. I packed my car and moved to Florida. The beach was where I needed to be, away from all of the reminders of my previous life. I was determined to keep going and win this struggle.
And then in October, when everything was finally moved out of the house in Atlanta and there was really nothing major left to accomplish associated with Shani outside of the impending trial, I found myself completely lost. From the very beginning I found things to do to escape the reality of what was. It was all part of my process I guess, and frankly, I am eternally grateful for those times. I will never forget them and the people that carried me through and battled alongside me, allowing me to vent and fall apart with no judgment. But at that moment when all was said and done and everyone else was moving on with their lives, I was absolutely incapable of doing the same with mine. I couldn’t outrun, out ride, out yoga, out read or out write it. No matter what I did, my life was waiting for me as soon as I slowed down and I simply could not face it.
I sought help from some people that had experience dealing with trauma and grief who forced me to stop, quit doing and to just sit with all that was and all that is. I could no longer run from my demons. I felt like I was strapped to a chair as the waves of emotions and pain tore me to shreds, ripped me apart and exposed me to the horrors and the truth of my existence. I was told that whatever this was, what I was experiencing and my response to it was all “part of the process,” and that it is different for everyone. What does that mean, I thought? For someone as regimented as me, needing structure and guidelines to go from Point A. to Point B., I wanted to know what I needed to do! It’s like the hundreds of people who continue to say, “It’s just going to take some time…” I was infuriated! What are the steps I am supposed to follow? What are the rules? What are these stages I need to go through and where do we start? If I move through the denial phase and on to accepting her death, will I then be ok? And then I was told that maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t; at least not necessarily. The ambiguity and uncertainty of it all kept pounding on me as if each morning I would wake up and get hit square in the face with a baseball bat only to start fresh the next day with the same exact experience. It was just like the movie Groundhog Day except with a Stephen King element. What is that?!!? I wanted to be ok, just ok… And then I was to learn that the only rule for this experience was not to hurt myself or anyone else. Outside of that it’s all “part of the process," over and over. Part of the process, part of the process, part of the process….again and again and again.
It’s like peeling away the layers of an onion. As soon as you move through one, another presents itself. All you need is the faith and courage to sit still in the silence and continue to surrender to the universe, to God. It may sound simple, but it is certainly not easy. For me it still is impossible to carry the entire weight of everything that has happened over the last 7 months in an instant; hence, the process is unique to us all. No one ever lived my life until that fateful day in June that changed everything for me, and no one else has walked in my size 12’s and lost my wife so brutally at the hands of a young man I’ve known and loved since he was a little boy. My process is mine and mine alone just as everyone else lives with their own joy, sadness, wonderment and path of progress exclusive to themselves.
So I take myself back to that drive home this morning. I wiped the tears from my eyes as I resumed the familiar thoughts of acceptance and gratitude I have tried so hard to cultivate as of late. I am most certainly in a better place now than I was a few months ago and hope to continue on this road of spiritual and emotional growth that the universe has placed at my feet. And for now, today, in this moment, I realize that I am not stuck. I am doing by being. I am moving forward by sitting still. I am taking action through prayer and meditation. I am accepting of where I am. I am allowing the process to happen, for the darkness to move through and the light to take over. And I think of others dealing with loss and tragedy or just overwhelming difficult times in their lives like the loss of a loved one, a job, a home or just flat out tough times. I pray that they too may find space to breathe, some peace of mind and an inner calmness to trust that all is really good in the stillness of this process we call life.
Peace.
Mike
========================================================================
Posted June 2, 2010 at 7:51 a.m.
June 2
“I do believe in the Spirit of God. That part of humankind that is the ‘eternal voice of existence.’”
– from the personal journal of Shani (Strickland) Fecht May 6, 2006
It’s time to go. I’m headed out on an all too familiar jaunt down I-75 South to Atlanta. One more day, another benchmark on my journey. I’m reaching a new milestone on this unfamiliar path that was forged on June 2nd, 2009. The music will be loud, emotions will be heavy and tears will most certainly be flowing as I drive down the highway on a trip I’ve made a thousand times. I know the landmarks along the way so well that I can predict almost to the minute how long it will take me to get the city that I call home. I’m going somewhere new today though, to a place I have visited in my mind at least a million times, a place I know as well as any other on the planet even though I’ve never actually been there. I am going to the site where Shani died. I am making the trip alone; I have to. Today I will stand at my personal Ground Zero, the epicenter of the event that changed my life forever, and I will honor my late wife. The cell phone will be off and all electronic contact with the outside world disconnected as I personally go within my soul to face the demons that have haunted me for the last year.
I will also visit Pura Vida in the beautiful mountains of Dahlonega, Georgia, where we held her memorial. I’ll sit under the willow tree that was planted in remembrance of Shani, spread some of her ashes and lay back in meditation on a blanket. I’ll seek the amazing spiritual presence that permeated the air that evening last June when friends and family gathered to celebrate Shani’s life, and I’ll be looking for the hawk that flew behind me as I spoke that night. I almost expect it to be there.
This day has been weighing on my mind like the inevitable conclusion to a sad movie you’ve seen before but have to watch again and again. As time ticked on, I knew that it would arrive eventually. But over the last month or so, the weight has become heavier and heavier and I began reliving the events of last year more frequently, thinking about the conversations we had, our last days together and the text messages and e-mails that I saved. I thought of where we were and what we were doing, going about our lives doing the best we could at the time, neither of us having any clue of the evil lurking behind closed doors, completely unaware of the blinding rage and anger that would eventually explode through the barrel of a 9 mm carbine rifle.
The sleepless nights suddenly returned. The nightmares came back and the desperation seemed to crush me out of nowhere. But there was also a dual existence emerging. The knowledge of reaching the one year mark also filled me with hope. It was as if there would finally be some sense of closure, a turning point to hang my hat on. If I can get through these next few weeks, today, the day of the memorial on the 8th and her birthday on the 11th, there finally appears to be some light ahead. There are fresh opportunities to be had, for the person I am now, the man who has faced the gravest nightmare imaginable. I will have survived the unthinkable with a new chance at life again.
And today I will pray. I will lay flowers and burn incense. I will show love and humility. I will bring faith and forgiveness and understanding to a place where a young man’s inability to communicate the pain and personal internal torture he felt eventually manifested itself in violence toward the person he knew loved him the most.
I will cry.
But I will also bring a heart filled with gratitude. I knew Shani as well as any human being can ever know another, and she knew me. She knows me still. We know each other, and our connection has gotten stronger in her death than it ever could have been in our life together. You see, Shani has been my teacher, my guide and my mentor in this journey of facing her death. I have tried to connect with others who have experienced tragedy in their own lives, but who better to learn from than a woman whose own mother was murdered by her father 19 years before? I have her journals. I have her library of spiritual books that she used in finding her way through the forest of healing when she lost the most important person in her life. They are earmarked as if to say, “Hey babe, here, read this.” I have years of bearing witness to her pain and deep questioning, the introspective soul searching for a sense of purpose in a violent and turbulent world. I have her. The spirituality I have gained through this experience is immeasurable.
When Shani was murdered, and in the months to come, I would be stripped of everything I identified myself as in the material world. I not only lost my wife, the woman who stuck with me through thick and thin, good and bad, my best friend who believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself, but I would also see my career fall away. I was unable to work, and could barely function beyond breathing at times. I would lose my home. My privacy was raped. I would lose the very definition of who I thought I was. I would lose my mind.
I tried to hang on. I sought answers where there were none. I looked for comfort in external escapes to fill the gaping void that blasted through my being when the detective told me that night over the phone, “I’m sorry. She’s dead.”
In being stripped, however, I was brought to a bare bones existence, free of attachment. I was brought to a place where the only true connection I would have would be that of my soul and the source of my creation, the universal guiding force that connects all things, most commonly referred to as God.
Through time, I realized that I could either hold on to the fiery iron that would burn me to the bone or go within by letting go of misinterpreted human answers to questions that can, in truth, only be uncovered by the ethereal insight of the soul. Shani’s death presented me with an opportunity to travel to places that I can only describe as cosmic in nature.
It was as if a full sized mirror had suddenly been placed directly in front of me. I turned my back on it initially, afraid of what might be looking back at me. And when I finally gained the courage to look into my own eyes, to peer deep within, I had no idea who this person was anymore. I felt guilt and shame. I saw where I had failed as a son, brother, father, friend and husband. I punished myself for those shortcomings and wondered how I could allow myself to live. My ego faulted me for not having been able to save her and I placed unrealistic expectations on myself for who I was supposed to have been. But in my search for personal forgiveness and grace, I would come to understand myself for what I really am, human.
And through time, I learned to close my eyes and see with better vision than I ever thought imaginable. I would begin to understand what underlying motives have driven me throughout my life and the fears that had kept me from truly connecting on the deepest of levels. I would also see that the woman with whom I shared my life for the previous 11 years had never and would never leave me. She had been holding my hand the whole way, and a spiritual connection like ours is eternal. I would find that the source of love itself was the only destination in my own search for meaning, and I would find a place of insight that can only be reached when we are free from our worldy attachments.
We see Shani as having lost her life, when in leaving this world she really gained eternity. Shani’s pain ended when mine began. She paid the ultimate karmic debt, putting a final end to the violent history that plagued her family for generations. And with her sacrifice, Shani fulfilled her end of our sacred contract. She gave all that she could and it was time for her to receive. Now, I have the obligation of repaying my debt by sharing the story of my personal path toward the common end that we will all share some day, and by helping others to find their own peace as we move along together; for it is in giving that we truly receive. And as I stand there, with tears inevitably streaming down my face, I will commit to fulfilling my end of this agreement in the best way that I can, not perfectly, not without fault, but as a human being who has realized that it is my purpose to simply give the love to others that has so freely been given to me.
I know there will be a lot of heavy hearts today. I am far from the only person affected by Shani’s death. Friends and family will remember where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. I’ve seen few people have more of an impact in death like Shani has. Anyone even remotely connected to her has been changed forever. I’ve seen spirituality deepened, values questioned and life purposes changed. I’ve seen people leave their careers to travel the world and spend time with loved ones. I’ve seen strained relationships heal and new connections form. There is no doubt that her death has reverberated throughout communities in ways that will affect generations to come.
And so on a day that was nothing but black just one year ago, I simply ask that you all take this anniversary to inject your own light into someone else’s life. Thank the person at the counter. Hold the door open for someone and smile. Hug your loved ones and make that phone call you’ve been meaning to make. Take the day to do the right thing.
I am.
Peace and love to all of you today.
Mike
========================================================================
Posted June 11, 2010 at 1:07 a.m.
Stuff
I was watching the Yankees game earlier this evening when my dad came into the living room and asked me to follow him downstairs. I walked into the garage to see about a dozen or so relatively large plastic bins spread out on the ground with the lids off and the contents inside exposed. The containers held all of the personal belongings Shani and I owned that I had either not given away, sold or don’t use on a daily basis right now. He asked me if I would please look around and decide what I wanted to do with everything so he could reorganize what I wished to keep and get rid of the rest.
I knew my folks were going to be doing this pretty soon; it needed to get done. And I’m more than grateful for the opportunity they’ve given me to take this time to get back on my feet and for their generosity in taking care of a number of things, like this, that would have been extremely difficult for me to do on my own. Even still, going through all of your personal belongings and keepsakes, and those of your deceased spouse, is not an easy undertaking, regardless of the circumstances or support surrounding the task at hand.
I started sifting through them one by one. In the containers were Shani’s baby pictures and all of the cards and gifts she received following Zeke’s birth. There were newspaper clippings of ribbon cutting ceremonies when she was Catoosa County Miss Chamber of Commerce as a teenager. I found family and prom pictures as well as photo albums chronicling our time together. She saved every card and letter I ever gave her.
The bins held cookbooks and loose articles with vegetarian recipes. There were blankets, clothes and dog toys, CD’s and cooking utensils. My mom sat in silence as we found gifts that she had given Shani just weeks before her death. We found baseball trophies, game balls and high school sports awards. There were Star Wars collectibles, yearbooks and board games. The list goes on and on and on.
As I went through them, I said, “Keep this, toss that. Burn this, hold on to that.” One by one, I determined what was to happen to every material thing that defined our personal and collective histories.
And then, at the very top of one of the bins, I found a yellow notepad. I picked it up and started reading the scribble that was obviously my handwriting. There were realtor’s names and numbers as well as leads for potential clients at the training facility I was running in Florida last summer. As I scrolled down through the scattered notes, I came upon a name at the very bottom of the page with two phone numbers underneath it. The name? Detective Trammer. This was the notepad that I was using the night I got the call telling me that Shani had been murdered. I was simply going about my day, doing my job and prepping for the move, and with one phone call my life changed forever, documented by a name and a couple of numbers quickly jotted down at the bottom of a yellow legal pad.
I stared at the page for a minute and placed the notepad back in the bin. I straightened up and took in the scene of everything laid out before me. I was looking at all of our personal belongings, keepsakes and symbols of our time together. And yet, after sorting through a lifetime of experiences, I found that the most defining moment of my life was recorded in a matter of a few seconds at the bottom of a single sheet of paper.
Today would have been Shani’s 42nd birthday. I can’t help but think what she would want me to do with all of this “stuff.” What would you do with it? What would you do if you were given the sole responsibility of caring for all of the possessions that someone compiled over the course of their life? We put so much emotional value in things; things we can’t take with us when we leave this world. Things. Stuff. Attachments. What do they mean? In the end, they mean nothing.
Shani gave me far more than pictures, cd’s and cooking utensils. In 10 years, we collected memories of amazing and somewhat unbelievable times together. We did and learned more during that period of our lives than most people will ever experience. I know I say this a lot, but those that really knew us are nodding their heads in agreement. In the end, the only things we leave behind that really matter are memories. How does what we do impact other peoples’ lives? Did I help or hurt someone today? Did my actions influence someone in a positive way? Was I a living example of how to navigate this time here on earth, or did my energy take from another’s experience?
What did I do today that others will remember?
In this emotional endeavor I came to the realization that deep down, none of these material possessions hold any real value to me anymore-at least not in comparison to the gifts I truly cherish, the memories I will carry with me in my heart and soul until the day that I die. Sure, I’ll hang on to pictures and certain items that hold sentimental value. I’ll see them and they’ll remind me of the good times we had together. But in truth, even if I had nothing to look at, nothing tangible to hold, I would still be content, because the memories and lessons we shared together carry a stronger connection to what was her sweet, life filled spirit, than any of the “stuff” that we acquired along the way.
========================================================================
