Do You Remember?

Today would have been mine and Shani’s 9th wedding anniversary, and I will be spending it in the same city we spent our first, New York. I’ll be attending the Yankees game tonight with Sara, my great friend and roommate from my time in Florida last fall and the one who coached me through my first anniversary without Shani last year. She’s the perfect company for me today.

Since this is my second anniversary without Shani, I thought I’d share the story of last September 21st, the first without her in my physical presence, although I think it’s obvious that her spirit was right there with me.

This will be my last post for the next week or so while I’m in New York. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to share when I get back, but for now I’m just going to soak up the energy. Hope you enjoy the story.

Mike

Apathy

I’ve been angry, apathetic and raw. I’ve got a chip on my shoulder the size of Texas, and the best I can give anyone involves little more than a shrug of my shoulders and a look of, “Well, what do you expect?” People see what I write, see me looking and acting differently I guess, and say, “You seem to be doing so much better.” What else are they supposed to say, right? If you call getting more comfortable in dealing with nightmares and putting a good face out there getting better, then yeah, I am. People see Facebook stuff and think they know you or know exactly where you are. There’s a reason it’s called “Face”book and not “Soul”book. This is no linear growth process, and right now, I am in a funk to end all funks. People read a post that’s positive and go, “Must be doing great today!” I struggle every day to try and stay positive. And sometimes that vibe I am putting out there is nothing more than an effort to fake it until I make it. I’m just trying not to do something that will lead to a deeper and darker hole.

The Dream

My feet are tucked under my body in a crouched position, the pads of which lightly touch the bottom surface of the pool, easily supporting the weight of the two buoyant bodies floating above. Her smooth legs wrap around my hips, she sits gently on my thighs. The defined arms of this well-kept and mature woman squeeze my neck, her chin firmly resting on my shoulder and mine on hers, just above the water line, a combination of sweat and water only adding to the sensation from the skin of our cheeks pressed firmly together. My arms wrap completely around her back, the string from her bikini top beneath my left hand, the thumb and forefinger of my right hand rubbing the base of her head and top of her neck as if to pull any possible remaining tension from her mind. We hold each other and float aimlessly through the shallow end of the pool, completely unaffected by any outside energy other than the blistering sun beaming through a cloudless blue summer Atlanta sky. The energy created in the convergence of souls resonates love earned through time, through experience.

A Picture

I finally started studying for my personal training certification last night. With all of the traveling I’ve been doing, I just haven’t had the motivation to dive in. At the same time, I’m no newbie to this stuff, but I’ve finally made the commitment to knock this thing out. For the first time in 10 years, I am getting back to what drew me to the fitness industry in the first place, the desire to help others. By establishing myself as a trainer again, I am also mobile. Should I decide to relocate, no matter where I go, I can take my business with me. With that, I really can do whatever I choose to do.

As I was discussing a friend’s training program with him this afternoon, I was regurgitating all of the information I absorbed last night and began to feel that spark resurface, that passion I have for helping others experience the feeling of what it is to be healthy and strong, confident and motivated.

Godzilla

I’m currently in Chicago for the weekend, and I’m staying with my cousin, David, his wife, Sarah, and their son 17-month-old son, Tyler, at their home in Aurora, which is about 45 minutes from downtown. It was almost a year ago to the week that I was here on my first trip outside of Atlanta after Shani’s death. I stayed with them for a few days, doing everything I could to just get away and possibly enjoy myself, attempting to escape the horror movie that my life had become only 2 months before. While here, it just so happened that the New York Yankees were in town, so David and I drove into the city to catch one of the four games that weekend.

Shani's Little Girl

I’ve spent the past 24 hours preparing for a trip to Texas. I had originally planned on making a full West Coast jaunt until a couple of things at home caused me to stop and revise the schedule a bit. It does seem, however, that the opportunity to get out of here for 10 days or so is presenting itself. I’m going out to Austin to spend some time with Adam, who was mine and Shani’s roommate in our first apartment together in Chattanooga back in 1999-2000. I haven’t seen him in years, but we’ve really reconnected since Shani’s death. I tell him practically every time we speak that I’ll never forget Valentine’s Day in 2000 when he rode with me to get mine and Shani’s first dog, a black Shar-Pei named Bizkit. This dog was so ridiculously adorable that she didn’t look real. We actually nicknamed her “Gund” because of her resemblance to an actual stuffed toy. She was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

Celebrate & Grieve

I went to Atlanta this weekend. Originally, I was supposed to go down Saturday night for a party for a friend of mine. Staci and her new husband were celebrating their recent marriage. After having a private ceremony a few months ago, they were just now having a get-together for their close friends.

I was concerned about being alone in a social environment, so I e-mailed her earlier in the week to tell her that I just wasn’t ready. She said she understood but still wanted to meet to have lunch if possible. Considering how busy the day was going to be for her, I was thrilled that she would take the time to come see me. It had been three years since I last saw her. Staci lost her best friend to murder 12 years ago and said she really wanted to be there for me. She thought she could help.

What Is Happy?

About 10 days ago, a former colleague of mine suggested I check out a blog written by a young woman in New York City. Tre Miller-Rodriguez unexpectedly lost her husband last year and is writing a book about her experience. I was obviously intrigued by the subject matter, so I checked it out right away and was immediately drawn in by it.

Tre is an excellent writer with a unique, engaging style, and her story has resonated with me on many levels and in a way that I suspect could only happen with someone who has lost their spouse suddenly or tragically. I have not met any people in their thirties who are in a situation like ours, so to connect with someone like Tre, who is sharing her story with the world, has been wonderful. She and I have communicated back and forth via email, and I am blessed to have found her.

The Veggie Burger

My posts have been fairly heavy thus far, so to send you off into the weekend, I have decided to share a short, yet humorous anecdote, with you, just to lighten the mood for a moment. For those of you who know my disdain for the lack of culture in most of the South, you should appreciate this funny, little story. Enjoy!


In January of 2004, Shani and I moved from New York City to return to Chattanooga to attend to some family business. We stayed there until August, which is when we finally returned to Atlanta for good.

One night, while we were out, I decided to pull through the drive-thru of a local fast food restaurant in one of the outlying towns near Chattanooga. I was in the mood for a grilled chicken sandwich. Shani had taken up a vegetarian lifestyle at that point, although she would still eat chicken from time to time if nothing else was available. As we pulled up to order, this is the conversation that took place...

Who Am I?

Shani and I became an item when I was 25-years-old. How I pulled that off at that point in my life is still beyond me. In looking back, it’s easy to see how little I now resemble who I was back then. Of course, my growth has skyrocketed in the last year because of what I’ve had to deal with. Even before Shani’s death though, neither of us were anything like who we were 10 years before.

When we met in late 1998, I owned and operated a small personal training business in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and I’ll never forget the day Shani walked into the gym. Smitten doesn’t even come close to describing my interest in her. At the time, I had completely sworn off dating in order to focus on my business. Well, that was…until Shani walked through the door.

The Purpose

Two weeks ago today, I endured the one-year anniversary of the murder of my wife, Shani. She was my best friend and lover, and not a second of any day passes where my thoughts aren’t with her. I miss her today as much as I did a year ago, and I cherish every moment I spent with her, knowing full-well that the ten years we had together, eight of which we spent in marriage, were precious, yet fleeting.

At 6:49 p.m. on June 2, 2009, I received the phone call that would forever alter the course of my life. I will never forget Detective Trammer’s words. They reverberate somewhere deep in my soul still today.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “She’s dead.”

Nothing can prepare you to hear such a thing. No amount of experience. No amount of faith or trust. Not even God. Nothing.

One minute I was happily married to my soul mate. The next, she was gone. In that moment, I was stripped of all that mattered to me in life...