No Safe Distance

All Is Well

Gosh, I realize I left you all hanging with the announcement of Michael's death and nothing since.

First, you have to love a man who makes a Bishop listen to Om Nama Shivaya (that was the deal breaker for St. Mary's...big thanks to Father Smyth and the Notre Dame family for a truly lovely funeral service).

Second, despite all the warnings that my anticipatory grief wouldn't really save me from having to grieve all over again...well, I think we may have underestimated just how gifted my teacher was. Not that I don't miss him like the dickens and I've shed tears, no doubt, but wow. I'm only now BEGINNING to really appreciate the work that has been done the last several years. More on that in the future...interwoven with everything I do for the remainder of my time on the planet, I suspect.

But for now, I'm realizing that my material world has developed more than a few issues during my time of caregiving so I may not be here too much for the time being while I get my own foundation shored up at the house and what remains to be done with Dad's estate. Don't worry about me, just have to tend to business behind the scenes.

But first, a crucial matter. I'm off to the United Center to remind Detroit that they do, in fact, suck.

Once a hockey girl, always a hockey girl. Didn't come this far to get knocked off the puck now.

Back when I can be...

But You Don't Understand, Michael Schwass Was My Best Friend!

I know the web is being lit up like a Christmas tree as the news is spreading about the passing of Michael Schwass and so many in deep, deep grief are looking for anything to help make this profound loss easier to bear. Looking for news, photos, any piece of him that will help us all wake up and realize that this has all been some horrible mistake. For as vulnerable as we all knew he was, he ALWAYS beat the odds. It was all too easy for us to assume he always would.

I mean, look at him just weeks ago...

 How could someone with that glow be gone?

For the people in my life who knew Michael's significance to me, and who have been touched by him either directly or indirectly as a result, I can tell you that, yes, my eyes are pretty puffy but all that deep work we have been doing these past several years was not just cotton candy. So in between crying jags I'm deeply joyful for him. Just so proud. And grateful beyond words that he prepared me so well for this. He taught me what to do and I was so desperate in my anticipatory grief it was either sink or swim.

He taught me to swim.

Reading with the Rishi

Thought I'd resurface these old posts for you. What Michael taught me diligently over the last many years is serving me very, very well. My hope is that there may be some insights in these posts that will help those who suffer so greatly in his absence.

Michael just put up a post on meditation and I wanted to tag team with him on this because the reading he shares there is meaningful to me.

He read it to me last Friday while we were at the cemetary visiting his gravesite.

Boy, those two know how to have a good time...

Giggling at the Cemetery

"Who wants to fall in love with people who keep dying out from under you?"

Ram Dass was speaking. Michael hadn't cued the tape to any particular point. "Let's just see where he starts."  I stretched out on the stair beneath the statue of Mary overlooking Michael's gravesite and hit "Play".  Ram Dass was apparently not going to waste any time with us.

Laughing, Michael asked, "Do you want to back up to get more of an introduction?"

"Introductions are for sissies. Let it roll."

On Spirituality, Religion and Prayer

Thought I'd resurface these old posts for you. What Michael taught me diligently over the last many years is serving me very, very well. My hope is that there may be some insights in these posts that will help those who suffer in his absence.

Oh, that poor man. He's a quadriplegic AND a schizophrenic!

Michael is a prayerful man and lately has been noticing himself spontaneously mumbling The Prayer of St. Francis as he rolls down the streets of his town.   

Perhaps this would be a good time to talk about religion and how this former, we won't even call me "recovering", Catholic has learned to control the involuntary shudder that goes through her when she is exposed to anything "Christian" and how, on her better days, has even been finding her way back to prayer.

You Have to Admit, It's a Really Fun Cemetery

Thought I'd resurface these old posts for you. What Michael taught me diligently over the last many years is serving me very, very well. My hope is that there may be some insights in these posts that will help those who suffer so greatly in his absence.

The Day of the Dead, found Michael and I at the cemetery, visiting his mom, his own (future) gravesite and the statue of Mother Mary, who is honored over at his blog.

We started our visit by listening to a tape of Ram Dass talking about dying and his experiences in tending to those who were in this process. (I'll have to see if I can get the reference for you, it was really excellent.) He talked at length about how you have to be with this reality: When I'm with someone who is dying, maybe I'll say "How are you?" and they'll say, "Well, I'm dying," and then I say, "Well, I'm living. And here we are." And he went on to discuss paradox (the state of seemingly opposite conditions both being true) and how joy and suffering travel hand in hand all through the journey of our human lives. And how suffering is grace.

The Graveyard Shift

Goodness, did this trip, long ago, come to serve me well...

"Grab me some water, would ya? How are you doing?"

Michael and I had arrived at the graveyard and were moments from exiting his van to visit his chosen burial site. 

"How do you think I'm doing?" I asked, holding the water bottle to his lips. I find keeping my hands busy and his mouth occupied with food and drink is an excellent way for me to ease myself into challenging conversations. You have to learn things like this when simple questions like, "Can I ask you a question?" are met with a sincere "Can you handle the answer?" My lame attempts at avoidance don't fool Michael for a second, but the gestures give me comfort nonetheless, and he indulges my little game.

Helping me out, he took am extra long drink, never taking his eyes from me.

"I don't know. Tell me."

"Well, I don't know either."

He accepted that answer because it was true.

Des Plaines quadriplegic and former athlete dies - Triblocal - Voice of the town

Des Plaines quadriplegic and former athlete dies - Triblocal - Voice of the town.

Have You Ever Seen a More Joyful Face? Lift Michael Up in Love...

There is a lovely article in the Des Plaines Journal on Michael. I reprinted the final arrangement update here but do encourage you to go read the whole article at the Journal. I just can't stop looking at this picture. Have you ever seen a glow like that? That is what a saint ready to return home looks like. Right there. That is it.

Mike Schwass, a 51-year-old Des Plaines man and Notre Dame High School alum who inspired many by turning a tragic accident into a lifetime of teaching others how to overcome adversity, died of a heart related condition last Friday, Sept. 10.

Michael Schwass Suffers No Longer

And although his passing brings great sadness if you aren't doing just a little bit of a happy dance for the boy, you haven't been paying attention. He is free of his suffering. Just sit with that for a while.

He is free.

Godspeed, my love, you served us so, so well. No one could have had a better teacher or a more beloved friend.