Memento mori. Memento vivere.
Remember you must die. Remember to live.
So, to state the obvious, it has been quite a while since my last post. Why? Well, a lot of reasons but I bet those will be the topic of another post another day when I have processed all that I need to.
What drew me back to this blog tonight is this: a friend of mine passed away and I am sad. It has felt like I am in some kind of emotional holding pattern, unable to move forward I just keep circling back again and again to see what it is that is hidden in plain sight, shrouded in a perception filter. So after days and days of trying to understand what is going on inside myself I figured, hey--when all else fails, write. 'Cause sometimes I don't really know what it is that I am thinking or feeling till I type it out.
For days I read others' tributes to Micah's life and I felt paralyzed, unsure what was happening. Such light and strength and joy just gone? Just like that, gone? No, that made no sense, so my overly analytical mind kept kicking it back for reanalysis. Something did not add up. How was it that others could accept this?
Why does it feel like giving up to accept this? Accepting that he is really gone tinges my soul with the same sense of failure that I get from a DNF. Why is that?
I read all of these tributes and eulogies and I am touched and moved to tears by each one because they all ring true, so terribly True.
And still, I am unable to say anything. I can't seem to organize my thoughts on this at all. I have so much and yet nothing to say.
And then one day, today, I realize that the world and reality have shifted and all of a sudden I can accept it and I go from reticent to ramblesome in no time flat.
Micah was a really great guy. He was very down-to-earth and friendly and genuine. He had his flaws but every flaw was tempered with a heaping helping of humility. I was not super close to Micah and we hadn't talked in a while but I considered him a friend and I am deeply saddened that he's gone. The most painful aspect of this situation to me is this--Micah's girlfriend, Maria, is a very dear friend of mine and the loss of Micah is a crushing devastation to her. I met Maria through Micah--it was he who suggested that I friend her on Facebook. I think his words were something along the lines of "You need to meet Maria. You two remind me of each other. She's a happy person...just...well, get to know her and you'll see what I mean." Well, I did and he was right.
So when I talked to some people and arranged for Micah to make a trip out here to Austin to do his "speaking horse" thing in November of '09 I asked Maria if she would come too. And to my great delight, she did. Maria and I just clicked--kindred spirits, you know. I would love to go on and on about how awesome Maria is but if you know her then you already know how inadequate words would be in describing her and if you don't know her then no words could ever properly convey the full depth and breadth of her beautiful soul.
In the past year or so most of my communication with Micah was through Maria. Maria telling me "Micah sends his love to you and the family." Or me asking Maria to tell Micah that we were thinking about him and praying for him--that sort of thing.
I met Micah on Facebook before I ever even heard of Born to Run. I had posted a running question on a friend's wall and after a few comments Micah joined in on the conversation. I asked my friend who he was and she said that he was a nice guy, she had met him at a few races out in Colorado and he seemed to know his stuff. Talk about understatement. Reading "the book" was a trippy experience since I had met Micah and had several conversations with him via Facebook about running before I even heard that there was a book about him. The whole mystique of the elusive Caballo Blanco portrayed in the book (when I finally did get around to reading it) was lost on me--I kept thinking "Really? This is the same guy who I've been talking to about whether or not it's crazy to run with nothing on my feet but duct tape and who didn't balk when I said that my duct tape was purple and therefore magical--the same guy who dubbed me 'La Violeta'?"
So here's what is going on inside my heart--I am really, really sad that Micah is gone--he was a great guy and he was such an encouragement to me at many times. His utter lack of elitism had a way of making me (a decidedly non-competitive runner) feel valued and well, as if it was okay to be slow and just run for the fun of it. And that is just the selfish side of it--he was so much more to so many more! He was a very open-hearted guy with an uncanny ability to truly accept people where they were. Not to mention how he started a quest, a movement to champion the cause of the Raramuri. Micah True was and is a Good man. Take a minute and let the gravity of that sink in.
But this mourning for Micah is eclipsed by the sadness in my heart for Maria who is suffering a very deep and unique loss. I want to do something to help her. I wish I could take the pain away but I can't. Maria is in my thoughts and prayers all day.
So that's where I am. I am sad --so very sad, that Micah is gone. But I am thankful beyond reckoning that he lived, that he truly lived and that I got to know him even for a while. And I am sad for his beloved Mariposa.
So what does this lead me to? To this: Micah, I will do all I can to hold on to all that you taught me. I will treasure memories and stories of you and aim to be as open-hearted as you. I think that accepting that you're gone feels like giving up is because if I do not hold on to what you taught me, to the truth you lived-- that every person has the power to make this world a better place, well, then it is like giving up, it is like a DNF because I won't have done my part in carrying the torch and running the race of life with fervent joy and fiery compassion the way you so perfectly and effortlessly demonstrated.
Maria, I love you and I vow to cover you in prayer as you walk through this valley of morning and grief.
Take courage, Dear Heart, for you know better than most that True love never dies.
Micah, Maria and me -- Austin, 2009 |