Monday, June 10, 2013

A One Year Anniversary

"Every man is more than just himself; he also represents the unique, the very special and always significant and remarkable point at which the world's phenomena intersect, only once in this way, and never again." (Herman Hesse)

I often dwell upon thoughts of how we are all connected - how we can touch someone else's life, perhaps even make a difference and maybe not ever know that we have. And, conversely, how someone else can affect our lives and never know it. Today marks the one year anniversary of the death of such a person.

Ken, Lojo and Michael - Gallowglass 

I can't say I really knew Michael. I only knew who he was because of my daughter. She talked about this amazing trio of performers at the Minnesota Renaissance Festival and how she wanted me to see them. So in the early 90's I went to my first renfest with Kari and saw the Gallowglass group she had such a crush on. I had to admit, I did like their music. Each time we went to the Minnesota Renaissance Festival and every time they played, we were there - a couple of groupies. Eventually the trio went their separate ways.

Ken, Michael and John
This picture was taken about five years ago - the last time I went to the festival and the last time I saw Michael. By then Kari and Ken had been together several years. They were back in Minnesota for a visit and I met up with them there. Ken had his bodran with him and sat in with Michael and John.

When Kari told me Michael had started a blog (The Unintentional Expert) about his journey with bladder cancer I started following it. But a little over a year ago, I had to stop reading. I could see where his life was going and I just didn't have the courage to follow it any longer. I cried when he died.

And I've cried several times since. His blog is still up and occasionally his brother or his mother post something on it. It is when his Mom posts that I cry - as I did again today when I read her poem

Every time I read one of her posts I want to reach out to her - to let her know I feel her pain, her loss. Maybe it is because I almost lost one of my sons. (Which I wrote about here.) Perhaps it is because I feel connected to her in that way.
Her community of supporters, those who knew and loved her son, doesn't need to include me, but I still hope I get to meet her one day.

(Pictures property of my son-in-law, Ken Larson.)

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