There are legitimate problems with funeral processions

Until about 5 minutes ago, I didn’t have a problem with funeral processions.  Actually, to be more accurate, I didn’t have a problem with people engaging in them, but I didn’t like the fact that other people who are not interrupting the actual procession, should be required to stop and “honor” the dead. As I wrote on a friends’ Facebook wall (in an insanely long comment that just kinda poured out all stream of consciousness like):

Continue reading “There are legitimate problems with funeral processions”

There are legitimate problems with funeral processions

I miss you Micah




I’d forgotten how much I enjoy this song by The Script.

Trigger Warning: Death or a loved one
Emotional TL; DR (Too Long; Don’t Read-if you don’t like reading long comments)

Speaking of music from The Script, “If you ever come back” is one of my favorite songs. Unfortunately it’s also a song that hits me in the gut. I don’t relate to the song as it is likely intended (its a song about missing your partner, longing for them back in your life, and having a glimmer of hope that while they’re gone at the moment, they’ll come back). For me, this was a song that I listened to a lot after Micah passed away and part of the chorus resonates with me:




If you’re standing with your suitcase

But you can’t step on the train
Everything’s the way that you left it
I still haven’t slept yet

And if you’re covering your face now
But you just can’t hide the pain
Still setting two plates on the counter but eating without you

If the truth is you’re a liar
Then just say that you’re okay
I’m sleeping on your side of the bed
Goin’ out of my head now

And if you’re out there trying to move on
But something pulls you back again
I’m sitting here trying to persuade you like you’re in the same room

And I wish you could give me the cold shoulder
And I wish you could still give me a hard time
And I wish I could still wish it was over
But even if wishing is a waste of time
Even if I never cross your mind

I’ll leave the door on the latch
If you ever come back, if you ever come back
There’ll be a light in the hall and the key under the mat
If you ever come back
(bolding mine)
Those lines really tear me apart. I’m crying as I type this. Micah and I were never in a relationship (we very briefly experimented and I realized I didn’t care for him in that way), but in everything else, he was what I would call a soul mate (if I were religious and/or spiritual). We were both atheists and we shared many of the same tastes in music. We both liked movies. In fact he was a manager at one of the local movie theaters. I remember that we first met at one of the gay bars here in town. It was October 2007. I remember the month in part because Steve Niles’ movie ’30 Days of Night’ came out around the time we met. We bonded quickly over comic books. I remember we sat outside the bar for a while (hour or two I think) discussing comic books. He invited me to see the aforementioned horror movie for free (perk of being a manager) which I did and I quite enjoyed it. From then on, we were nearly inseparable. People saw us at the bar together so much they just assumed we were a couple (which got on our nerves for a while, bc people assumed they knew what type of relationship we had). We got so close that we’d finish each others’ sentences from time to time. We’d routinely think of the same things and tell one another to “get outta my head”.


In the beginning of our friendship, Micah was debating leaving Pensacola because he didn’t like living here. He had recently been discharged from the military and didn’t know what to do with his life. Shortly after we met, he changed his mind. He had a crush on me which was probably made more intense by our crazy chemistry. He also had some issues from the military that really disturbed him. He never elaborated on what they were and I never pressed. I figured that if he wanted to discuss them, he would. He drank. A lot. When he would get drunk, he’d often hit on me. It culminated one night when I took him home and he hit on me again, after puking at the bar from getting so drunk. I didn’t want to leave him alone, so I called a close friend of ours-a police officer (M). She stayed with him to ensure he got inside safe and didn’t try driving.


The next day I told him that I like him and care about him, but I didn’t want to date him. Moreover, I said that I want to keep partying with him, but I don’t want to feel like I’m responsible for him every time we go out (that’s how much he drank). I told him that if we were going to keep clubbing together that I didn’t want to deal with him being sloppy drunk. I couldn’t stop him from drinking, but I told him I would stop going out with him. He cut back a little bit on drinking, but the real impetus to stop was a car accident he got into two days after Xmas 07. He totaled his car (somehow he walked away from the accident completely fine–thankfully).


He stopped drinking for a long time. He also started trying to eat healthier. I think he weighed 240 lbs when we first met and he expressed a desire to lose weight and become a little more physically fit. I was working out pretty heavily at the time and he started coming to the gym with me. In about 6 months, he went from 240 to 180, which made him happier.


During this time, he often told me I could come up to the theater and see any movie I wanted any time. It took some time before I took him up on the offer. I felt like I’d be taking advantage of him, and free movies was not the reason I was his friend. We wound up establishing a fun Tuesday night routine called Supper Club. We invited a few friends to a restaurant on a Tuesday evening for a social gathering. At the end of the meal, someone would pick the restaurant for the next week, and we’d meet up there. Each week, someone new would pick the next weeks’ restaurant. This continued for months, with varying numbers of people. The first group was 6 or 7 of us. We got up to 16 one time. It was so much fun. Many times we’d go to the bar after dinner to play Tuesday night bingo, and follow that up with screening movies at his theater before they were released to the public. It was so awesome seeing movies in relative privacy. At most we’d have 15 people in the theater. Micah would have his employees save popcorn for us in a big trash bag, so we’d have something to much on.


Since we were close friends, and he was without a car, I wound up taking him to work or home frequently. He began staying the night at my house bc it was more convenient than driving halfway across town so often. A month or so after the accident, I started letting him borrow my car when I was at work. I’d often work 12 hour days at the bar, so obviously I wasn’t using the car during that time. I made him promise me not to drink if he was going to drive my car, which he agreed to. When he got done with work, he’d often come to the bar and hang out and wait for me to get off. He did that so frequently that the barstaff and many of the regulars got to know him (we had to deal with the whole “are you two together” all over again).


In time I offered to let him move in with me and my other roomie (whom I checked with first to get the ok from), so that’s what he did. That made transportation easier. He and I started taking trips out of town to Dallas, Atlanta, or New Orleans. We even traveled to Orlando where my parents live several times. During this time, my sister was living in South Korea and she was over there for years. Micah bought her car from my parents (it was really theirs, not hers). My parents liked him quite a bit. When my sister came back to the states briefly, I remember going out drinking with she and Micah in Jacksonville, FL. It’s still surreal to go to bars with my sister. She’s 8 years younger than I am (she turns 30 this August come to think of it).


Unfortunately, Micah died of a drug related heart attack on January 7, 2010. I came home from work and discovered his body (had to crawl through the window bc his door was locked-an apparent habit from the military). I’ve never experienced loss of that caliber before. That was the most painful experience of my life. Grabbing his leg and feeling the stiffness was…there are no words. For months after, I would feel like I could feel his presence still in the house. I think that’s similar to ghost limbs. When I would listen to the above song by The Script those bolded lyrics really hit me, bc the sensation I kept having made it seem like he was still alive, but just not home. The idea of leaving the light on, and leaving the door on the latch resonated with me bc I really wanted him to come home.


Micah was one of the most thoughtful people I knew. He bought a concert ticket for a coworker out of the blue and worked for the guy one Friday night–just because. When he borrowed my car, he’d often text me to see if I needed anything while he was out getting groceries. Our other roomie, E, has long had financial problems, and Micah-without ever being asked, would cover bills for him. He wouldn’t ask for anything or even request a thank you. He would help care for my cats and the dogs without being asked too.

Another song that really, really gets me is How to save a life by The Fray.

Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

The night before Micah died, we resolved an argument that had kept us pretty much ignoring each other out of frustration for a few weeks. We talked it out and forgave each other. Even so, there’s this part of me that wishes I would have stayed up all night with him, bc maybe then he’d have survived. From checking his laptop after he passed away, I saw that he was still active around 7 am on Thursday, January 7, 2010. He passed away sometime after that. I don’t know how long rigor mortis takes to settle in, but when I got home and found him it was around 11:30 pm that night. I don’t blame myself for his death, but I wish I’d have stayed up with him. Maybe then my best friend would still be alive.

Sorry for the Teal Deer ya’ll. It’s been a while since I thought this much about him, and part of me feels bad for that. Like, he was the best friend I ever had, and I don’t think about him that much. I know that’s not rational, but fuck. By FSM, I miss the living fuck out my lil buddy.

Continue reading “I miss you Micah”

I miss you Micah