Michael Andrew K.

Michael K., 22 May 15, '74 - July 2, '96 car accident

My Dearest Michael:

How can it be two years since you’ve been gone? I never thought I’d get through a day, a week, a month. How do I keep getting up and going through the days without you? You and your sister were my life, my breath. Even when we disagreed about something, it was wonderful being with you. I use to worry constantly about your health, about your safety. All that worrying didn’t save you. All my loving and caring wouldn’t keep you alive. At first, I felt I had let you down somehow. I thought if I’d done this or that I could have somehow prevented this terrible thing from happening. I was wrong!

Then, I worried whether God was taking good care of you. Did He know what made your happy? Was He making sure you weren’t lonely, or troubled by what happened? How silly I was – thinking I was the only one who knew what your needs were. But I’d been given these feelings and instincts and my protective nature by God Himself. He had to know how hard it was for me to stop worrying about you. And all the while I was struggling with how you were, He was not only taking care of you, He was also caring for me. That’s the only explanation for how I’ve managed to get to this point without you.

I spent so much of my time after you left reading everything I could get my hands on trying to comprehend what Heaven was like. I needed to see you there in my mind’s eye. I wanted so badly to find comfort in KNOWING WITHOUT A DOUBT that you were happy in your new home. It’s taken me this long (you know I’m pretty hard to convince sometimes) to understand the true meaning of faith. Oh, I gave it lip service in the past, but it took this total devastation and rebuilding of my life after losing you to come to the realization that we are all on this earth working to get to where you are. You just earned Heaven much sooner than I would have wanted. You shed the cocoon that confined you to the limitations and hardships of this earth and now fly as free and alive as a beautiful butterfly.

I know I will have moments of doubt, times when the "missing you" takes over and leaves me questioning again. It is at those times that memories of the wonderful 22 years we had together will have to sustain me. Just as I didn’t expect you to leave when you did, I don’t know when God will call me either. But when He does, I want Him to be proud of how I handled losing you. Not that this was a test … I don’t believe that any more. But maybe we get extra blessings for having "unconditional faith."

So keep smiling down on me, Mike. I know you do. It’s as if we have somehow traded places and you are now looking after me. And God knows … I need all the help I can get.

Missing you until we’re together again –

Love,
Mom (and Dad)
(Cheryl + Andy K.)

The Blessings of May

The month of May was always very special to me. It is the true beginning of spring, the month Mother’s Day falls in, but more importantly, the month God blessed me with Michael. Our daughter, Annette, was born seven years before her brother. I had a miscarriage, Steven, one year before I had Mike. So when he finally arrived, we were ALL so delighted. His sister would stand outside his crib and just stare at him. She had waited so long for a brother or sister.

I cherished every moment with my adorable son. I was able to stay home after Michael was born and didn’t return to work full time until he was in fourth grade. Being home with him was great. We went everywhere together. He was the best baby. As long as he had his thumb and his "blanky", he was happy. I was there for all the firsts – his first tooth, first step, first word, first day at school.

Planning each of my children’s birthday parties was always a treat. I would try to come up with a special theme each year – something that was in line with what was happening in their lives that particular year. For instance, when Michael got his first two wheeler, the cake and all the decorations had bicycles on them. When he turned 13 and got his dog, Chelsea, the cake had a Sheltie on it. When he got his driver’s license, we went with the car theme, and so on. His 21st birthday was the last big party we had for him. When Mike turned 22, we took him to dinner and promised him a trip to Chicago to visit the aquarium there. (Mike had a large tropical fish tank.) He died before we were able to give him his present.

On his first birthday after his death, we invited all the friends and relatives over who would normally come to his birthdays. I knew it would be especially difficult to get through, and I needed their support. We started out with a trip to the cemetery and had a balloon launch. Once again, it was a beautiful day. The balloons seemed to climb and climb up forever. I felt they were going straight up to where he was. I placed his picture in a prominent place at home with a big bouquet of fresh flowers and lit eternal light. I needed to do something that would give him an earthly presence.

This year feels quite different. I don’t feel the need or even the inclination to have everyone over. My grief has turned into something much more personal, just as my relation with Michael has. With the help of my faith, The Compassionate Friends, and wonderful family and friends, I have (at least most of the time) reached a place where I know he’s okay. I’m ever grateful to God for the time I had with Mike. As his mother and a Christian, I find comfort in believing he is with his older brother. They are exploring all of the beauty and glory of Heaven together. This is not to say I don’t miss him. I miss him terribly, constantly. And I will until I’m with him again. But for now, my new relationship with Michael is one I’m learning to live with.

May will remain as special to me as in previous year. The spring flowers will bring me joy. On Mother’s Day, I will have the love of my wonderful daughter, Annette, here on earth, and the love of my two beautiful sons in Heaven. That is not how I had ever wanted or expected it to be, but it’s how it has to be for now. With God at my side, and a heavy heart, I will continue to appreciate the blessings of May.

by Mom, Cheryl K. in memory of my son, Michael's 24th birthday.

Where is the baby I cuddled and sang to?
Where is the toddler I bounced on my lap?
Where is this child I just couldn’t get enough of,
who I missed when he just took a nap?

Where is the school boy I was so proud of?
The teen who tried everything and excelled at it all?
Where is the young man so determined and head strong?
Who grew up so handsome, so bright and so tall?

Where is the friend who I loved to spend time with
just talking, or laughing, or watching TV?
Where is this unique and wonderful creation?
Where in the heavens can my son be?

Is he happy and busy doing things he enjoys?
Are his days full of sunshine and love?
Does he play and explore like we do on this earth?
Can they play baseball and golf up above?

Does the Lord hold him close when he thinks of his mom?
Does he know how I miss him each day?
Can he see how I cry when the pain is too much?
How my arms ache to hold him again?

My faith tells me this - that he’s safe and at peace,
and he knows that he’ll see me again.
He’s waiting to show me the wonders he’s seen?
God, give me the strength until then!

Written by Cheryl K. in loving memory
of her son, Michael, on the first anniversary of his death.

As Christmas Approaches by (Mom) Cheryl K.

As Christmas approaches, I'm reminded of the past Christmases with Michael. He loved Christmas. He was very sentimental and loved tradition. Even as a teen when it wasn't 'cool', he still wanted to be a part of the traditions we all shared. Trimming the tree with Mike, our daughter Annette, and my husband was always wonderful. We would put 'wreath head' on the record player (that's what Mike called the Perry Como Christmas album because Perry's head appears in the middle of a Christmas wreath). We had to have a fire going with everyone in a 'good mood'. He would get very upset if his dad wasn't cooperating (typical of most men when it comes to decorating).

When the tree was all decorated, Mike would love to sit and stare at it. No matter what time of day it was, he would turn the lights on the tree. It gave him a lot of pleasure, perhaps because he wanted to hold on to that joy and excitement he felt as a child.

Now that he won't be with us this Christmas, people have said, 'Maybe you shouldn't bother decorating this year.' But I feel that if it meant so much to Mike, how could I not still do it, if he's looking down on us from heaven. I want it to be as he remembered and loved it. I don't feel Mike is missing out on anything this year. He's celebrating Our Lord's birthday with his heavenly Father. Could you imagine the choir they must have? And the joyous celebration with all the angels, children and loved ones? Our sadness is for us, because Mike's passing has left an enormous hole in our family and in our hearts.

Michael loved the traditional Christmas Eve with the entire family. He was always the first to ask, 'who's having Christmas this year?' My sister, who has been grieving losing Mike almost as much as my husband, daughter and I have, has assured me that he will not be forgotten in our Christmas festivities. We will take the time to remember Mike and to cherish the times we had together. We lost our dad on August 27th, so we've been through a lot this year. It will be important that we're together as in past years if only for the comfort we can bring each other. We also need things to, at least, seem normal for the other children in the family. We have two grandchildren, Alex 3, and Evan, 5 months. I want them to grow up loving the Christmas traditions as much as Mike did.

Buying a grave blanket for Mike was extremely difficult for me. As the salesgirl pulled it through the nursery, it was just too much like his casket. But it also reminded me of when he was younger, and I tucked him in at night. Mike hated to be cold. It was terribly cold when we took the blanket to the cemetery. I know Mike isn't there, but I did get satisfaction in placing the beautifully decorated blanket on his grave. We also bought him a cross made of pine bows with a red ribbon and pine cones on it. Mike's headstone won't be ready for Christmas, so I feel better having all these decorations there for him.

I miss him so much I can hardly stand it. It's been just over four months, and I can't imagine not having him with us any more. I get overwhelmed trying to accept the fact that he's gone. I don't know how to stop being his mom. I want him here so I can take care of him, fix his dinner, wash his clothes, hear about his day, tease him about finding a girlfriend. (He was 22 years old, but I never minded doing things for him. After all, I'm his mom.)

Maybe some day I can accept that he's gone and find a relationship with him where he is. But for now, ifs very difficult. We've received many signs from Mike, or perhaps from his angel, or from God Himself. So we know Mike is fine and that his spirit lives. We just have to find a way to let go of things as they were. I'm feeling very selfish ... I'd like those times back. But I find comfort in knowing he's okay.

Merry Christmas, Mike! Love, Mom.

(Michael was killed instantly in a car accident on his way to work just before 1:00 pm on July 2, 1996 when a woman driver turned in front of him. He had just been promoted to Store Manager at the Richmond Radio Shack 10 days before. We were very proud of his accomplishments and of him.)