A Death in the Family
Posted: Thu Jan 23, 2014 12:59 pm
My friends,
The love of my life, Michael Crawley (aka Felix Baron, also an author of erotica) died on December 22, 2013, in the heart of and at the height of the great ice storm that struck the Greater Toronto Area over the holiday season.
There's no bad time to listen to Leonard Cohen but during times of agony his voice is the one I need to fall into. Sometimes the pain has to be forced to the surface before it rips my guts to ugly ribbons. A good cry is absolutely necessary and who better to help me weep in helpless isolation and yet be comforted and connected to everyone? Oh Leonard, there is, there is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.
Here's Michael:
He was born April 4, 1937 in London, England, and died December 22, 2013. Michael served his country in Cyprus with the Royal Army Service Corp.
He moved to Canada in 1968. Michael was a writer, teacher and mentor to new authors. He is survived by his 4 children and his lover, Madeline Moore; he will be missed by many. In deference to Michael's fierce atheism, no funeral was held.
His exemplary clarity was with him to the end.
Michael's final words were, "I've had enough. I'm going now."
***
When we fell in love, he said, "Realistically, I can offer you 10 good years." We started living together in 2003. He was a man of his word, as those who knew him will attest.
He was my great oak tree, firmly rooted to the ground. I was the critter that hid in the many little places he kept just for me. Had I known I'd be sharing this image with the world, I'd have made it more original. But there it is, that's the way I saw him.
His death was not related to the ice storm. However, as I sat with his body for a few moments, the branches of a magnificent, ice laden tree at the main entrance of the hospital cracked and crashed to the sparkling crust that covered the earth.
You can't make this stuff up.
Like Leonard Cohen, Michael knew the simple answer to the question that seems to befuddle so many men: What do women want? Perhaps the answer isn't to their liking, so many choose not to hear it. But Leonard knows it and he's shared it with the world. Michael knew it, too: Women want to be adored.
Here is one of the poems Michael wrote for me.
I am the grey
That edges the black of your shadow
I am the heat in the rock
That warms your back when you take the sun.
I am the salt that makes your tears salty
I am the red that makes your blood red
I am the blue
That flickers in the fire you ignite
I am the deliciousness
In the chills that run up your spine.
Even if I weren't here anymore,
Even if I were gone
I would be the flecks of gold in your eyes,
Whenever they shone.
The pain will never leave me. I know that. I don't suppose I want it to. Time will smooth the edges so I can move forward. But there'll always be those days when I'll be, we'll all be, jabbed straight to the heart with a jagged pain. That's the price we pay for the luxury of love.
xoxo Mad
The love of my life, Michael Crawley (aka Felix Baron, also an author of erotica) died on December 22, 2013, in the heart of and at the height of the great ice storm that struck the Greater Toronto Area over the holiday season.
There's no bad time to listen to Leonard Cohen but during times of agony his voice is the one I need to fall into. Sometimes the pain has to be forced to the surface before it rips my guts to ugly ribbons. A good cry is absolutely necessary and who better to help me weep in helpless isolation and yet be comforted and connected to everyone? Oh Leonard, there is, there is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.
Here's Michael:
He was born April 4, 1937 in London, England, and died December 22, 2013. Michael served his country in Cyprus with the Royal Army Service Corp.
He moved to Canada in 1968. Michael was a writer, teacher and mentor to new authors. He is survived by his 4 children and his lover, Madeline Moore; he will be missed by many. In deference to Michael's fierce atheism, no funeral was held.
His exemplary clarity was with him to the end.
Michael's final words were, "I've had enough. I'm going now."
***
When we fell in love, he said, "Realistically, I can offer you 10 good years." We started living together in 2003. He was a man of his word, as those who knew him will attest.
He was my great oak tree, firmly rooted to the ground. I was the critter that hid in the many little places he kept just for me. Had I known I'd be sharing this image with the world, I'd have made it more original. But there it is, that's the way I saw him.
His death was not related to the ice storm. However, as I sat with his body for a few moments, the branches of a magnificent, ice laden tree at the main entrance of the hospital cracked and crashed to the sparkling crust that covered the earth.
You can't make this stuff up.
Like Leonard Cohen, Michael knew the simple answer to the question that seems to befuddle so many men: What do women want? Perhaps the answer isn't to their liking, so many choose not to hear it. But Leonard knows it and he's shared it with the world. Michael knew it, too: Women want to be adored.
Here is one of the poems Michael wrote for me.
I am the grey
That edges the black of your shadow
I am the heat in the rock
That warms your back when you take the sun.
I am the salt that makes your tears salty
I am the red that makes your blood red
I am the blue
That flickers in the fire you ignite
I am the deliciousness
In the chills that run up your spine.
Even if I weren't here anymore,
Even if I were gone
I would be the flecks of gold in your eyes,
Whenever they shone.
The pain will never leave me. I know that. I don't suppose I want it to. Time will smooth the edges so I can move forward. But there'll always be those days when I'll be, we'll all be, jabbed straight to the heart with a jagged pain. That's the price we pay for the luxury of love.
xoxo Mad