"Fall In"
We celebrated an incredible soul early last month. I apologize for not writing right after or even on the month anniversary of his passing. But to be transparent, I wasn't ready to write this yet. But I believe now, I'm steady enough to write about my gratitude for each of you. Sincerely, we are blown away by the love and support that has surrounded my family, and especially Micah.
About 150 of you came from across the country to pay your respects, share your personal connections with him, and extend your condolences. What we experienced was nothing short of inspiring. We were overwhelmed, in the best possible way. Thank you to those of you who stood up and shared your moments with Micah at his Celebration of Life. Each story helped everyone there understand even more clearly just how amazing he was and how soft and squishy his heart truly was.
That was the phrase I kept hearing over and over again: he had the best heart.
And it’s true. He always did. Paired with an endlessly witty, intelligent mind, those two things never wavered, not once, even right up until the end.
It meant so much to share a meal together (his favorite, of course, from Fav’s Italian Eatery), to play his music, and to show off his instruments. I loved hearing the stories and seeing how deeply he impacted people, sometimes without even realizing it. Thank you for giving me the space to grieve, be vulnerable, accept help, and freeing me up to smile through my tears. Thank you for simply showing up.
A special thank you to Ms. Boone and Manatee High School for allowing us to use our alma mater as the perfect place to celebrate him. Less than four months ago, we were in that same cafeteria prepping to play together for the annual MHS alumni marching band event. Micah was there then, and he was there with us again at his Celebration of Life.
Thank you, Jacob and Jason, for putting together the alumni drumline. Wow. That was truly special; a core memory that will live on in many hearts for a long time. You may have noticed the single drum front and center: the ghost drum, Micah’s drum. He was always an incredibly talented drummer (as you heard from Mr. Miller and Mike), and that was no different back in high school. He was, at times, a hard leader to follow. From the stories I’ve heard: “Run it again,” “What the f was that?" all familiar refrains. But what I heard just as consistently was his unwavering loyalty. Not just to drumming, but to his drumline, his people, and their hearts.
Everyone on that line, and even those who couldn’t be there, was impacted by Micah in one way or another. They all have their stories. He loved drumline so much that he and Jason were working on a passion project centered around it. I loved the idea and the story they were building. Hey Boone… can you finish that so we can all enjoy it? 😉
The cadences were such a special treat. Micah was absolutely drumming along and probably would’ve said, “Eh… let’s run that again,” followed by an awkward laugh. We just couldn’t hear or see him fully.
Thank you to the many people who jumped in wherever help was needed, there are too many to name. Thank you for hearing my ideas and our vision for his celebration and running with it. You lifted a huge weight. Truly. And thank you to those who said, “Anything you need at all, let me know,” and then actually acted on it when I called. In this day and age, those words are often empty. Yours weren’t. You showed up. That made my heart smile.
Thank you, B, for your unending support and gentle spirit. You’ve let me just be, in whatever state of mind I need to be in, and you’re still there with me. You know how much that matters to my heart and soul.
To those who traveled from so far away...wow. How cool it was to finally meet some of you who knew Micah? And to see some again after so many years was a heartwarming experience. I know you held a special place in his heart. And he certainly held a special place in all of ours. There’s no doubt about that.
I believe he felt honored. Remembered. Loved. He was probably a little miffed that he didn't get to be there in person to laugh with us and pass out hugs all around. I like to imagine him in Heaven sitting on a bench with Mimi, Shirley, Tim, Robin Williams, and so many others, enjoying watching his Celebration of Life while eating the most perfect BBQ, sipping on a Stella, and letting out that loud cackle from time to time.
I feel him all the time. Some days, I think he’s torturing me a little. I completely broke down in Publix the other day after hearing Where the Streets Have No Name. It wasn’t the song itself — it was the memory attached to it. Micah and Andy took me to see U2 in concert in Boston as a graduation gift. A trip for the record books. All of those memories came flooding back at once. Sorry, Publix employees. I’m fine. I just miss my brother.
A question I’m working through personally is this: Is grieving supposed to be quiet? I don’t know yet. I’ll need several more therapy sessions to sort that one out. Sometimes the grief is overwhelming. I can’t find my breath. To lose someone as special as Micah, there really are no words for the despair I feel at times. And yet, sometimes the grief is subtle — almost lighthearted. I find myself smiling while crying, remembering little things about him. The way he’d walk into my house, hug everyone, give an awkward laugh, and immediately follow it with a witty remark or movie quote. Or the time he got bonked in the head by a rogue acorn at the park, forever coining the phrase “the crack heard ’round the world.”
Something I didn’t share that day at the Celebration is that Micah was one of the very few people in my life who could put me in stitches almost instantly. I miss his laugh. I miss laughing that hard; the kind of belly laugh that comes with real tears. I know he loved making me laugh. He loved making all of us laugh.
But sincerely, my heart, our hearts overflow with gratitude. Thank you for loving Micah. Thank you for remembering him. Thank you for standing with us, and with him, in every way you did.
Hannah McLane
