Donna

  Donna and I traveled to Florida. My dad was in the hospital there. He was unconscious by the time we arrived. Things weren’t good. After a conference with his surgical team, and in line with my dad’s directive, the decision was made to remove life support. My family went back to my mom and dad’s home. Donna and I stayed at the hospital with my dad. We saw him out. I was crushed. Donna stayed close. She had lost her dad some years back and knew what I was going through. When I had pulled myself together enough to converse with her, Donna said, “It gets better. It takes a long time, but it gets better.” So I’m passing along this message from my partner of thirty years. It gets better.

  Donna had wonderful dreams. She would share them with me over morning coffee. This is one of my favorites. She walked into a mansion. Standing in the foyer, she didn’t see or hear anyone. She started walking into the adjoining rooms. In one room she saw a dog staring at a painting. As she walked over to the dog, it turned to her and said, “Why is that cowboy crying?” Donna explained that the cowboy was a caballero, and those weren’t tears. They were the silver buttons on his jacket.

There are two versions of this story. I'll post both here. Donna said she was told this story by a former elementary school classmate when they met years later. Donna and the classmate were walking home from school. They walked by a dog in a fenced yard. Donna turned to the classmate and said, "That dog thinks he's smarter than I am, but he's not."  Sue said she remembers the story as follows. Donna said 'I hate that dog.'  Chris said 'Why'?  Donna replied 'Because he thinks he's smarter than me.'

When Mrs. Michels was living alone at the family cabin in Michigamme, I asked Donna if it would be OK for Paul and myself to pay a visit to her mother..maybe there were some errands we could run for her.  Donna said her mom would probably enjoy some company. When we arrived at the camp, she had just finished her lunch. She had baked an eggplant and cheese and tomato casserole, just for an ordinary weekday lunch for herself. I was impressed. She mentioned that Donna and Mike had shown her some Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dance videos,  and said she had just watched a guy on TV, and was trying to remember his name. It seems she fascinated by his performance, his song and dance routines, and his costumes. I asked, 'Was he Black?' And she paused for just an instant, and said, 'Well, he USED to be.'    Yup.  Michael Jackson. -- Posted by Sue  

It was in the first year French class in High school, and the class was taking a written test. At  one point during the exam,   Donna STOOD UP, and peered over the shoulder of the student in front of her. She was obviously looking at the other's test paper.  Mr. Brown, the teacher, roared:  ' Donna Michels,  WHAT are you DOING?'   Donna said 'I just wanted to see what she wrote.'      This, to me, was so typical of Donna.  She wasn't attempting to cheat, she was just genuinely curious. -- Posted by Sue

We had an eightieth birthday party for Donna at our favorite pizza place. Toward the end of the dinner, small speeches were offered in celebration. Donna offered this gem; "Eighty years is a long time, but not long enough." "...wry sense of humor," for sure, Sue.

After two weeks in the hospital she was transferred to the ICU. I was by her side. We sat quietly. I offered small talk about my morning at home. She made brief replies, her breathing very labored. Then she listed to one side. She couldn’t talk. I took her hand and she squeezed and caressed mine. “Thank you for sharing your life with me.” She squeezed my hand. “Our years together were the best years of my life.” She squeezed my hand. “When I first saw you I thought, ‘She’s the one for me.’” She squeezed my hand. “I love you.” She squeezed my hand. And then the squeezing stopped.