A Visitation

Little sweetheart, we were invited of late to contribute a track and some words to a really wonderful program in Italy - Silent Radio. Its host, Tiberio Faedi, has become a dear friend and advocate of ours - he interviewed me a year or two ago and has devoted a couple of full two hour editions of his show to our most recent albums, In The Hours Left Until Dawn and Memories of the Sky. 

Anyway, the show takes a hiatus from early August until early in the fall and he invites guests as part of each season's finale. We were on with a track from Memories of the Sky, "Hold My Soul", and I said a few words of introduction, largely about you, of course, at the top. Later, a listener in Mexico City wrote to me to say this:

"Ciao Michael, I don’t want to sound weird, but I just wanted to tell you that while you were remembering Summer on silent radio, a hummingbird flew into my office. And the amazing thing is that here in Mexico City it’s the rainy season, so you usually don’t see them at all until September. I find it amazing. Sending hugs, and thank you for your music"

You are my miracle girl, little sweetheart, and always will be. 

Angel Hours

And just as I typed that last post, I look at my phone and it's 4:44 - the repeating of numbers that signifies one's guardian angel. You really do always find me, don't you, my little sweetheart?

Directions

Running errands today, little sweetheart, I had been to the post office and had to duck into the housewares store just up the block. The sidewalk there on W52nd Street is a bit narrow with all the delivery bicycles and store displays. 

 

An older couple were walking very slowly in front of me, she leading and he behind her looking at his phone. “I’m trying to find it, sweetheart”, he said. Sweetheart. That is, of course, how I addressed you (and still do!) and no one else ever. 

 

I ducked into the store, got my stuff and when I came out they were at the corner looking up at the vacant building where my dry cleaners used to be. 

 

The address is still printed on the awning and she read it aloud. “782”. I stopped and told them that the numbers go up as you walk north. I asked what address they were looking for. 

 

She said “764”. I said, pointing, “okay, so you guys want to go south. Next block, this side of the street”. She thanked me and started walking but her husband stood there and shook my hand looking at me intently. “You’re a good guy!” he said. 

 

I laughed and said, “Likewise! You guys have fun!” 

 

Sometimes when something random like that happens and I can help someone, I really feel like you are with me. I know you are. And you were today.

With all my love forever.

 

Bad Dreams Considered

All dreams of you are good, in a way, little sweetheart, even the more difficult ones, because they signal your presence. Some are truly transcendent - you and I are together and all is well - others more disquieting. 

What I remember upon waking this morning was simply speaking of you, telling someone that your loss was more than I could bear and that I would never recover. While that is certainly true, in way I also welcome the all-too-familiar feeling of grief because it actually brings your spirit near. It tells me that you are hovering to remind me, refocus me, get me back on track. 

I'll take all of it, my little sweetheart, even the painful parts, knowing that you come with them. As long as you draw near, there's always comfort in that. 

With all my love forever.

I Hear You Call to Me

A starling high above the fray, 

Perched atop the highest light post, 

A sentinel, he sings so brightly I scan the horizon looking everywhere until I find him. 

His message, at last, is heard. 

One only needs to pause, give over, heed his very real and truthful call. 

Thank god, I do. 

Thank god for you because I know it is you who had sent him. 

Blue Supermoon

Everyone’s talking about a lunar event that's happening tonight, little sweetheart. It’s the Blue Supermoon, the biggest and brightest moon of the year. 

We can’t go on the roof here, anymore, little sweetheart but I’m going to try and walk up into the park where there’s less artificial light and see if I can watch the moonrise tonight. 

It always, needless to say, makes me think of you and this song of ours about that very phenomenon - the perigee-syzygy. 

With all my love… 

 

A Cardinal Sighting!

I had my first long walk since I got back today, little sweetheart. I often walk along the route that’s also my running one - all the way west along the Hudson and up into Riverside Park - but today I decided to go through Central Park. I haven’t been there in a while - like since the classical music concert at Naumburg Bandshell in June. I usually head north and cross east around Lincoln Center, then walk up CPW to the park entrance there a little above W66th Street.

Today, as I was going up the stairs there was a big male cardinal perched in the branches there! I stopped in my tracks and watched him. I tried to surreptitiously slip my phone out of my pocket and take a picture since I was so close to him but he got wise to that and fluttered away, returning but deeper into the bushes, unseen. It still seemed very much like a blessing, though, little sweetheart.

It feels good to be back in NYC although I took quite an epic walk - like you and used to! - and am pretty knackered right now on top of the jetlag. Before I fade and hit the hay with an earlier than usual bedtime, I just need to prepare a birthday card for your mom and order her a cake for next week. Then, it’s off to sleep. See you in my dreams, I hope!

Two Cardinals!

I think I’ve told you before, little sweetheart, how wonderful it is to spot a cardinal here in New York. I’d never seen one in the city until a couple of years ago during the pandemic when it seemed that the pause on human bustle led to an abundant return of nature.

There are a couple of places where I’ve seen cardinals in the city. High up in Riverside Park, almost to Grant’s Tomb, there’s a wooded section called “The Wild”. I went up there a year or two ago in the height of August to record cicadas and I saw at least half a dozen cardinals as I made my way quite up through the winding paths. Sometimes in between buildings just west of Lincoln Center, where there’s something of plethora of trees, I’ll see one alight.

They’re incredibly songful! They have the most unique calls, probably at least half a dozen different ones. It’s hard to believe it’s all coming from the same bird!

Anyway, today I saw both a male and a female cardinal. And in a place I’ve never spotted one before - over near the dog run in Riverside Park. I saw the bright red male bird first and then right afterward, his more muted-colored mate. They sort of went back and forth between trees, alighting a bit higher each time they took wing and then came in for another landing.

The legend of cardinals is, of course, that when you see one, it means that someone who you love dearly and has passed has come to visit you for a while. I also quietly stop whatever it is I’m doing and just watch and listen to them. And think of you, of course.

With all my love…

The First Butterfly of Spring

Little sweetheart, even though we’re had a relatively mild winter, it sure has been reluctant to make way for spring! It’s finally beginning to warm up into the high 50’s and 60’s a feel a bit more like what we imagine late May and June to be - just, ya know, a bit more seasonable.

Very much like the route I use running along the Hudson and then up into Riverside Park, I also take a similar path when going for a long walk and in the midst of either/both is the long pedestrian path they call the Serpentine. Around 93rd Street is a beautiful little fenced-in garden that volunteers attend to.

That spot is almost invariably where the first signs of spring are visible, I think. The foliage begins to emerge, blooms and blossoms appearing and finally, like today, the first butterfly of the season! It was a monarch and absolutely glorious.

We’ve been worried about monarchs - you mom and I talked about this last year - they’re in danger of going extinct. In fact, your mom planted some milkweed (which monarchs feed on) to do her part. It’s so lovely seeing this beautiful sign of spring’s arrival, little sweetheart. And unfailing I think of you. 

With all of my love...
 

In The Hours...

I don’t want to go too heavily within these pages in talking about the band - even though, as I’ve told others so many times the entire project is of, for and about you. But exactly because it is so very much about you, I just want to say that In The Hours Left Until Dawn has somehow really seemed to have struck a chord with people and, especially, remarkably, in a spiritual sense.

A lot of reviews and broadcasters have focused on that. Montreal’s Jefffey Davison (CKUT) among them who said that all of our work has had a spiritual component but perhaps never more so than this album. Another, Portland’s Uncertain Reverie, has described it as “Beautiful, shimmering, hypnotic, dreamlike; always a sense of passage through unnameable dimensions; the haunt is palpable but as an enveloping wonder and at times I felt I was listening to stained glass…" .

An interview I did with Fringes of Sound editor Lars Haur a few weeks ago was broadcast on April 25 and I got to talk a lot about not only how much the project is devoted to you, little sweetheart, but how you yourself are the very soul of it. I love that people understand that. I think you may remember that I told you our friend Neal Huff did a podcast with me on the anniversary of the release of Of Love and Loss and one of the things that he remarked on was how extraordinary he thought it was that this project continued to bring you to others, for people to be touched, as so many of us have been so deeply, by your beautiful spirit.

That’s entirely why this project goes on, little sweetheart.

I had stepped away from this blog briefly last year and honestly I am rather daunted still by trying to complete the first book of memoirs for you. But I will continue to return here, just to tell you little things about daily life, my memories of us together, my enduring love and admiration for you, and my faith that we will one day be together again in The Forever. 

With all my love…

 

The Night Before

It’s the anniversary of our last wonderful night together, little sweetheart. We had pizza (!) and fell asleep entwined waking up that way so sweetly, too, the next morning. And it was a lovely, wonderful day until it became the Worst Thing Ever. I was already planning to take things very easy tomorrow, hyper aware of this dark anniversary but I was sitting here on the sofa and the moon was so full and bright, it drew me to the window and your attention. How well I know you are forever and always, but even if I begin to gird myself, sure that I will fall into despair and grief, you come for me, just as you did from the first, saving me with your incandescent love. Thank you, my little sweetheart. I see you. I love you. Forever.
 

Winter Birdsong

Little sweetheart, I saw some lovely little sparrows on my walk in Riverside Park today. Even though it’s gotten quite cold, they were out and up in the bare limbs of the trees, singing happily. I always stop to listen to their songs and think especially of you. It’s been a little while since I’ve seen a cardinal - which is always so magical - but I’ll be on the lookout. 

Our neighbor, KC, over on W51st, right next to the Sacred Heart rectory, has the steps and edifice of her brownstone festooned with lights and evergreen branches. The beaches are so thick and prolific, some robins have taken to nesting there! It's really wonderful to pass by and linger on the sidewalk watching them each day. And I'm right next door to say our prayer, after. 

Thinking of you, as always. Love you forever.
 

Nov 2 - All Soul's Day

Today is All Soul’s Day, little sweetheart. The twin of yesterday’s observation of All Saint’s Day. 

Both because of the pandemic and because of other changes in leadership, I don’t really have a church to go to in person to observe the day. But I have found some very beautiful and meaningful services online. 

I think my favorites are those from Trinity Church all the way down at the bottom of the island, near the World Trade Center memorial. Trinity Wall Street, it’s sometimes called. It’s one of the oldest churches in New York and has really thoughtful, beautiful services. An old friend of mine from DC actually works as a church administrator there, so perhaps I’ll go in person, someday. 

And I’ve just begun to know of a much smaller little church, somewhat closer to home - in the East 60’s - called the du Saint-Esprit, a French church where they hold Taize services. Taize is that French traditional candlelight meditation service that I used to attend at West End. Saint-Esprit holds Taize on Thursdays and I think I may go to one soon. 

Regardless, my little sweetheart, I am in prayer and meditation today, thinking of and longing for you with all my heart and soul.  

Easter Sunday

Little sweetheart, today is Easter Sunday.

Sunday service is really nice but honestly, it’s the ones leading up to it that are the most meaningful to me. Maybe because I don’t remember observing any of them as a child - just Easter Sunday itself. And mostly, I think, for the reasons I’ve told you here - how the great gift of your love so changed and saved me.

I do have on our album, our 5th - Electric Hymnal - which I’ve often described as a sonic prayer for you. It was very much inspired by my experiences at West End and I had wanted to write and record something to express that - how it helped my mindfulness and listening for your celestial, guiding presence. It kind of marks, too, the beginnings of our using spoken word in our work. I think it holds up pretty good - it came out in June 2016 - and it takes me to you immediately.

Happy Easter, my little sweetheart!

Saw a Cardinal!

I’ll admit, little sweetheart, that I begin to get more than a bit impatient for the weather to turn nicer once we get to April. A kind of frosty air more identified with February than the first days of spring often seems to keep us in its grip periodically all the way to May 1st! And it was still a bit on the chilly side today as I went for a long walk, taking a day off running because my knee is acting up. If you weren’t in the sun and the wind kicked up, it wasn’t very springlike. 

But as I was walking through the leafy courtyard that adjoins four tall apartment buildings around W68th Street between West End and Amsterdam - a little space I affectionately call “The Quad” -   I saw a cardinal alight before me! 

He was a really small little guy. It’s too soon for babies, I think he was just petite- ha! And he kept flying back and forth between trees and branches and singing. Cardinals are incredibly songful, I’ve discovered. 

Of course the thing I like most is that legend has it that when one sees a cardinal, it signals the spirit of a beloved calling to and visiting us from the other side. I always stay and watch, linger and listen, and say a little prayer. My thoughts, my heart, filled with you. Thank you, my love.

In Your Arms

Little sweetheart, on this sad day, my thoughts are, as ever, of you. How terribly I miss you. How grateful I am that you found me and brought such light and love into my life. How I long to be with you again when God finally calls me home to your side. 

Last night, something very unusual happened. The westside was cloaked in fog, as if we were back in the Inner Sunset of San Francisco as we were in those best days and nights and years of my life - simply with you. 

Fog in NYC is quite rare and I couldn't help but think, indeed, know, that you were putting your arms around me, letting me know you’re so much closer than I can even imagine. 

My every thought is of you. On this day and every day. And I love you. Forever. Forever.

 

About Today...

11 years ago, little sweetheart, I woke with you for the last time. You were curled up in my arms with your little feet around my ankles, your hot water bottle pushed off the side of the bed to the floor, warm enough now in an embrace. You kissed me and we lingered together for an hour.
A beautiful day, warm and glistening and filled with love and promise and adventures together, that ended in tragedy and left me forever broken.

I look for you everywhere and seize upon anything that might be a sign, a trace of you trying your best to comfort and guide me. I can't know the day. I can't know the hour. I can't even know why I remain. But I must listen quietly and simply have faith that someday, some hour, sometime (and may it be soon), I will be returned to you.

I've a picture of us, a selfie before people called them that, of you and I, our faces pressed together, your lips upon my cheek, standing within a stone circle at the edge of the world - the end of the Sheep's Head peninsula out beyond the lighthouse on our trip to Ireland. Moments after it was snapped and we began trekking back to the village, we got lost, taking a wrong turn and losing the path. It was becoming dusk and I got worried. I ran ahead looking for a fork that would return us before it got dark and we were truly lost. You cried out, because I was walking too fast for you, and I turned. When I did I saw a sign - only visible from this direction, only able to be perceived because I was turned away from the rogue path, only visible because I was turned to FACE YOU - an arrow that showed me, showed us the way. The True Way.

And that way is you, my little sweetheart.

In all things, how you have saved and changed and guided me, from the day I met you to this very moment when I can't touch or see you, when I ache to do so, still you find a way to help me find the way. Ever grateful, I love you forever. And trust my soul, which is best equipped to hear you, which is itself half of your own, to perceive your guiding presence and lead me home. For home is you.

With all my love forever. Forever, Summer. Forever, my little sweetheart. Forever.

Bakery Dream

A wonderful dream of you this morning, little sweetheart, before waking! 

We were standing together at a counter in a bakery of some kind. You had only just arrived and I didn’t know I was going to see you, that you were here and well and with me again at last. I was overjoyed. You said so yourself telling me, as we stood there in line “You’re so excited,” you said, “I think you might start dancing!”. 

As we waited our turn, I was impatient to place our order and just get outside so we could be alone together. I told you that I had so many things to ask you and to tell you. For some reason, I’d brought along a box of little cakes that I had saved to give you. I may have had them for years, for ten years or longer, like since I’d last seen you. I asked the guy behind the counter if they had these same little cakes fresh and could we get new ones for you. 

While we waited you asked me if I just wanted to get a little snack or did I want to have a full meal. Before I could even answer you told me that you were really hungry and wanted a full meal yourself. You asked me kind of perfectly teasingly, “or do you just want to have a coffee?”, knowing and remembering how I was always drinking coffee at every hour of the day or night and never having enough water or eating properly. 

We were actually waiting for coffee because they were out but were brewing a fresh pot. Other people were in line behind us. We decided we’d get a little something now and take it to go while we went on a walk in the lovely weather outside but would also go out for a nice dinner soon thereafter. 

It was incredible to have this wonderful, happy dream of you, little sweetheart, just before I woke up today. I’m so very grateful. How very much I love you. Forever, Forever!

Robins in the Wreaths

Little sweetheart, for years there was this building next to the Sacred Heart rectory on W51st Street that was covered in scaffolding. More than that, it was encased, it seemed - like a wooden box had been built over it hiding whatever renovations were underway from prying eyes. For years, I say. Like at least 5. 

One day late last spring all of that came down and you could start to see the renovated building - a three story brownstone - and even its interior through the windows. It looked amazing. One day I met the owner, Casey, a young woman with a toddler and a dog, outside the building and we hit it off. She’s super nice. Later I met her husband and her eldest boy, I think he’s about six or seven. 

One of the things that I’ve loved about walking past the house is how she’s decorated it festively over every holiday. It was amazing on Halloween with cobwebs and pumpkins and everything. And just now, for Christmas, it looks absolutely beautiful. There are lights - simple, pretty white strands - at night, and by day it’s just awash in pine and red ribbons. There are wreaths and the front stairwell wrapped in thick, beautiful pine branches all the way up. 

I was coming back from my run and there was a robin perched in the midst of it all. He didn’t even flinch when I approached. I think he thought he was a in a forest! And then when he flew up a bit higher, I could see there were yet more birds, a couple more robins and a handful of sparrows, also nesting within. The first robin hadn’t flown higher so much to get away from me than to have a bit of lunch - Casey had weaved holly within the pine branches and our robin was feasting on a couple of little red berries hanging there! 

It was absolutely magical, little sweetheart. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell you! 

With all my love.   

In Dreams... and snow

Little sweetheart, you were in my dreams last night! In fact, you’ve been a regular visitor the last several nights now that I think about it and remember! I always feel so grateful after and it helps me so, little sweetheart, because it feels like I’m doing better when you visit me in dreams, like maybe I’m doing things well and right.

Settings, like the actual location that is the backdrop of a dream, can sometimes be mysteriously unknowable and altogether minutely detailed at the same time, don’t you think, little sweetheart? Sometimes I’ll be in a place that I seem to know quite well in the dream but outside of it, like when I wake up and try to recall, isn’t someplace I’ve ever known or even seen at all. This was one of those.

You and I were in a big, old, beautiful, many-storied house. There were other people there, too - I’m not sure who all, maybe your mom and dad - through some of the other rooms. One thing I do remember was that our London friend, Kris, was there.

You and I were going from room to room, just in the course of our day and getting things done, and I had a snowball in my hand. It wasn’t melting or anything and I wasn’t about to throw it, I was just carrying it like one might carry a book or something from room to room, not even remembering I had it in my hands. Finally you pointed it out to me. I hadn’t even seemed, quite absentmindedly, to notice.

“Where did you get the snowball?", you asked. And “do you wanna set it down somewhere, like in the  freezer or something?”

I have no idea what it might have meant, little sweetheart. I need you to tell me! Ha! Can you please visit me again tonight and explain?

With all my love…