|Photo by Raymond Colon|
For the 7 years that Michael served in the Navy, he was mostly based in far-away places. Somehow, we knew our friendship was special, and diligently kept in touch with letters, emails, phone calls, Facebook, and a visit whenever he was on the east coast. He came to speak to my class during my first year teaching in Baltimore, which I think was an enlightening experience for all parties involved.
Getting older and moving around makes staying in touch with old friends harder. There's an illusion of intimacy since we're all constantly aware of each other on Facebook. It's easy enough to say, "We should totally get together the next time I'm in your city!" But Michael really meant it. If we were within 200 miles of each other, we would find a way to see each other.
We said we loved each other a lot. As a society, I think we're bashful about loving too much. We get wrapped up in the implications and insinuations and we treat each other so casually. Michael did nothing casually and we were unabashed in our mutual expressions of love and affection. Imagine if we were all so unapologetic about loving our friends? Just big, bold, audacious love. If anyone is afraid that too much love would make it any less special or intimate, trust me that Michael's whole existence was evidence to the contrary.
A strong theme has emerged in the dedications to Michael over the past few days: It didn't matter if he knew you for 10 minutes or 10 years, he made you feel special. Michael had some sort of super power in that he could immediately pinpoint all of your insecurities, gently make you face them, and just dissolve them, leaving only the beautiful parts. This gift for seeing the beauty in every person he met made him a remarkable photography, and a truly extraordinary human.
“You know when you've found it, that's something I've learned, cause you feel it when they take it away.”
Love you, Michael.