Here we are – Hilton Head, 2018.

Before.

I use two ‘befores’ now. 

“Before he got sick” is any time prior to June 14, 2019 – the day we learned Mike had cancer.

The other, of course, is the day he died, and means the period between June 14, 2019, and November 2, 2022. 

He’s wearing a jacket, the ever-present orange hat, and his little half-smile. He didn’t love the beach [first]before, but came to love it [second] before.

He was willing – for me, the beach lover – to see the beach with new eyes. I’m grateful for beach memories with him.

I wrote about Mike’s orange hat in June. As the first anniversary of his death approaches, here’s an update on its whereabouts now.

Many of you have suggested that he’s always with me. I know that’s true, and I’ve made sure of it, symbolically. Every time I hit the road, he’s with me. 

Well, his hat is, anyway.

A month ago, I thought I was handling this grief thing pretty well. I know there aren’t any rules. Anything goes. Everything’s right.

This month has been tough. Rough. Hard. 

I know he’s gone. 

But I want him – not just his hat.

That hat.

He wore it everywhere. 

Mike graduated from the University of Virginia, but he didn’t really embrace being a Wahoo. UVA wasn’t his first choice. He endured it. He was, at heart, a Mountaineer, opting to go to West Virginia University for medical school.

In August, 2017, we watched, shocked, as men carrying torches marched across the lawn – Jefferson’s lawn, sacred ground – chanting “Unite the right!”

That was the night Mike became a UVA alum. We went to Charlottesville shortly after the demonstration. We donated to the Brody Jewish Center. And we went to Mincer’s.

To buy that hat.