On the morning of October 15, 2023, my friend Kayla called me to say that her husband, Michael, had unexpectedly and suddenly passed away the prior evening. Michael was a cherished friend, the brother I never had. To say his passing was a gut punch is an understatement.

I was honored to speak at his memorial service on Sunday, October 22, 2023, at Eisenhower Park in San Antonio, Texas. This is an adapted version of the thoughts I shared with his family and friends.

I met Michael and Kayla when we, along with a group of other like-minded souls, were at a crossroads and wrestling with questions about our past beliefs. While each of those in our weird, little group of spiritual and non-spiritual ragamuffins hold various views, many of us, including Michael, are fond of Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest and mystic based in Albuquerque.

I want to share some of Father Rohr’s thoughts with you:

“Death cannot be dealt with through quick answers, religious platitudes, or a stiff upper lip. Grief is not a process that can be rushed but must be allowed to happen over time and in its own time… Death is not only physical dying. Death also means going to the full depths of things, hitting the bottom, going beyond where we’re in control. In that sense, we all go through many deaths in our lives, tipping points when we have to ask, ‘What am I going to do?’ Many people turn bitter, look for someone to blame, and close down. Their ‘death’ is indeed Death for them because there is no room for growth after that. But when we go into the full depths and Death of anything—even, ironically, the depths of our own sin—we can come out the other side transformed, more alive, more open, more forgiving of ourselves and others…It means that we’ve walked through the mystery of transformation.” (Richard Rohr, Daily Meditations, 8/4/21 and 4/21/22)

When I read Rohr’s words that we “come out the other side transformed, more alive, more open, more forgiving of ourselves and others,” I see Michael.

The first time I met Michael and Kayla was at Freetail Brewing. Michael’s dry and sometimes biting wit — and I mean that in the best way — immediately caught my attention. From the start, I knew I wanted to know the Amtrak conductor from Indiana.

Michael and I shared a love for expressing ourselves through writing. From time to time, he would send me things he wrote, and there was one piece in particular that I asked his permission to include on my blog.

I can’t encourage you more strongly to take a look at it HERE, as it best captures the Michael that intrigued me and so many others.

In the days since his passing, I have heard it said of Michael that he would always find the best way to do something. Whether making the perfect espresso, grilling something amazing to eat, beer, wine, photography…whatever it was, he always seemed to find the perfect way to do that thing. More importantly, he was not selfish about inviting others into what he perfected.

Michael found the best way to be a human being in all the ways being a human means. He found a way to make everyone around him feel welcome, included, and valued regardless of their station in life, their creed, or their position on the political spectrum.

This, written by one of the early members of the group I mentioned earlier, captures what we all saw in our friend:

“Michael, you were such an integral part of the sweet little community we built at a time when we all had too many questions to bear alone. Thank you for being there and willing to ask and hold the hard questions. You were a gift.”

I lost my dad just a couple of months ago, and Michael told me something that stuck with me. He said that when we gather in moments like this, we don’t gather for the dead but for the living. 

It’s not a stretch for us to assume Michael wouldn’t want us to think too much about him. The last thing he would want is to be in the spotlight. So, as we move forward with our grief, let’s be inspired by how he sought to make each of us feel welcomed and included and how we might do the same for each other.