Proof

Thursday. April 17th. I had a hair appointment scheduled for this morning. It was an appointment I made a month prior for a color. I was trying to have it done before our wedding that we were hoping to have on May 1st. I completely forgot about the appointment until I got the text message reminder. Now, I was feeling guilty for keeping it, but I really did need to get my hair done. Especially with the funeral coming up.

I asked my sisters if it’d be okay to still go. “Is it weird if I get my hair done right now? I feel like it’s not right…?”

“Yes! Of course! He’d WANT you to go and take care of yourself in these moments.” So, I kept the appointment, and my sister Mary drove me. We went out to my car on the driveway, but it had a flat tire. Nice. So we took Sara’s rental instead and made our way to the little downtown square.

Downtown is where Mike and I have gone on so many of our dates because we love it. It’s full of great restaurants, it has a super fun vibe, and it’s where we planned to have our reception for our wedding. (The rental fee was paid and we were in the final planning stages at the time of his accident.) We’d also brought the kids to the pizza place so many times, and we had “our table” right by the window. Pop and I always ordered a glass of Bonanza to go with our pizza, and we always had fun conversations with the kids. No phones were allowed, unless it was to take pictures!

I knew that going to the salon was gonna be hard,  because it was just down the block from all of our family’s memories, and memories Mike and I made on so many date nights over the last few years. And, it was just three doors up from where we were having our reception. What I didn’t expect, though, was to be hit with the experience of seeing our family sitting at “our” table as Mary and I walked by the pizza place. “Oh gosh. This is the pizza place we took the kids to all the time,” (starting to cry) “and this was our table.” Like another out of body experience, in a way, I saw Mike and me holding hands and laughing with each other, with George on the other side of him. The girls sitting across from us. I heard the music. I saw our glasses of wine. He had his pepperoni pizza, I had mine. Leah had her Alfredo, the others had their pizzas and drinks. And then…we were gone. Evaporated into thin air as we sisters kept walking. Mary put her arm around me as I wiped away tears.

I had no makeup on because I cried so hard all the time at the drop of a hat that it was pointless. I had texted my hairdresser to tell her about Pop’s accident, so the girls behind the front desk knew. I could read their looks of sympathy as soon as I walked in. I put my color smock on and they called my stylist to the front to let her know that I was there. I cried as soon as I saw her. The last time I saw her, she and I were planning my color and hairstyle for my wedding. She helped me schedule appointments for me and my girls to come in early in the morning of for our hair to be done. And now that would not be happening.

I sat down in her chair and we went back and forth on whether I wanted a full or partial highlight. I went with the full just so that I didn’t have to come back soon if I didn’t want to. I sobbed on and off the whole time with my sister Mary close by.

When she was finished with blow drying my hair I just bawled even more. Pop always loved when I got my hair done because it made him feel so good to know that I was being pampered. He loved the way she cut and colored my hair and I knew that he would have loved the way my hair looked. My stylist and I always enjoyed my appointments because we always had fun conversations together and I know this made Pop beam with joy from above. WhenEVER I came home with freshly colored and cut hair, he just built me up so beautifully and he would tell me how great it was that I was being cared for. She hugged me, and we said goodbye. When I was checking out, I had to make sure I canceled my appointments that I made for my girls and me to come in the day of the wedding to have our hair done. Yet another painful reminder that there would be no wedding.

Mary and I walked to the car and she asked me if I could use some coffee. Absolutely, I could. She treated me to an awesome caffeine pick-me-up in downtown which was very much appreciated.

After that, we decided that we should probably go to the florist up the street to see if she could help me with funeral floral arrangements. She was out on lunch so her husband asked if we could come back tomorrow, which was fine. So we left to go home, and it was almost time for me to go see Father Jack at St. Monica’s. Mary offered to stay home with George who wanted to be able to spend time with Nate up the street. Sara drove me to my appointment with Fr. Jack.

My sisters were my Uber drivers all week and I am so grateful for that. I was in such a zombie state that I know I wouldn’t be able to have done that myself. Besides, my car also had a flat tire so…

Drew met me at St. Monica’s, and he said, “wait, did you get your hair done??” (Feeling somewhat embarrassed) I said: “yeah, it was an old appointment I had already scheduled -“ he interrupted: “It looks awesome!”

“Thanks Drew. I felt guilty for keeping the appointment…”

“No way! Pop would WANT you to do this for yourself!” (I felt Pop speaking to me in that moment through Drew.)

Father Jack arrived and we followed him into his office, where we got to tell him all about Pop. Father Jack and Mike had a great relationship but it didn’t go outside the walls of the church. He wanted to know what he was like on a personal level so that he could formulate a good homily. Drew and I both felt so blessed and privileged to be able to share with him the things we were most proud of about Pop, and just the kind of man that he was.

A lot of what is shared here was shared with Father Jack in a more surfaced way. But what we lived day to day, those of us who are his family, is so intimate and special that there’s no way we could ever be able to share everything with him.

Pop loved a challenge, and sought it everywhere - in all facets of his life. He started working out very young, at 12/13 years of age, because he failed the presidential fitness challenge in P.E., and swore he was never going to let that happen again. He got himself into the gym and never looked back. He joined the United States Marine Corps because he wanted the challenges that are unique to the Corps. He became a Cobra helicopter pilot because it was a challenge he could take on and kill bad guys with. He started businesses because wanted the challenge.

His construction helicopter business, Pirate Airlift, was so challenging in fact that he hated the first 3-5 years; yet he remained in business for a total of 25. What he was able to teach himself how to do, vertical reference flying, is something that very few people can accomplish. He has also taught astronauts, some of the most brilliant people on the planet, how to fly his own helicopter with the vertical reference techniques. He designed the whole program for test pilot school, and was truly a brilliant man himself, even though he would tell you he was the equivalent of a golden retriever.

As a man, he had the integrity and character that we all wish we had, and his modus operandi in his every day life was honesty, kindness, and respect to everyone. He was very much an introvert, but he was so friendly to everyone that you’d never know that about him.  He never knew a stranger, and so many times when we would be out and about, he’d say: “I know that guy from the gym, or I know that lady from….(fill in the blank). I loved that about him so much.

As a father, he was incredible. He was Superman to his boys their entire childhood and even into adulthood. I always hoped that I had the same relationship with my (future) adult children that he did with his boys, and I used to tell him that all the time. He was in some form of contact with both Dom and Drew every single day. Whether it was texting, Marco Polos, or phone calls, his sons always knew he loved them and that he was so proud of them.

As a stepfather, he was all that is good. He was selfless in every sense of the word. He was always fully present with my kids, and was never - and I mean never - distracted by anything that took attention from them. If he had to work from home, he made sure they knew it, and that he’d be done at “x” time. And then, he really was done. He put his phone and iPad away and he was fully present. He made eye contact with them and built them up. He always had advice and a shoulder to cry on. He was never shy about giving hugs, or scooping them up. He always gave my girls compliments on their hair, clothing, shoes, whatever - and always told them how pretty they looked and how smart they are. He also let them know that boys can be really shy (because he definitely was!) and to cut them some slack…but also to not be too trusting of them.

For George, he made him feel like such a stud and a young man instead of a boy. Whenever he brought home flowers for me, he always brought home an extra bunch for George to give to me. He’d pull him aside secretly and tell him: “those are from you to give to mom.” and George would beam with pride handing me flowers.

He would come home from a long day of work, and immediately start with the ballet drop offs. Sometimes he had time to shower, most days he didn’t. I would be cooking dinner and getting that ready so doing the driving was actually enjoyable for him, even when the girls maybe exhibited some of their teen angst, he always wanted to do it. He’d come home and we’d eat dinner and talk about our day. During dinner, everyone always knew that it was time to chat about the good and bad things that happened that day. We used to play “rose and thorn,” as a conversation starter to let everyone share about the best thing that happened that day, and the worst. But, as the years went on, we didn’t even need to formally play it. It just became our dinner time routine that included laughter, tears, sometimes poor attitudes, all things family.

Before long it’d be time for soccer drop off, and/or ballet pickup. Even if we didn’t have a lot of time to chat, we knew that we would have some quiet time together later before bed, which often included frozen strawberries and whipped cream for desert, or hot chocolate. We just always enjoyed each other’s company and looked forward to spending time together. We’d give each other the look of solidarity when we both felt exhausted by it all. And we’d breathe a sigh of relief when we climbed into bed.

The life lessons he taught my kids (and me) are endless. “It builds character” lives rent free in my mind, just like he does. The kids know the importance of being honest and telling the truth - always - even when it’s hard. They know why they should always do the right thing, even when it’s hard. They know to be kind and selfless. He instilled in them the practice of saying “thank you for breakfast/lunch/dinner!” after all of our meals, and to say thank you when they were treated to a meal out at a restaurant. He was always there to fix anything that was broken, to hang pictures in the bedrooms, to teach someone to ride a bike, throw the football around, play outside, you name it. He was just the most present human being with all of us. The trajectory that my kids are on now because of him is nothing short of incredible.

As a husband, he was simply…everything. He was my biggest supporter and cheerleader. He believed in me as a mom and always told me what a great job I was doing with my kids. And when he thought I might be unfair, he wasn’t afraid to call me out and hold me accountable. We challenged each other and truly did the best we could to bring the best out of the other person. Of course we argued - as every couple does. But we always knew we had the other’s best interests at heart and, at our core, we tried to hear and understand where the other person was coming from.

He took the time to teach me things and I was never “dumb” despite having feelings to the contrary. He taught me everything I know in the gym and I still don’t know when I’ll be back. I went this morning and got as far as walking up the steps. I thought I could attempt a workout but, I turned around, walked out and sobbed in my car.

We bonded so much at the gym. It’s where our friendship blossomed and became something extra special. Then, when we first started dating, I joined him and Dom every morning for our workouts and he felt so impressed that I kept up with them. He was the best teacher and really coached me through everything. I miss him so much, and I just couldn’t bring myself to do a workout yet. But I know he’ll be there when I am ready.

After Drew and I met with Father Jack, I needed to meet with Bridget the music director to pick out the readings and hymns for his funeral mass. Sara joined me for that, and that was both challenging but also very comforting because I felt Pop doing it with me - together. Yet, it was so difficult because we went from discussing wedding readings that we wanted just weeks prior, to now deciding on funeral readings. Happiness and sorrow of these magnitudes should never meet - this close together. My body has been in a perpetual state of shock because I still can’t believe this is my life.

Pop and I decided on in his readings and Bridget sent me home with a hymnal to decide on which hymns we wanted to have sung. Sara and I left and I just remember thinking, “this day has been beautifully difficult and I’m exhausted.”

We went home and my sister Mary was preparing some charcuterie for us. George was coming and going from his buddy Nate’s house. We needed to get Pop’s obituary finished and sent out so we poured some wine and got to work. And, because apparently I am a glutton for punishment, I decided to play our “Home” playlist on the speaker, which holds all of the songs that are near and dear to us as a family, as well as to just me and Pop. It’s the playlist that I played almost every single night while cooking dinner. Many tears were cried as I wrote his obituary…about this force of a man whom I love, adore, cherish, and miss with all of my being. Every cell. Every fiber. And then George, who was eating a bowl of cereal like any 10 year old boy, wearing his Pirate Airlift t-shirt, immediately stepped into his new role as “man of the house” came over to me and just held me. He just kissed my cheeks and forehead and told me how much he loved me. Other than that, he didn’t say a word. He just held me. He was Mike for me in that moment, and only the way a son could be for his mom.

See, I believe Mike had been preparing George for this, consciously or unconsciously. Every morning  he greeted George with a:

“Hey! Morning, Stud! Mom, look how tall he’s getting!”

“George, you’re getting so strong! Keep pounding that protein and you’re gonna be bigger than I am!”

“George, you’re so polite and good to your mom. You’re such a great young man.”

And I don’t just mean in the last few months. Mike has been doing that for the last few years. Building up my sweet boy who now has great confidence because he’s been taught so well. He’s learned what it means to be a good man, to have good character, to build character, to be honest, to be faithful, to speak the truth. To be a protector and provider for the women in your life: your mom and sisters, and eventually the only woman in your life, your wife. He learned that from the man I chose and who chose me.

There’s no way an obituary could have described all of the ways in which we were loved, protected, provided & cared for by our beloved Pop. But I am so beyond grateful that we, those closest to him, got to fully experience it in real time, not just through words.

He was (is) proof that God loves us.

https://www.billheadfuneralhome.com/obituaries/Michael-Andrew-Provost?obId=42079685#/obituaryInfo