Mike Powell could make me laugh like nobody else. Slapstick comedy, practical jokes, side eyes, funny faces, sarcastic comments, sly remarks, caustic puns…living with Mike when he was in a prankish mood was a never-ending giggle.
I shoot my photos in “live” mode on my iPhone. When I press the photo for action, I sometimes hear a Mike comment, but mostly I just hear my laughter. In almost every photo, there is a silvery trill of pure joy.
Mike just flat made me happy.
He used to ask me why I was so serious. As he got to know me better, he realized I was really funny – but in a very different way. My humor was sarcastic remarks, made-up words, ways to turn a phrase, under-my-breath comments – and we played off each other.
Mike loved my words. It was one of the first compliments he ever gave me – interrupting me in mid-sentence, he blurted out, “Your vocabulary. I love your vocabulary!” It was one of the oddest – and the nicest – compliments I’d ever received. I wrote essays and stories for Mike when we were apart, funny tales of my life and travels, notes to keep him entertained and make him laugh.
Mike’s humor and the way he used words were two of the first things I loved about him. That dry wit just won me over. His signature sayings became a part of my vocabulary, and vice versa.
Over time, I got better at slapstick. I learned to watch out for the cup of cold water flying over the top of the shower stall. Paybacks are a given with me. I’d bide my time, wait several days, then slip into the bathroom when his back was turned, washing his hair. Sometimes he sensed me and ducked, but I usually got a full Yeti of ice water over the top and made my escape – fast!
Mike made me laugh until I literally peed my pants for the first time as an adult. We were down at the chicken pen, and I don’t remember what he said, but I couldn’t stop laughing! We’re nowhere near a bathroom, and I started laughing and cussing him at the same time. He hollered, “Hurry, hurry!” as I dashed up the hill to the house. Of course, that only made it worse, and I threatened him with big-time payback after I changed my clothes! It became our thing – every time I started laughing uncontrollably, I’d hear his chant, “Hurry, hurry!” We would keep the joke going until we were laughing so hard I almost couldn’t draw breath.
Some days we were back in second grade. Slugs, daddy long-legs – he’d threaten to put ’em on me, and I’d just squeal. I’d turn, and he’d have a mouthful of chewed-up food on his outstretched tongue. He’d switch his hat around as we were driving – front, back, side. He’d make funny faces at me. And I’d just giggle helplessly, like we were seven years old again.
Every now and then, I’d do something to get the belly laugh out of Mike. The gut laugh that went all the way to his core. It was just pure delight in a sound. Most times, it was that low, warm chuckle. Thrilled me right down to my toes every time I heard it.
He loved to tease me. He’d tell stories on me about silly things I did and mimic me. Those blue eyes would sparkle and he’d imitate me perfectly, making me laugh every single time.
Mike was still cracking jokes up to the very end of his life. He felt horrible, but he was still funny. I found an email he wrote to a friend about his cancer treatments. He signed it – “Your next American ninja. I applied, waiting to hear back.” That humor, and the positive way he faced each morning, made a huge difference in his fight against cancer. Yes, he occasionally got despondent and depressed, but he was willing to be teased out of it and eventually gave in to laughter.
We laughed every single day. Even when we were having food wars and fussing over his care plan, we still laughed. Even when we were furious with each other, we still found laughter at the end of it. Might have taken us a minute to find it, but we always did.
I’m not Mike. I cannot make myself laugh like that. Laughter like that takes two. And I think that’s one of the largest parts of my missing Mike – the knowing, loving, sarcastic, hysterical, prankish laughter we shared. It was love, friendship, partnership, marriage, shared experiences – that laughter was life. It gave me my sparkle. It filled the silence and fueled our happiness. It overwhelms my memories now.
I found myself laughing while driving down the road the other day. I have no idea now just why, and I didn’t know at the time. It felt so odd – and so good – to laugh again. Laughter is love. Laughter is Mike.
I will carry Mike Powell with me forever in my laughter…at 62.
At 62 