Quinoa, Apple, and Cilantro Salad & Eulogies... a Tribute to Michael

by Amy

“He was a strange little kid,” said Ruth. “I liked him.”
And there was Laurent Lepage’s real eulogy. Stories of his stories. Of the funny little kid with the stick, causing havoc. Creating chaos and monsters and aliens and guns and bombs and walking trees.

A eulogy is an accolade to the recently dead. Usually. A eulogy is a written or spoken statement that celebrates the life, summarizes accomplishments, or praises someone – usually soon after they have passed. It’s memory put into words. It is how someone is remembered.

I have read that some tribes used to sing a person’s song when they died. Or right before they died. I’m not sure. Sing their song, tell their story, praise their accomplishments. They are rituals that facilitate closure. They are also a reminder, to those who are still living, that the things one is remembered for aren’t necessarily the things we frequently judge as measures of success.

[…] Gabri, walking over with a plate filled with apple pie while Olivier’s was stacked with quinoa, cilantro, and apple salad.

This week Louise Penny’s husband, Michael, passed away.

Unlike Laurent Lapage, he lived a long life and his death was not wholly unexpected or violent. I was touched – and moved to tears – when reading the words written about him. His eulogies.

On her Facebook Page, Louise Penny shared the news with us by saying:

“Michael passed away last night, at home, at peace, with love. ‘It’s not so much that his heart stopped, as that he’d finally given it all away’. Surprised by joy…”

I did not know Michael personally, but I think many of us feel as if we know him, at least a little bit, through their openness in sharing their journey the past few years. Louise Penny is gracious in calling her fans her friends. She starts and concludes many of her newsletters by thanking us, as friends, for being part of her journey. She has been so welcoming and inclusive in sharing not only her literary journey, but Michael’s diagnosis, that I think we all felt like he was not a stranger to us.

I was especially moved by the tribute written by the CBC news: Link to article. Michael was an accomplished man. He was successful in many of the ways society traditionally classifies success. I thought it was lovely that the article emphasized that while he was a recognized and highly competent professional, “it is his kindness and gentleness that stand out”.

What a wonderful way to be remembered.

Surprised by Joy.

He’d given all of his heart away.

Kindness.

Gentleness.

What a beautiful human being.

As I said, I did not know him personally. Most of us didn’t. And I’m sure that, as for Laurent Lepage, his real eulogy is in the “stories of his stories” and those who knew him best are the ones who will eventually move past the pain of loss and into that realm of contentment at having known him and at having had the privilege of having his stories interwoven in their own stories.

In a sense, though, Michael is part of the stories Louise Penny chose to share with us.

Dominique Aury, in a spoken interview, said that:

“When one writes one never lies. What I mean is, one can recount things that are not true, but it’s not possible to disguise oneself when writing. That doesn’t exist. You give yourself away.”

Louise Penny gives herself away. Her writing is honest. Beautiful. Full of courage and grace. In both her fiction and her interviews and posts and newsletters there are tributes and nods to this wonderful man she loved so well.

While we may not be personal friends, through her art she has given us a glimpse of herself and those around her. We have been gifted with insight she has sprinkled throughout her books.

“It is not enough to devote all one’s reading time to nonfiction, on the theory that one will find useful facts. Feelings, too, are facts. Emotion is a fact. Human experience is a fact. It is often possible to gain more real insight into human beings and their motivations by reading great fiction than by personal acquaintance. People reveal comparatively little about their inmost natures even to their closest friends.”  (Eleonor Roosevelt in TOMORROW IS NOW).

Louise Penny’s books are full of emotions, human experience, motivations and inner natures. She has a gift for weaving the workings of the brain and the heart into her stories. She shares so much of herself. It takes incredible courage and honesty.

I confess that I am in awe of her.

Gabri had apple pie (my husband’s favorite). I probably would have chosen the salad, just as Olivier did.

I made this salad this week on the day we learned about Michael’s death. I shared it with a friend and it was a joyous occasion. As I made and ate it, though, I offered up a prayer for Louise Penny. I prayed (and pray) that she finds comfort and solace in her wonderful memories of Michael. I pray that she continues to be supported by friends and family and to find her new normal, without him.

I think that, like Clara, she has painted “self-portraits” in her books. Because she is willing to look honestly into herself, she has also gained insight into other people’s hearts. I think there are clues, in the latest books, that she was preparing herself for this moment. Like Clara in THE LONG WAY HOME, she too faced the possible loss of her husband and watched him trail a path where she couldn’t always follow.

Michael seems to have been a brave man in a brave country (reference to Marilynne Robinson’s GILEAD). And Louise Penny is an admirable woman for how she has chosen to share this journey with us.

I am in awe.

I am also challenged in how I choose to live my own life.

Michael is an inspiration.

I have said before that George Elliot’s words from MIDDLEMARCH summarize, in a sense, what my goal is as a person… Michael seems to have lived a life that merited words similar to that quote as his eulogy:

But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs. (George Elliot – MIDDLEMARCH)

He will be remembered fondly. Even by those of us who only knew him through Louise Penny’s words.

I pray that, when my own time comes, the fruits I leave behind, the seeds I have planted, and the life I lived are as worthy of fond memories. To be remembered, by professional colleagues, for his kindness and gentleness? That was the biggest takeaway of my week. Beautiful human being.

Quinoa, Apple and Cilantro Salad

This salad was very (VERY) easy to make, chills beautifully, looks fancier than it should (since it’s so wonderfully easy), and tastes even better the next day. I used red quinoa, but I’m sure you can use any kind.

Preparing the quinoa: I cooked one cup of quinoa in 2 cups of organic chicken broth. You could use vegetable broth if you’re a vegetarian.

I diced two Fuji apples and chopped one big bunch of cilantro (I know that’s not very precise… we’ll just say lots of cilantro).

As soon as the quinoa had chilled a bit, I tossed the three ingredients with the juice of about one lemon and a splash (a big generous spash) of olive oil. I then added a handful of sliced raw almonds.

It was delicious.

All quotes, unless otherwise stated, are from Louise Penny's THE NATURE OF THE BEAST