Fun & Family
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"For as much as he seemed to always be in the center of things, and in the public eye, Michael was actually a very private person. He held his cards close to his chest when it came to his personal life."
Talk given by his eldest daughter, Kate, at his memorial:
I am still in disbelief that I am standing here talking about the fact that my father is no longer here. Everything happened so incredibly fast. I was in crisis mode for three months that he was sick, and I have been in crisis mode since he passed. I am afraid that as I speak these words, everything will finally hit and you will find me in a puddle on the floor. And I suppose if that is what needs to happen, so be it . But let’s see if I can get through this without doing that.
It’s a strange phenomenon when you have so much to say and there seems no way to say it. My dad. My daddy. How blessed are my sister and I that we got to have him as our father.
Memorial for Michael Gosney, May 27, 2022, Broadway Studios, San Francisco
For as much as he seemed to always be in the center of things, and in the public eye, he was actually a very private person. He held his cards close to his chest when it came to his personal life. And he also had a hard time being the center of attention. (well, sorry dad) He never wanted to bother people with his struggles and he often minimized what was going on with him, especially if he was going through something difficult.
My dad hated the feeling of getting old. He always felt that his physical age never matched his spirit. In his early years, his body was too young and his mind too wise. In his later years, his mind felt to young and potent for his body that was aging and giving him trouble, and he would get so frustrated. I wonder sometimes if this was one of the main reasons he had a hard time “getting into his body…”
So when all this happened four months ago (FOUR!) it was the epitome of that.
Wait what? This is happening to me? What the hell, body??? I’m in the middle of a thousand projects…I am just getting started here….there is so much to do!
So to watch him coming in and out of his body while he was in his final days was something to behold. The veil between worlds was thin. He would close his eyes often; who knows where he was in his expansion? And then he would suddenly be back in his body, those long arms (that had never looked so long) reaching and flapping against the pillow upon waking. And he would either say:
“WOOOOOOOOWWWW,”
or
“SHHHIIITTT!”
I think his dear friend Amy Carr described it first: that he would be experiencing something incredible beyond this realm and then wake up feeling like WOW that was AMAZING and/or SHIT I am BACK IN THIS BODY!?!?
The first night he was home in hospice, I asked him if he was scared. He said his body felt scared. But he knew that was just a 3D emotion. But he said he was actually looking forward to his next adventure. Might sound strange, but I am actually glad for him that he isn’t confined to the human body anymore. I think it always felt to him like his body was in the way. I know he feels free. No longer confined. Remembering this makes me feel a little better… sometimes.
Michael Gosney and daughter Kate.
My father was a one-of-a-kind human and having him as a dad is something I do not take for granted. I could never keep track of everything he was doing, creating and building. He was overflowing with ideas, gifts and love. He didn’t have any enemies and he had an uncanny ability to connect people and foster personal and professional bonds. He was a philosopher, an artist, a writer, a producer, an innovator and a wayshower.
Also, to me, he was just cool. He was always my best friend. I think he liked being the non-traditional dad, doing non-traditional things with us. I mean, on my 16th birthday he took me to the Haight to get my tongue pierced and then threw me a trance party and taught me to DJ. Sounds trivial, but every year when I would pick out a father’s day card for my dad, it was striking to me how much he did not fit the dad profile.
No to BBQing, lawn mowing and beer drinking.
Where were the cards for trance-deejaying, pot-smoking and rune-pulling dads?
I loved that our father was so unique. I am proud of it. And so proud of him.
I believe it made him proud to include my sister and I in his ever-evolving, counter-culture life. He loved sharing his projects with me, sending me notes, introducing me to thought leaders and exposing me to all of the beautiful, visionary people in his life.
My dad was such a loving man.
My father was a one-of-a-kind human and having him as a dad is something I do not take for granted.
He was the person I called. He just was.
The other day, I was thinking about how I did not get the ‘chill and everything is going to work out’ gene from my dad. I get anxious and way too worked up over things. And he was the person I called when I needed to calm down. Not being able to just call him and hear him say ‘hi Katyheart’ is something I don’t think I will ever get used to.
He knew how to just be there when I needed him. He knew how to soften and be a listening ear. He also had the most amazing ability to see what someone had to offer and empower them to not only act, but to also have confidence in their gifts.
Michael Gosney, daughter Kate and grandson Harrison.
Michael Gosney and grandson Harrison.
This was, in essence, one of his love languages: helping you maximize your potential. I am sure many of you experienced this kind of loving support from him. I experienced in constantly, as I would call him with so many insecurities both professionally and personally. And I can just hear him now: “Listen, Kathryn… no stress.”
Words cannot express how much I am going to miss talking to him. I also don’t know what I am going to do without:
Our late-night conversations about everything from the purpose of life to aliens to babies.
Getting texts from him telling me to look at the moon.
His laugh.
The look on his face when he was with my kids.
His hugs and the shoulder squeezes that always followed them.
Geeking out on our newest supplement, superfood, good coffee or alternative health recommendations with each other.
The spazzy way he cooked in the kitchen. Food everywhere. Slamming cabinets and cussing to himself.
His obsession with containers. If you needed a container for any item…he had one. Oh, and a water bottle too.
Hearing him say “just workin’ away here,” when I’d call and ask how he was.
Getting his voice messages “just checking in sweetie.”
…and so many Butt dials.
Those expressive, long fingers.
Seeing him arrive for a visit, coming up the driveway pulling a big cooler behind him and holding a bag full of pastries. And my kids running to greet him and hugging him as he says, ‘hey hey!.”
I am just going to miss his perspective about so many things; the lens in which he saw the world. My sister, Rachel, is more like him in the way that they view the world almost comically. Everything is more interesting and funnier through their eyes.
Michael Gosney and daughters Kate (left) and Rachel (right.)
Our whole lives, my sister and I have always said “that reminds me of dad” or that is “such a dad thing.”
There is a very specific humor that he had and it was such significant piece of who he was.
My dad inspired me. When I was around him, I feel like I became a more interesting person. Admittedly, I am worried I am going to be altogether dull and too serious without him.
There is no question that my dad accomplished a great deal in his life. The man was raring to go since he was a child. He knew he was here to make a difference and to help humanity evolve; and that he did- on so many levels.
But I can honestly say that if we were to ask him what his greatest contributions to the world were: he would say that it was his grandchildren (and his children too).
How could they not? When he became a grandfather, it was as if his Paternal Self blasted open. I can still feel the love that radiated from his being when he was with his grandchildren.
One of my favorite memories was watching my dad play drums with our son, Harrison. He was two years old at the time. If you knew my dad, you knew that he was so animated in the way he moved, long fingers, long arms. When he tapped his bongo drum, those long fingers would go a mile a minute. He brought my son his own bongo and they had a jam session on the couch I’ll never forget. Harrison was in heaven and you know my dad was. Not sure if it was one of his happiest moments, but it sure was one of mine.
We had a little play area in our home with a kid sized table with kids sized table and chairs. He was so tall and lanky and he did not complain for a second. Him sitting in the tiny chair playing a tiny guitar is one of my favorite memories of all time. Comical, adorable and so so special.
His grandkids were 1, 2, and 4 years old when he passed. It would seem that with them being so young, they wouldn’t remember their grandpa (or PopPop, as they would call him). But it could not be more opposite. They talk about him constantly, they know exactly who he was and the connection they had. They feel and remember his love every day.
It has been a very surreal and heartbreaking experience having to grieve the loss of him alongside my children who are very much grieving him, too. And the fact that he is not going to be here to watch them grow has been one of the hardest things to wrap my mind around.
Clara is walking now and I just want to send him a video of her so he can see. Ophelia is becoming such a hilarious and interesting little person and I want to share with him the wild things she says and does every day. Harrison is ravenous for knowledge and I want my dad to talk to him about space, robots and dinosaurs. I want to hear his voice narrating and laughing about all the things they do.
Until his last breath, the love he had for his kids and his grandkids was apparent. I arrived back to SF with our youngest daughter, Clara, the night before he died. He had gone nonverbal by then and his eyes were closed most of the time.
When I arrived and went to greet him with Clara in my arms, he awoke and reached his arms out for her with such intention, I will never forget it. And then the next morning, Clara and I held his hands as he took his last breath. My father and Clara’s eyes were locked in his final moments. I will never forget her calm gaze and sweet smile and she seemed to silently tell him…
“I love you, grandpa. Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay; I just came from there.’
My dad said “ love you much’ every single time we talked or when he left a voicemail. And in the months since he was diagnosed with cancer, he began saying “I love you deeply” when hanging up the phone. And it is true, my dad loved deeply. And he was so loved in return. I loved, and love, him so incredibly much. And I just keep thinking, as I look around this room at all of you: what an honor it is to have him as my father. I love you, dad. What a trip you had here. Can’t wait to hear all about your next adventure.
In the meantime, I will remember your guidance to:
Follow your bliss.
No stress.
Go with your flow.
Love deeply.
Acknowledgements at Memorial:
It is incredible to see the outpouring of support and love of my father, although not surprising. And I want to thank the incredible team of people who made his memorial happen. I have been in awe through this process. It has put into perspective the level of talent and character that my dad’s circles were filled with. Thank you the team of super producers: Amy Carr and Robert Gelman for being at the helm of this ship . Thank you to Carla King, Andy Fusso, Sun and Allen Lundell, Sherri Sheridan, Steve Wagner, Landon Elmore for handling every aspect of this event from venue, to budget, to the website, to media, livestream, and more. Thank you to Tamara Edwards, Stessa Thompson, Diana Maxwell, Jane Heaven for helping to transform this space into a temple. And for the support of Earthdance International. You have all dedicated your precious energy and time to create this memorial and our family thanks you from the bottom of our hearts.
And while my father was ill, the support he received was unreal. I want to thank Matt Marshall for all that he did. Thank you.
And to the amazing caretakers and advocates of my father: Amy Carr, Marc Kasky, Carla King, Chloe LaBare, Penna Piper and all the friends who contributed in such tireless and incredible ways: Jodi Weiner, Nancy Calef, James Kirk, Bob Duskis, Diana Maxwell. Steve Wagner and Landon Elmore for flying out and staying with him for long periods of time. Being in Southern California with three small children, I felt so helpless being far and not able to just come be with him indefinitely. I did what I could from afar every day but having you all there with him brought such peace of mind. Thank you. You have impacted me in ways I cannot describe.
