S2:E1 - 2,118 Mondays

Misha Louy (February 6, 1981 - September 11, 2021)

I am very excited to be back at it. I needed a bit of a hiatus, or so I thought. As it often does, shit just doesn't go as planned. Somehow, I feel busy as always, partly due to the fact that I just don't move along as nimbly as in my previous carnation, pre-ALS. I had planned to keep on writing, but five weeks later and I didn't exactly have a wealth of material produced. However, I did write a very personal and solemn piece that I couldn't fathom I would ever be called upon to write in my lifetime. More about that in the next paragraph. As for me, I'm feeling pretty okay these days, however the symptoms of my disease continue to slowly decline and cause me much heartache, frustration and physical pain. In fact, I'm writing the first two paragraphs and the closing paragraph with my eyes on my kooky EyeGaze technology. Go figure, I'm grateful and resentful at the same time. Some days I still can't believe that I actually have ALS, but I do, and it is what it is. Check please! 

My favorite blanket. A gift from Misha

Moving on to a much more important and heartbreaker during my hiatus.  My dear friend Misha died. His passing was devastating for me and many many others. My love flows out to his family, as they were as close a family as I have been witness to observe. On September 11, 2021, I got a voicemail from Misha's sister. Just prior to making the return call, Mari asked me if I was ready to hear what she had to say, knowing it was potentially sad news. I said Yes. His sister,  Mina,  told us that Misha had died. I cried for the rest of that call and well beyond. Misha was much more than a dear friend, I thought of him as my younger brother. We were incredibly close and as I became more disabled, the closer we became. Misha ran towards me with tenacity and never ran away. I loved him and miss him dearly. Misha was only 40 and lived 2,118 Mondays. He always counted how many Mondays he was on this earth. That was how his brain worked and his gigantic heart was filled with nothing but love. In honor of my kid brother and his loving and heartbroken family, this blog is dedicated to them. Misha cracked all of our hearts wide open, in life and in death. Misha's service was on September 20th and Mina asked me to write an eulogy which I was honored to do. As you all know, my speech is barely audible, so Mari graciously read it for me. What is to follow is my eulogy in its entirety.

Autographed Outlaws guitar from Misha

Anton's Eulogy To Misha -

"Hello. My name is Mari. I met Misha in 2014 when he and Anton were shooting a commercial at UCLA. I immediately felt Misha had the biggest heart inside this larger than life personality. I instantly fell in love. He and Anton were kind enough to hire my son Gavin as a PA. It was his first job on set. He was 12. I could tell Gavin really took to Misha and was enamored by all of his tattoos. Gavin said that one day when he was old enough and had the courage, he wanted Misha to be the one to take him to get his first tattoo. That was their bond. I am forever grateful that we had Misha in our lives, especially the strong friendship we developed over the last few years

Today I am here to speak on behalf of my husband, Anton Maillie, who was invited to say a few words. Anton has ALS and has lost his ability to speak. So I will read his words for him… 

 

       Dear Melo, Francois, Mina and the other family members and friends here today. Let me  get this out of the way now so you don’t think I’m a nut or psychotic. One of the effects of ALS is uncontrollable, or exaggerated, crying and laughter, so I’ll do my best to keep it to a minimum.

 

I knew Misha, I loved Misha like my younger brother, and I miss Misha. Our lives crossed at a multitude of intersections. There was work, we were sober brothers and we were friends, bonded by love and life’s challenges. It was simple, we just showed up for each other.

 

We met in the fall of 2008. We were about to embark on a 3 continent job with  Derek Jeter, Tiger Woods, Roger Federer and others. I was the production company producer and Misha was the agency producer. To add perspective, I was 44 and Misha was 27. The job was scheduled to start in Orlando then move on to Barcelona and finish up in Dubai. I was concerned I got stuck with a young producer who didn’t know anything and just thought it was one big party. I was half right, Misha was a party. I showed up in Orlando and by the end of the first day I went back to my hotel completely intimidated and eating my words for dinner. I just spent the entire day with a kind, lovable, gentle, hardworking man with an intelligence level that was off the charts. Misha was smart, really smart and everyone trusted and counted on him to leap over every hurdle and solve any problem. We continued our work relationship and our friendship took root from that very first time in 2008. I guess riding camels together is a friendship building experience. 

 

The years rolled on and we worked and continued with our friendship, it was so easy with him, and he was loved by many and had friends everywhere he traveled. I got a phone call from him in late 2014 or early 2015. He told me he was going to AA meetings and had been sober for 3 months. I never told him this but I got teary on the call, I was so happy and been praying for that call from him. I asked him what happened that led to that. He said, “it was YOU big daddy, I’ve watched you live life without drugs or alcohol and  thought I  needed that calmness in my life”. We talked for an hour and he asked for suggestions to help him along. I only gave him three; 

 

1. show up on time for all commitments, lunches, meetings and such; 2. make your bed every morning without exception; 3. go to the doctor for a physical. I parroted what was suggested to me way back when. Mistakenly, Misha credited me with saving his life because one thing led to another and the doctors found a brain tumor. He didn’t like when I teased him that he was too smart and his brain just built an additional room. Like so many others, Misha struggled, but I was so proud of him for never giving up. We went to meetings together in NY, LA and Vancouver and we celebrated when he reached a year that first time.

 

Before I talk about conversations we had about family, I would enjoy talking about our particular friendship. From 2008 BC (before Covid), until 9 days ago, our friendship grew and took on many different looks. If one paid attention, then you knew Misha was a complete person. 

 

He was confident and insecure, he was prideful and humble, he was a great listener and talker, he was crazy creative and practical, he was simple and complex, and so much more. To me, Misha was simply Misha, a thoughtful, gregarious, kind and loving dude. I had rescued a dog from a shelter, posted a picture on Facebook and asked for help in the naming of my new puppy. I got over a hundred bad choices. I thought about it for a day, called Misha and asked him if he wouldn’t mind me naming my new puppy Misha. His reply was simple; “I would be honored”. Our friendship was pretty effortless, we looked beyond our shortcomings and accepted each other for who we were and for who we were not. Misha had only known me as a sober runner of marathons. When I told Misha I was having neurological issues, we decided to meet for breakfast so I could fill him in in person. His face dropped when I walked in limping and with a cane. After breakfast, our relationship had changed forever, as he walked me to my car, watching every step I took, helped me off the sidewalk and into the car. He had gone from friend to a caregiver to me in an instant. He would come over all the time to visit, sometimes for 30 minutes or three hours or for dinner or lunch.

 

As he witnessed my disease progressing, so did the frequency of his visits. When I became wheelchair dependent, Misha came over with a gift. He bought me a gorgeous, warm blanket for me to use in my wheelchair. On a later visit we talked about music, in particular what we each listened to in high school. I told Misha that I went through a southern rock phase, like the Marshall Tucker band, Molly Hatchet and the Outlaws. He hadn’t heard of any of them and rightfully so. I went on to tell him I still liked and listened to The Outlaws. About a month later, a fairly large box was delivered to my house. A few days later, Misha came over and opened it for me. He had gone on ebay and bought me a gift. He took a guitar out of the box and it was autographed by The Outlaws. Last week Mina told me how excited he was to give it to me. That is what Misha was to me, a thoughtful, caring and loving soul. 

 

And to Melo, Mina and Francois…you three pretty much dominated many of our conversations. 

Mina, I never met a man who loved his sister more than Misha loved you. You were, hands down, his best friend. It’s no a secret, everyone in our business observed the same dynamic. He idolized and was proud of everything Mina; your creativity, your loving nature, your humor, your intellect, your compassion. You were his blankie in this world. You cracked his heart wide open.

 

Melo, the way your son spoke of you is nothing shy of complete and utter idolization. Misha literally cherished the ground you walked on and everything you touched. He could hardly contain himself every time he went to Mom’s house for lunch or dinner. Those were the only times he would halt our conversation mid-sentence and make a beeline for my front door. He loved you deeply and profoundly.

 

Francois, the ladies dominated the majority of dialogue but not all of it. Your son was very proud of his dad and spoke of you with a certain glow attached. He loved his time spent with you and years back, couldn’t wait to take me to your Brooklyn restaurant. And from a New York Italian (me) for the record, it was excellent.

 

As we all know, any time Misha felt he disappointed anyone, especially you three, his heart sank deep into his stomach and full of regret long after we all moved on. To me, that is Misha, forever striving to be the best Misha possible.

I want to thank Mina for asking me to contribute today and I’ll close with this. I sent a text to Misha’s phone a few days back. I said “the good news, wherever you are, ALS will get me there sooner than later, so please save me a seat at the bar and we can finally have a cocktail or two together”.

My love to all, Anton"

My Misha

I haven't read this eulogy since his service. It really doesn't matter if it is not a perfect eulogy, it's what was in my heart the day I wrote it. My takeaway; go where the love is, and in return, love with all your might. For me, and for most of the people, those that don't feed your soul, love them to, but from a distance. In the words of George M. Cohan "My mother thanks you, my father thanks you, my sister thanks you, and I thank you". See you next week.

...and remember - "make good days great days, no bad days allowed".

Peace out!!!

Anton