I will admit, I never imagined this day.

“Where the Wild Things Are” Author Maurice Sendak Dies

When I got to the office this morning, I glanced at my Facebook feed again as I do. Usually nothing has changed in the world during my 7 minute walk to the office and the 5 minutes it takes me to grab a cup of coffee. Today, I was not to be so lucky.

The minute I saw the cover to “Where the Wild Things Are” I let out the groan. I knew, though I had not imagine his death ever before, I knew. As Twitter confirms all deaths, I was quickly jumping to another window to check the Tweet Stream, but already Deidra said it was true.

And, as I do all too often, I sat at my desk and cried.

Let the Wild Rumpus End

I don’t have to tell you again how vital and influential Where the Wild Things Are to me. Just take one look at this blog or any of my “main internet properties” and yes, Where the Wild Things Are is “my theme”. Maurice Sendak has been an idol for over 30 years and yes, of course, we all know that Max is named after Max in his wolf suit.

I sent a texted message to my Max. FYI: the Author of your namesake passed on. RIP Maurice Sendak. 

The one lovely thing and a small silver lining is what followed:

REPLY: That’s too bad. I’ll have to give that book a read again today. Proper eulogy and such. 

To which I took that opportunity to ask whether he still had the copy of Where the Wild Things Are that was purchased by me when he was three days old and sent forth with him when he was surrendered to adoption. And was happily reassured that it was “Right here in my bedroom. As Always”.  Sendak has given me gifts throughout his life, though he never knew. In death, he has confirmed that my son always did have that piece of me, handwritten, in a copy of his book.

Someday, I will have to take a peek and see what my 19 year old self wrote there.

May He Find His Supper Waiting for Him

I have no words. I’m just shocked and sad. I have no deep insights, nor eulogies, or poignant thoughts.

All I can do is recite the words by heart and know that with one look anyone can see that I have been greatly influenced by the life and art of Maurice Sendak.

I have been prepared as other favorites of mine grew old and I knew the time was near. For years I worried about what would happen when Katherine Hepburn passed. She was a favorite of both mine, my mothers and my grandmothers. Kate outlived both of them and in some ways was a final mental link to my maternal line. Kate almost outlived us all. I was actually in the hospital myself when she died just recovering from emergency surgery to remove my damaged spleen. After bleeding internally for over 12 hours, the ER doctors had told Rye that they were not 100% sure that I would make it. Five pints of blood later however, I laid in that hospital bed and cried over the news of Kate’s death.

Some deaths take us by surprise ( Davey Jones) and some we know are coming ( Steve Jobs). Some we should know are coming, like MCA as he was sick, but still we are surprised. At age 83, Maurice Sendak’s death should not come as a shocker, yet I was not, by any means, prepared.

I think I imaged that he would live forever.

I know his influence on my life will.