The more I am around other people who have lost their spouse, the more I understand how unbearable it is. I always think it’s unbearable to me because it is. But sometimes I tell myself to get over it, that it happens all the time and people move on to different parts of their lives. Jackie got over JFK and married that old Greek guy and reinvented herself as Jackie Onassis. Why not the rest of us? Then I realize just exactly what it is that we are up against and it becomes so obvious why everything after loss is so difficult.
The word “loss” is used so much I wonder if we sometimes need to be reminded of its meaning. It is a little word with devastating significance. “Loss” can be defined as “the state of being deprived of or of being without something that one has had” or “deprivation from failure to keep.” Or, there’s this, “the experience of having something taken from you or destroyed.” Those are very dark, sad and foreboding descriptions of the word we have experienced. No wonder we feel like shit so much of the time.
In my opinion, and I have stated it before, there is no greater loss than the that of a spouse. Period. I should qualify that by adding “assuming you are still in love with your spouse when he/she dies.” Under the circumstances of losing while loving, there is no greater pain in the world. Nothing more unbearable. How can anyone be expected to lose the one person they trust with their entire being, their whole existence? To have them taken from us, to be deprived of something we once had. It is so hard to explain the emptiness created, the vacancy in our hearts that aches with each breath we take. I can’t speak for everyone, but I sometimes get an almost claustrophobic feeling, a sense of panic, when I face the reality that I will never see my wife again. I have to sit up or somehow change my position, take a few deep breaths and maybe drink some water to get past those momentary fits of anxiety. When my mother died, my daughter explained her death to her 4-year-old daughter partly by saying, “We’re not going to see Grandma Jean anymore.” I’m not going to see my wife anymore and neither are all the other people who lost their wife or husband. We’re not going to see them anymore yet we are in love with them still. Very cruel, very harsh and very painful realities to face. So difficult, it sometimes seems an impossible task.
How do we deal with this? Where do we take our relief? Some of us have tremendous support systems surrounding us with life lines and compassion in every direction. Some of us have very little of that. But even with the most supportive of support systems, unless a person has experienced the exact tragedy of losing a spouse while still in love, they will not completely understand the cavity we have in our heart. They will never quite get why we feel the way we feel and why we cry the way we cry.
I am one of the lucky survivors with one of those tremendous support systems. My children are wonderful as are some very special new friends I have made. Some of the people I thought would have been more supportive have kept their distance and I understand that. Some of them are dealing with their own loss of the same person, some of them aren’t comfortable talking to me about my situation and feel better staying away. Others probably figure I should be over my loss by now and everything should be returning to normal. But the ones who know me best are the ones who share my loss. The men and women who are “without something they once had” are the people who understand me best. They know what I’m talking about when I talk about missing intimacy and I know exactly how they feel when they talk about being suddenly alone. There is a unique bond between people who otherwise might have nothing else in common. And that bond is all about understanding, listening, hearing, sharing, and healing together.
I am in a spouses support group and have heard stories and felt the emotions of others like me. We are from different areas and generations but we are all in the same boat going upstream without any paddles. We are all in the fight of our lives and we have all lost while being in love. Of all the places I have been and all the people I have talked to since I have become a surviving spouse, that group might be the most healing. I did not know any of these people before but after only a few weeks of meeting for 90 minutes, I feel like we are kind of family. It’s funny how these people know me better in this role than some of my friends and family do. I say things to them i don’t say to other people. They never knew my wife, never saw our love for each other, but they didn’t have to. They had the same thing I had just by a different name. And now they are searching for ways to get relief from “the experience of having something taken from you or destroyed.” The experience of losing while loving.
Throughout much of the time since September 18, 2013 and now, I have discovered many hidden treasures and messages that I thought were too coincidental to be coincidences. And I have learned that there are no coincidences so I take things pretty literally. I had an epiphany a few nights ago while trying to sleep that had to do with two of those discoveries. Individually, they were both very powerful to me. But up until those sleepless hours that night, I had not related the two.
There is a flower that adorns many of the pages of this website and is used as the header logo on all of them. I have stated before that flower was drawn by Coleen while sitting at our kitchen table with our granddaughter, Samantha. They were coloring and talking and Coleen was doodling at the same time. That was perhaps the last time the two of them shared that activity as Coleen was already very sick and it took a lot of effort for her to even sit at a table. I discovered that flower along with her sketches of a tree and even one of me in a pile of papers laying in the kitchen before Coleen died. There was also a drawing of our house that Samantha did in beautiful colors. I didn’t know what to do with them all but I knew they were special, so I carefully put them aside and in a safe place so I could see them later.
When I started this website I wanted something unique to use for some of the graphics. Something that would say “Coleen” every time it was seen. I thought immediately of the flower she had drawn and scanned it into my computer and used it for the logo and other appropriate areas. I could never get the quality of it quite right, though. It wasn’t until I was asked to prepare an announcement flyer for a breast cancer function that I recruited help with making the flower more beautiful. I wanted to use the flower on the flyer, but it looked lousy. So I asked my Photoshop guru son, Patrick to help. He sent me back the flower in all its magnificence and it is on the flyer and I was able to update it on the website as well. It looks so much better and captures the true beauty of the moment when it was created.
That is the first part of my story. The second part is about a quotation I discovered shortly after Coleen died. It was written in her cursive hand on the back of a calender that contained 365 inspirational quotes. Apparently that wasn’t enough for her because she found one from Abe Lincoln that she thought should have been included and wrote it on the back cover. It was on her nightstand and although I don’t know how often she read it, I do know that she lived it every day of her life. It was almost her mission statement.
“Die when I may, I want it said of me by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow.”
I am very proud of the flower and what it represents. It is almost an entire legacy unto itself as it speaks so clearly of Coleen. I also love the Lincoln quote and anyone who knew Coleen would attest that it fits her so well. Perfectly, in fact. And sometime that night, it dawned on me the significance of those two seemingly unrelated discoveries. I can sometimes be really slow to recognize things right before me. Things that seem very obvious to others come much more deliberately to me. I was lying awake thinking of that flower when the quote popped in my head. “Doesn’t that quote say something about planting a flower? Being planted where it might grow? And don’t I have a drawing Coleen did of a flower? And why can’t it be the same flower?”
It now is the same flower. It represents everything about her and is even more of a tribute than before. Last week after Patrick sent me the enhanced flower, I thought about having some pins made of it. People wear pins on their collars, hats, lapels or most anywhere for all sorts of causes or reasons. Maybe there is more to this message than it seems. Maybe if someone wearing a flower lapel pin was asked what it meant, they could answer it is a tribute to a woman who died too young from breast cancer and would want to help people stay alive longer than she did. They could say it is her way and our way of recognizing passion for life, love of family, and desire to help. It is the flower that was planted where a thistle once grew and has now become a symbol for healing and discovery. For all of us.
I guess you might say that things have settled down for me lately. We are late in a February that has provided more than a normal amount of winter and patience is running thin for most people. I haven’t had any epiphany like discoveries in a few weeks but still, little things have a way of presenting themselves from time to time.
I was at a yoga class today where the instructor talked repeatedly of opening up the heart to let things penetrate there. She kept referring to having an open, radiant heart. In just about every pose and posture we did, she spoke of the heart chakra and how we needed to direct our breath to it and expand our chest to expose ourselves to the love and light from our hearts. While she was saying these things, I was trying out some of my new meditation lessons and focusing my closed eyes on a tiny white light that seemed to be right between my eyebrows. It was frequently surrounded by fuchsia colored clouds. After class ended, one of the women in the class approached me and introduced herself. We chatted briefly before I mentioned that my wife had been a regular there until she got sick and that she passed away. I mentioned how lucky I thought I was to have supports like yoga, reiki and massage to help me. Then out of nowhere, she said to me, “I get the feeling you’re up to something. That you are going to do something that will be very special to a lot of people. You’re going to help people somehow.” I liked her opinion on that topic.
I also liked last week when attending a different yoga class, the instructor walked in carrying a book. That is not unusual but what caught my eye was the book itself. It was “One Soul” which is the same book of poetry that Coleen had constantly at her bedside and the one that contained her favorite poem, “Celebrate the Journey.” As the class ended that day, I saw the instructor open the book to read from it. I don’t know what I would have done if she had read the Celebrate poem. Probably cried a little right there on the mat. She didn’t though and I was glad. Instead she read a different poem, one I had not read. It was also beautiful and I appreciated hearing something new.
Speaking of “one Soul,” last week I sent an email to the author of that book, Danna Faulds. I thanked her for writing it and told her what an inspiration her poetry had been to Coleen. I also shared with her the story of me finding her poem “Celebrate the Journey” turned into a piece of art and hidden in my closet. Danna thanked me for writing and sharing my Coleen stories with her. She was very appreciative to know that her work had helped someone like Coleen. She said she never knows where her poetry might show up or how it is received by people unless she hears stories like mine. I was very glad I contacted her.
Three days ago, I was my daughter Lindsay’s house for a family gathering and dinner. We were all in the kitchen and one of the internet music stations was playing in the background. The second song that played was the Beatles “Here Comes the Sun.” Since Coleen’s death, that song has shown up frequently when the family gathers. It is also one of the favorite songs of my granddaughters Samantha and Claire and they sing it whether it’s on the radio or not. We all kind of think of that song as a message from Coleen, you know. It’s got lots of sunlight and all sorts of references to new starts and “smiles returning to the faces.” We never seem to know when it might pop up but it always seems to surprise us.
This has been a long, cold, lonely winter and it’s not over yet. But it’s not too early to think that ice is slowly melting. Little Darling, seems like years since it’s been clear.
I woke up this morning and had an immediate thought. Usually I slowly enter into coherent thoughts after waking up but this morning I had one shortly after opening my eyes. It was the date. February 19, 2014. That meant yesterday was February 18, 2014 which was exactly five months since Coleen’s death. And I went through the entire day without acknowledging it. I can’t believe that happened.
Coleen’s memory was all over yesterday and I thought about her and talked about her far more than I did on most days. I was with Maureen for a massage and we always talk about Coleen. Sometimes, we even feel her presence there with us and that room is a very special place for things like that. I also talked to my daughter Shauna on the phone last evening for quite a while and we spoke of Coleen repeatedly. We even talked about a conference being held in her honor and designing a logo out of the flower Coleen drew that I am using on this website and other places. Shauna did not mention the significance of the date. I wonder if she was waiting for me to say something first or if the date slipped her mind, too? I almost hope she forgot because then I wouldn’t feel quite so bad.
I exposed my writings and this website to someone new last night and talked to them after they read it. We talked all about the life that Coleen and I shared and how special she was and will always be to me. I also went back and read several of those articles myself and got wrapped up in the feeling and emotion of many of them. But through all of those things, I never realized that yesterday was the 18th.
For anyone who has read me here, you know how emotional I have been every 18th of the month. That day has been like a time bomb to me. The only thing worse than that is when the moon is full, or near full on that date. I admit that since retirement, I frequently lose track of the date because I simply don’t need to know it like I used to. That’s why I put any appointment or event into the calender of my iPhone and set a reminder. I didn’t think I needed to that for Coleen’s date of death, but I’m doing it now. I don’t want that to happen again. Or do I?
I have to wonder what it means that I forget the 18th. Is it a sign of progress in my healing that I didn’t fret and get all emotional about yesterday? I spent a lot of time with my memories of Coleen and remembered her fondly with several people. All without being consumed by tears and sorrow. Or does it mean that I am busying myself enough that I am letting go a little bit more than I thought I was? I don’t know. Either way, I don’t particularly like that I didn’t remember and I don’t intend for that to happen again. The perfect day would have been everything I did plus actually remembering it was the 18th. I might be getting better and I might be letting go, but an anniversary is an anniversary. Girls don’t like it when guys forget anniversaries.
I have reached the point in my new life that I think I’m ready for female companionship. Maybe even have a girlfriend. Some might be surprised by that admission, others might be relieved. I myself am confused and somewhat torn by these feelings and the daily conflict I face between letting go and hanging on.
Coleen and I had a wonderful relationship for 33 years. We were madly in love and shared a life that others would be envious of. Now, I am envious of that life and jealous that I don’t have it anymore. Coleen knew I would feel that way and that is one of the reasons she instructed me to find someone after her. By telling me that, she was relieving me of the guilt I would foster in myself by taking that course. She was giving me her permission to let go.
I wondered when the timing would be right for me to put myself in play and actively seek out another woman. I admit to thinking about becoming active for a while, a couple of months at least, but always questioned if I was being too quick in looking for love after Coleen. I felt guilt about doing something that I would have done with her if she hadn’t died. But she did die and that’s the conundrum I faced and still face. I must let go in order to move on.
And what of the woman I find and invite into my life? How fair is of me to ask her to understand me at this particular place in my time? She meets me as a single man slowly recovering from the loss of his beloved wife. I think I am in the right condition to begin a new relationship, maybe even a romance. Yet I know that I am still hanging on to Coleen in different ways. And although my house is slowly becoming my home, it still has much of Coleen and the 27 years of her life here to overlook. It wouldn’t bother me so much to enter a woman’s house after her husband died, but girls are different and I know that would be an issue for most of them. I have been told by a friend that I might want to look for a different house because no woman will ever be completely comfortable where I live. Or how about the rings I wear on a chain around my neck? Coleen’s engagement ring and wedding ring have been dangling around my neck, flirting with my heart since about a week after she died. I don’t ever want to take them off. But what should I expect a new girl to think when I take my shirt off someday and display those rings? How is that supposed to make her feel?
Sometimes, I think I would be better off if I met a woman who had lost her husband. Since I became a widower, I have felt that losing a spouse is the worst kind of loss. There is just nobody in your life that you share the things with that you share with your spouse. All your emotions, troubles, worries, joys and intimacies are placed in the trusts of each other until death do you part. And then what happens after death parts you? A sorrow and vacancy overwhelms us and we want to do what we have always done and that is turn to our spouse for comfort. Only we can’t. A victim of the same pain, a fellow survivor would be able to best understand what my dilemmas are. We would be well equipped to comfort each other, share our loss and our healing. I would not be asking as much of her as I would be asking of an otherwise single woman.
During the past few months, I have developed several activities that not only keep me busy but interest me immensely. I am on a board of directors for a new nonprofit, do a lot of writing here, take yoga classes, get reiki and massage therapies, attend a support group, and have contributed time to my church and some cancer organizations. I am very inspired by these interests and plan on not just continuing them but to also expand them. I want to become more involved in helping people understand loss and their healing and find ways to develop new projects, market and grow the nonprofit, advocate for breast cancer concerns. Of course, most of these interests and inspirations were born as a result of losing Coleen. I would argue that although inspired by her, my participation comes from my enjoyment and ability to bring special talents and skills to those projects. A new girl in my life might think otherwise. She might see my interests as a another way of me holding on instead of letting go.
Some people have already expressed discomfort with the idea of me being together with someone other that Coleen. We were not the perfect couple but we got along well and had a lot of fun together. We presented well and made people very happy and comfortable around us. Coleen and I had many diverse interests and explored those individually but we did so many things as a couple. We were Coleen and Rob to almost everyone. In my new life I am just Rob and that is hard enough for people to accept. It is already a harsh and constant reminder that Coleen is gone. Imagine the uneasiness I will cause when I introduce my “friend” to them. They all know it’s coming but nobody wants to see that.
How fair is it for me to ask a woman into my life and she has that issue to deal with? How comfortable will she be in that situation when I introduce her to my daughters or son or friends or sister-in-law? Or if I am with her and run into one of Coleen’s friends or someone we knew as a couple? I envision that scenario as being not only inevitable, but extremely awkward and uncomfortable for everyone involved. Am I being fair to ask a girl to enter my life and be put in such stressful situations? How about the old friend? She would be troubled seeing me someone other that Coleen. And I would feel bad about being the catalyst for all this discomfort.
Ultimately, I guess it’s going to come down to me being comfortable with myself, my situation and my new friend. Once I am that, I can share or pass that comfort on to everyone else. I don’t want to fall in love right now. It’s too early for me to do that and I am too selfish with my time and interests. But I would like to be able to spend time with a new girl, get to know each other, do some dating and see what happens. I know I have a lot of luggage with me that I have to deal with and that she will have to deal with and I’m worried about how fair all that is for her. I worry about how I will affect my family and friends by being with another girl. I worry about how I will react when I start getting closer to her, when I feel myself slipping away from my past and reaching out for newness. I want to let go but a part of me wants to hang on, too. I never wanted to think about love without Coleen, let alone love after her.
