Coleen had a sprawling plant hanging in our dining room window. It was a Philodendron plant and it was beautiful. She started it several years ago from little more than a seedling and nurtured it into a very impressive plant hanging from a shelf and touching the floor. I always thought it was a little too long as some of its leaves actually dragged along the floor. But that’s how Coleen wanted it to look so I just left that one alone. I put it in the category of her clothes piled up on a chair in our bedroom, a nightstand stacked with books and papers and a car that resembled a closet. Those were all just little nuances of who Coleen was and I was glad to accept them as part of her overall package. Always happy to trade some minor annoyances for the privilege of her love.
Coleen was very proud of her plant and often commented on how well it was doing. She paid a lot of attention to it and she told me that she even talked to it sometimes. On the rare occasions that she was away, I was always reminded to water that thing. Since she passed, I have been giving her Philodendron plant special care. It has been on a regular watering cycle and I have hung it outside a few times when it was warm enough so it could get some sun. I have been very careful and feel very responsible for the health of that plant.
A few weeks ago I noticed that it was getting root bound and outgrowing the ceramic pot it was in. I thought it should be transplanted into something bigger, but I was afraid to do it, thinking I would break something or kill it. So I decided to take it to a florist and pay them to do it for me. Then I had another idea.
What if instead of putting it in a bigger pot and me bringing it home and hanging it back up so it could get bigger and end up taking more floor space, what if I did something else with it? What if I had the florist take that beautiful plant that was so special to Coleen and divide into six smaller plants that I could give to Lindsay, Shauna, Coleen’s sisters and her mom. I thought that would be a wonderful way to share something so dear to Coleen as a symbol of her life perpetual in our hearts. I was very proud of that idea and when I told people what I was up to, it was hard for me to get the words out without choking up.
I picked my new plants up yesterday and Mary Ann from the florist shop told me an interesting story about Coleen’s Philodendron. She started by asking me if I believed in spirits. I smiled and said “Yes, all the time.” Mary Ann went on to tell me how busy it was on the day she was going to take on my project. Phones were ringing incessantly and the store was crowded with customers all morning. She finally decided that she had to take care of my plant and went to the backroom. As soon as she started working om it, the phones stopped ringing. She looked out front and their store was empty of customers. Mary Ann said it took her and another girl about 30 minutes to turn Coleen’s large Philodendron into six smaller ones. And not one phone call, not one customer while they were working on it. Then as soon as she had the sixth plant safely planted, the phone started ringing and the customers were back. But for the time required to perform the important task at hand, they were able to give 100% undivided attention to Coleen’s Philodendron plant.
As I have stated many times before, I don’t believe in coincidence. It doesn’t surprise me that some energy that we don’t understand might have had a say in how much business Petals to Please was going to do while the transplanting was being done. I certainly believe it. After hearing the story from the florist shop, I wondered if this was even my idea or if I heard a whisper from someone suggesting it to me. Of all the things I have done since Coleen’s passing, this might have been the most magical. The plants are still beautiful, just smaller but there’s more of them. I gave the first one to Karen last night and she loved it. Especially once I explained to her what it was and where it came from. The others will love theirs too and I will love giving them. I feel like I’m giving a piece of Coleen to some of the really important people in her life.
Don’t worry, I saved one for myself, too. It’s in the dining room right where it was before. Waiting for some sun, some water and a little talking to.
I feel weak right now, very tired. Kind of rung out emotionally. It’s no wonder considering my activities of the last 24 hours. Last night I spent some very private time on the three-month anniversary of Coleen’s death. An easy dinner, glass of wine and some music led me up to right around 8:40 PM when my emotions peaked. I didn’t have the moon to cope with last night because it wasn’t visible through the thick cloud cover. I would have liked to have seen it but it was probably just as well. My heart got a little break instead. The moon was bright this morning, though. I walked into my bathroom a little before 6:00 AM and there was a bright light shining through the window and on to the floor. I smiled to myself as I noticed it. So the clouds were a little too heavy last night, but this morning wasn’t too late to get a message across? I got it. I took a picture from my bathroom window and also through NightSky. There was a very bright star next to the moon and I learned that was Jupiter. I haven’t figured out the significance of that yet.
For the past few weeks I have been wrestling with a car dilemma. Specifically, I have two and only need one. I inherited Patrick’s Mazda when he moved to New York City and I also had Coleen’s Honda Odyssey minivan. I have been trying to sell one or both but with no luck and decided to trade them both in on a different vehicle. Something more appropriate for a guy like me, whatever that is. After some negotiating with the Honda dealer, I worked out a deal and bought a new Honda CRV which I picked up today. That was supposed to be fun except I had to drive Coleen’s van to the dealership and turn it in as part of the trade. Oh, brother! Not so much fun. I had already given that car a pretty thorough cleaning a month ago when I listed it for sale. That was emotional. Today I emptied everything from Coleen’s van, drove it to the dealer and sat in it for several minutes saying goodbye. With emotions flowing the whole time.
We bought that van more than nine years ago from the same dealership where I was turning it in. There was so much of Coleen in that van that it broke my heart to give it up. She drove it every day, it was her car. I acted like I had some ownership in it and made the payments on it, but it was hers. She deferred the driving to me when we were going somewhere together in it, but it was still her car. I had a very difficult time giving that up today. When I got to the dealer, I just wanted to sign my name, exchange keys and come back home. I knew it would be hard to see that car go and it was. But it was something that had to happen, part of life’s master plan for me. I had to let that thing go so I could make room for something new. Another metaphor for Love, Loss and Healing. You have to learn to let go before you can move forward. Right?
I did come home today in a brand new car and that helped dull some of my pain. When the salesman was briefing me on the intricacies of my new car, I was only half listening, though. The other half was still focused on that 2004 Honda Odyssey I would soon be leaving behind . But I was making way for something new, something I wouldn’t have otherwise. I took some comfort in the fact that the license plates on my new car were the same ones from Coleen’s car. We just transferred them. She had a little glass heart hanging from the rearview mirror of the Odyssey and I took that off and will hang it on my new rearview mirror. I was also able to salvage two bumper stickers from the van. I made one into a wall hanging in my kitchen. The other one is something we bought on vacation in Berlin. I’m not sure yet what it will become, but I’m glad I have it.
So there are some shining moments borne from my clouds of sorrow and emotion. Plus let’s not forget that I do have new car with a sunroof that Coleen would have loved, and I’m very excited about that. Seems like more of the “making myself new” theme. I had two cars from my past, neither one of which fit me now. I turned those into something different, something closer to my newness. And at the same time, I salvaged some artifacts, saved the memories, and survived the emotional storm of the entire transaction. The past 24 hours took a lot of out of me, though. I’m ready for bed. Tomorrow I’ll go for a ride.
I know what they do when a hurricane is expected to hit the mainland in Florida. I’ve seen that all on television. People buy plywood and put it up over their windows to protect against broken glass. They go to Publix or Krogers and buy plenty of water and canned goods for stock. They get batteries and make sure they have flashlights and candles nearby. They are all expecting a storm and taking the necessary precautions for protection and survival.p
My plight is not quite that serious. Or is it? I am also expecting a storm today although mine will have nothing to do with weather. Mine will be a storm aimed at my emotions. Today is the third time the calendar has landed on 18 since Coleen passed away on September 18th and I am preparing for that. I had an especially difficult time of it last month which marked the second month of her death. That evening there was an incredible full moon pasted against a turbulent sky. I could not take my eyes off of that sight. It seemed that each time I glanced away then looked again only a few seconds later, the vision was different. I was very fragile that night and the beauty and shine of the full moon was powerful to me. It was sending me a message, it was not coincidence that the sky and moon would look like that on that date.p
The moon has been a very important symbol to me. Crazy as it sounds, I think it is one of the ways that Coleen and I communicate with each other. She always loved the moon and all of its varied appearances. She loved the light and the full moon was always special to her and she never failed to bring it to my attention. From our second-floor bathroom window, we get a clear look at the night sky and Coleen could often be found there, taking in the magnificence of the moon and surrounding stars. I recall one especially clear night when so many stars were visible. She wondered what she was looking at. I had recently acquired my iPhone and looked for an app to download that might give us that information. Sure enough, I found something called “NightSky” and put it on my phone. A few minutes later, we were holding my phone to the bathroom window and seeing the names of the stars in the sky. Coleen loved that, she loved information and knowledge. NightSky told us where the moon was, too, but we already knew that. It was so bright.p
On the night she died, the moon was so big and so brilliant. It wasn’t full until the next night, the 19th of September. But you couldn’t tell that by looking at it. I came home that night and stood in the backyard and stared up at that moon, that beacon of light and hope. I held my arms out and up towards it trying to embrace its power, feeling Coleen streaming to me through the light. Each of us telling the other that it was somehow going to be alright for everyone. The night of my retirement party last month, Lindsay picked me up and the moon was still two days short of being full. It shined brightly on us and gave us the revelation that Coleen was coming to the party with us. I felt her there the entire night. I will never, ever look at the moon again without feeling Coleen through it. Absolutely never.p
The moon was full last night, a day before the 18th. It was so cloudy last night, though, that I couldn’t see it. The night before that it was nearly full and very bright and I took some time alone with it. I almost wonder if the clouds from last night weren’t hiding the full moon from me, saving it for tonight instead. Or maybe protecting me? Putting up plywood? It won’t be a full moon tonight but it will be close and I know it will be brilliant. Even if it is still hidden by the clouds, I’ll know it’s there and I will be able to see it.p
Today is December 18, 2013. It is three months since I lost the love of my life. One quarter of a year. 90 days. However I measure it, it is an undefinable period of time. It seems like yesterday but it also seems much longer than that. Tonight I will be aware of the clock striking 8:40 PM. I will have plenty of water and canned goods in my pantry and emotional plywood over my windows. Unlike the residents of Florida, I will know the exact time that my storm will reach land. I still won’t be ready for it. p
I have been thinking for a while about having business cards made even though I’m not in business. After a brief search on Google, I found a web-marketer willing to let me design my own cards and ship 250 of them to my house for about ten dollars with free shipping. So I designed this card and now own 250 of them. I am not sure if having business cards is really necessary for me, but I did it anyway. And here’s why:
I have attended two functions where I thought it might have been nice to have something like these to hand out. Once I was at a Breast Cancer Survivor Education Day held by the Breast Cancer Network of Western New York. I talked to quite a few people there and I think I would have passed out several cards that day had I owned them. Actually, I think I would have gone through 25 or 30 of them, easy. Everyone I talked to asked me about my reason for attending. I explained that I had recently lost my wife and came to support and for support. I could have told them more about my story with a prop like this business card. And if they took one of those home with them, maybe they would have dialed up the website and found something of interest.
On a different day, I was at a Hospice seminar about grief and the holidays. There were about 50 people in attendance for that event and I probably could have handed a card to each of them, especially the Hospice speakers. It would have been another opportunity to help a very specific and captive audience by getting them to read my website. And then there was that day when I was getting my haircut and told my stylist Amy, about losing Coleen. Her friend and co-worker Heather overheard our conversation and got upset. She had lost her husband several months prior and was dealing with a lot of hurt and grief. It would have been nice to give her one of these cards, too. Maybe she could have called me or checked in on-line. At least she would have had something with some information on it that might have helped her somehow. Or she could have thrown it away, too. At least she would have been faced with a decision.
So, who the hell do I think I am that I need personal business cards to carry around with me? What makes me so important? I don’t know and I don’t know.
But what I do know is that I think I am developing a message. By sitting at this keyboard with my notes, feelings, memories, tears and Kleenex and typing what I feel, I think I am developing a message that just might help others. It might teach people that when a loss happens, it doesn’t have to mean that all is lost. If someone like me can find strength from within and take strength from others and grow in to a new person with a different direction, then why can’t the rest of us? I believe this website is therapeutic. I believe that people can receive strength, inspiration and encouragement from it. I believe that is the message that Coleen wants me to convey. I believe that’s how she wants to keep helping people from the new dimension she now inhabits. And I believe the truths that I write about, the truths I learn more about everyday, are meant to be healing to not just me, but for anybody paying attention. And I want to get more people paying attention. So I guess that’s who I think I am and that’s what makes me so important that I think I need to carry business cards around with me.
I have two dear friends very special to me who read this blog religiously and I have gotten incredible feedback, inspiration and encouragement from them. I know that by reading what I write, they are very inspired by me and that is such an awesome complement to receive. I am an amateur here, a new swimmer in these waters. But I will not drown or struggle for breath. As much as I have no idea what I’m doing, I know exactly what I’m doing. Business cards might not be something that most retired guys carry around, but it feels right to me. It feels a little like marketing. Maybe I’ll have some refrigerator magnets made next.
The first time I felt Coleen’s presence after she died I was getting massage therapy from Maureen. Her studio is dimly lit and she always has soft music playing along with a variety of nature sounds like water flowing and birds chirping. It is a very relaxing and tranquil place to be. I enjoy going there because Maureen is a wonderful massage therapist and I can usually get myself in a state of relaxation there that I can’t achieve in most other places.
That day toward the end of the massage, I felt a difference and Maureen and I both identified it as Coleen’s presence. Today was different. Seems that things are always some kind of different for me these days. It wasn’t a bad different it was just a new different. I talked to Maureen throughout most of the massage but when I was on my back on she was working my neck, head and shoulders, I went silent and let the atmosphere kick in. There is something about having the full weight of my head in Maureen’s hands that is very comforting to me. It’s as if I am relinquishing control of myself and trusting her to know the right thing to do. And she always does. I like that feeling of surrender and trust. For much of my previous life I had to be the one in control. I was the boss or the father and I was the one people looked to for decisions and answers. Now I love that I don’t wear that hat anymore. Or that I wear it much less often.
My encounter today with Coleen was brief but very powerful. I was lying on my back and Maureen had my head in her hands and I had my eyes closed. There is a light hanging from the ceiling over her massage table and it is kept very dim. I always have my eyes closed and never even notice the light from that light. Today, lying face up with closed eyes, trusting my head to Maureen, I saw a brilliant light. At first it was in the distance then got slowly closer and much brighter. It seemed to settle somewhere between where I was and where I wanted to be and then just stayed there for a time. I knew what it was. I’m not clairvoyant nor do I have superpowers, but I know something precious when I see it. I smiled, I breathed, I choked up. I can’t help but feel different emotions at the same time when Coleen finds a way to present herself to me like that. Mostly I want to reach out and hold her and tell her everything I have been keeping inside and saving for our next conversation. But since I can’t do that yet, I try to stay focused and welcome her presence, receive it, cherish it. Those moments don’t last long so when they occur, I make sure to get every precious second from them that I can.
When my massage was done, I asked Maureen if she could explain what happens when she is holding my head in her hands. I don’t always feel Coleen when she does that, but I do seem to get somewhat emotional each time. Maureen told me that today she saw a glow around my head as she held it and she wasn’t surprised that I felt Coleen’s presence as strongly as I did. She seems to think that my head is perfect during those moments for Coleen to be able to access it. Like it’s portal for her to communicate. I think it’s interesting that Maureen seems to have the ability to coax Coleen to come around when I’m there. Like she’s the conduit that links us. Truth is, I don’t really know what to think. I just know how it makes me feel.
What if instead of putting it in a bigger pot and me bringing it home and hanging it back up so it could get bigger and end up taking more floor space, what if I did something else with it? What if I had the florist take that beautiful plant that was so special to Coleen and divide into six smaller plants that I could give to Lindsay, Shauna, Coleen’s sisters and her mom. I thought that would be a wonderful way to share something so dear to Coleen as a symbol of her life perpetual in our hearts. I was very proud of that idea and when I told people what I was up to, it was hard for me to get the words out without choking up. 