Historians will tell you that the first Thanksgiving was celebrated in 1621. Of course for me and my new world, today is my first Thanksgiving in more ways than I care to talk about. People told me that the holidays would be especially hard when trying to recover from the loss of a loved one. This holiday I am actually recovering from the loss of two loved ones. This is the first Thanksgiving in my life that my mother has not been a part of. And of course, we all know about Coleen and I spending the last 33 Thanksgivings together.
My Thanksgiving memories of my mother are almost all from my childhood days. She made a very big deal of Thanksgiving. We were kind of a vagabond family and never lived near any relatives. My dad had a job where he seemed to get transferred a lot and we lived in several different places in New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio. My grandparents, aunt, uncles and cousins all lived in southern Ohio and just far enough away that many of our holidays were spent without any extended family. Since meeting Coleen, I have become part of a rather large family and I appreciate the warmth of that, especially during holidays. As a child, I didn’t have that experience. I think that’s why my mom made a big deal of things, she was making up for something else. Plus she was part kid herself and genuinely enjoyed these days.
When I was an adult, my mother lived a substantial distance from us and we didn’t see her on Thanksgiving. She was in Arizona for a while but settled in Bradenton, Florida for the past 20 years or so. She also had a lot of health issues making travel difficult. Still, I would always call her every Thanksgiving morning and we would talk about how many pounds of mashed potatoes I was making for dinner and reminisced about Thanksgivings past. She always liked talking about the old days when my brothers and I were kids. I know those were the best days of her life and they were special to us, too.
Last Thanksgiving, my mom had moved to Buffalo from Florida so she could finally be with family on days like these. It was the first Thanksgiving I spent with her in probably 25 years. She came with us to Karen’s house for Thanksgiving dinner and was a little cranky. Truth was, it never took much to get my mom upset. She let too many little things bother her. Anyway, we all got through the day and she got to see some of her family and her great-granddaughters on Thanksgiving day. I know she was thankful for that. That turned out to be not only the first Thanksgiving I spent with my mom in 25 years but also the last one I will ever spend with her. My mom died from a stroke this past summer, just three months before Coleen.
I can’t recount all the Thanksgivings with Coleen. In some ways they were very normal yet every one was something special. That’s how Coleen was with things. Just when you thought it was just another day, you suddenly realized that you were in the middle of something extraordinary. Coleen seemed to have a way of autographing days like this. There was a general sense of mild chaos as we tried to hurry to collect things to take to her sister’s house where the dinner usually was. Even though the meal was served at Karen’s, Coleen was always the one in control. She used her gentle persuasions to influence most facets of the dinner. And nobody seemed to mind. That’s going to be different today. There is going to be a big void today, an elephant not in the room. Hard to handle.
Thanksgiving of 1987 was memorable. It was the last Thanksgiving for my father and Coleen played quite a part in that. My dad lived in Georgia and although we rarely saw each other, we stayed in touch with frequent phone calls. One Sunday he called me and told me his health was bad, congestive heart failure, and he was waiting for a heart transplant. I told Coleen about it and she said we should take the kids and spend Thanksgiving with my dad and his family. I would have never thought of that. We flew to Atlanta, rented a car and spent my dad’s last Thanksgiving with him. When we left his house early Sunday morning, he was standing in the driveway in sweatpants and a button-down golf sweater, waving to us. I knew that would be the last time I would see him alive. I would not have seen him at all if not for Coleen.
I have to leave now. I have to take my 12 pounds of mashed potatoes and two bottles of wine to my sister-in-law’s house and celebrate my first Thanksgiving without my mom and without my wife. I’m going to be there with Lindsay, Mike and the girls and with Coleen’s family and they will all be experiencing a different holiday, too. I better hurry, though. They might need me as much as I need them.
When I was on the beach at Ft. Lauderdale a few weeks ago, I wanted to go in the water. I have never been a very good swimmer and sometimes the ocean is overwhelming to me, but I like to go in about waist deep and let the waves and current have their way with me. It is fun to watch for a big wave and dive into it, feeling the power of the water take control and flip me around but still hanging on to just enough of myself to survive the ocean’s onslaught and find my footing and look for the next wave.
I have done that since I was young. The first time was in the Pacific Ocean on the beaches of southern California in 1964. Mostly, though, it has been in various areas of the Atlantic ocean from Maine to the Outer Banks down to several spots in Florida. I love to see the ocean when I first arrive and treat it as an old friend missing so long from my life. And when it’s time to leave and return to my home, I always get a bit melancholy and feel a degree of sadness as I say goodbye. My antidote for that is telling myself that someday, I’ll once again return to see my old friend.
Ever since a week or so after Coleen’s death, I have been wearing her engagement ring and wedding ring on a gold chain around my neck. I almost never take it off and it has been very soothing and comforting for me to feel her rings against my chest. Of course, I had them on in Ft. Lauderdale at the pool and on the beach and was very protective of them. I certainly didn’t want anything weird to happen that would cause the chain to break and the rings to fall off.
At the beach, when I entered the ocean to battle the tide, I did so one-handed. The other hand was constantly hiding the rings from the strength of the water. I held them in my hand as the waves would push me around and knock me underwater. I always ultimately lose my battles to the sea and this was no exception. But trying to defend myself with one hand occupied as a sentry for the rings was taking too much enjoyment from the task. I was so worried about losing them that I couldn’t really sink my teeth into the fun of the ocean. I wasn’t as carefree as I should have been, as I have been in the past. I was holding back.
Then one time just after wading in the ocean, I decided that I would take off the rings and hide them in my belongings on the beach. I was still a little nervous about them there, but as I got back in the water, I was suddenly unburdened, free to frolic in the ocean without fear of losing anything. I was once again the kid in the Pacific in 1964, or on a boogie board with Lindsay and Patrick in Ocracoke 15 years ago. Or just having my own adventure right where I was. It was a lot more fun without the worry, without the rings. I wasn’t holding back.
I don’t always get the symbolism of things although lately, the past three months especially, I have been receiving messages and meanings loud and clear. What could be more symbolic than me not maximizing enjoyment because I was protecting, holding onto, Coleen’s rings and everything they represent to me? Yet when I took them off, when I was released from their responsibility, I could be who I wanted to be. I could do the things that I wanted do and strut this new newness of mine. Even I can figure out that symbolism.
The post just before this one with the quote “Man can not discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore,” has that same symbolism. It’s the same message. So was the reminder I got from Coleen last week to “get going.” I might be a slow learner sometimes, but I’m stating to get the message.
I liked the quote about the man, the oceans and the shore so much that I googled the author, Andre Gide, to see if he had any other quotes that would affect me. How about this one?
“Nothing prevents happiness like the memory of happiness.”
Not sure how to even title this. I found it on the Healing Waters facebook page. That’s the yoga studio that I attend. And the yoga studio that Coleen attended so often and where she made friends and where she went to be safe. This message is so appropriate for me right here, right now. I can’t hardly think of one better. I love it.
The title of this post is something that Coleen taught me many times in our 33 years together. I didn’t always need reminded but she never missed the opportunity.
Last week I was in a funk. I had a cold, lost my voice to a raspy whisper and was feeling both down and a little sorry for myself. There where events that occurred last week that made me feel even worse and I attribute that to my compromised condition and state of mind. When emotionally healthy, I can overcome many things. When emotionally unhealthy, like last week, I struggle.
Last week I struggled through the 2 month anniversary of Coleen’s passing, the incident in Big Lots with the “Missing You” cards, the threat of losing the contents of my iPhone, and disconnecting Coleen’s phone number. I was also battling a pretty bad cold and lost my voice to a hoarse whisper. I felt extremely out of sorts.
By contrast, today, I feel wonderful. The past several days have been better than the ones before but today, I feel as if my mojo has returned. I am once again walking around confidently and differently than other people, as if I know some secret that they don’t. I am in much better spirits and have handled a couple of situations that reminded me of Coleen much better than I would have the last week. When I heard the Hall and Oates song “She’s Gone” in random play on my iPhone at the gym, I smiled to myself and remembered how much Coleen loved that song. Last week, I would have gone to pieces. Yesterday at church, when we were all kneeling just before the Eucharist and a lone ray of sunlight came through the stained glass window just like at her funeral service, almost teasing me, I held it together. Don’t get me wrong, I teared up a little, Christ, who wouldn’t? But I smiled, too. It was happy and sad at the same time and I knew what it all meant and I was so grateful to feel that. But last week, I might have had to go downstairs to compose myself.
So what happened between last week and this week? Why the sudden composure and understanding of the situation? Well I’m going to give credit to two remarkably intelligent woman. I stumbled into my Reiki session last Friday confused and unbalanced. I was shell-shocked from the series of negative events and my inability to better cope with them. I was still a little sick but it was more my emotional state that I was concerned with.
During Reiki, I have always seen colors behind my closed eyes. I have always been able to breathe properly and to send my breath to different areas of my vessel and to focus it there. That day, because of my cold and difficulty breathing normally, I was uncomfortable breathing into the Reiki and lost much of that experience. As far as the colors, I saw black almost exclusively. I felt that was odd because even when I’m not in a session and I close my eyes, I never just see black. That’s how goofed up and uncentered I was. Rebecca felt it and evidently, so did Coleen who was also in attendance. You know, I hate to keep bringing her up because I know it makes some people uncomfortable and suspect, but when she’s around I think that people should know about it. I felt her very strongly and was on the verge of tears at least three different times. I wanted to see her light through my closed eyes but there was a blockage and I was annoyed by that. Not upset, but annoyed. It was okay though, I can see it the next times.
Rebecca told me that I was right, I was off-balance. She told me to shut down, not to do anything. Don’t try to write, don’t do any work, don’t read. Just watch some movies and eat popcorn but take care of myself and get grounded. She even told me to go outside barefoot and do some standing yoga even though it was about 20 degrees. Rebecca told me that Coleen wasn’t mad but more like frustrated with my state and wanted me to “get going” with things. I took that to mean “get going” with receiving Reiki better, with getting over her and with moving into my new newness. Don’t lose traction. Don’t go backwards. Don’t hold on to what’s no longer there.
That’s my lesson. Everything I was distraught about had to do with not letting go of Coleen. The phone, the phone number, the cards, the two months, the emotions. My truth is I will never get over losing her. My truth is also that she’s gone. I will never be with her like I was for the past 33 years. But she can be remembered without being mourned. She told Rebecca that. Rebecca told me. I got the message and I’m doing much better.
Girls are smarter than boys. Everybody knows that. *
* Coleen Jones, many, many times during our wonderful life together
I am in the process of transferring all of my blog posts from the daddyojones website to this one. Frankly, I didn’t realize how much I had written until I started the transfer process. Eventually I will have everything available here on LLH but for now I’m going to do a little cheating and give you a link to the older blog posts. They are still active on the old website.
So if you have to have more, go to the original daddyojones.com site and begin again. I’m starting you there right where this one leaves off.
