I learned today at reiki that Coleen’s not really gone, she’s just wearing different clothes now. She’s still with me but in a much different way. She’s on a different plane but still able to help guide me.
I learned today from Rebecca at reiki a new theory on why people die and it’s for one of two different reasons. One is they they were unable to achieve their purpose here and gave up. The second reason is that they were successful in achieving their purpose and because of that, were ready to leave. I believe it’s possible Coleen had done that. She had impacted, healed and helped people, inspired them. Coleen knew that she couldn’t do more by staying but could still make a difference if she wasn’t here. Her passing has produced many changes in me and perhaps I will be able to make a difference in others.
I learned today at reiki that when Rebecca puts her hands on my chest and holds them there, I can feel Coleen. And today when she did that I saw brilliant shades of fushia swimming through my head. Fushia was Coleen’s favorite color before she passed.
I learned today that I am being enlightened a little more every day, sometimes without even noticing. Little things like seeing and hearing with greater clarity. Sometimes it seems as if I am looking at everything through freshly cleaned windows. And hearing sound as if it’s coming through brand new speakers. I am creating a new Rob and the increased awareness is a big part of that. The more I notice and recognize, the stronger and more helpful I can be to myself and people around me.
I learned today that people are going to start noticing me more because of my experience, knowledge and awareness. Maybe in a way similar to how Coleen was such a magnet for people to gather around. Maybe in a way totally different than that.
I learned today in reiki that my body, my vessel, can be completely seperated from my mind. It can sink into the softness of the bed on which I lie while my mind thinks of nothing yet is aware of all. My senses so aware of sound, fragrance, feeling and light. My breath a wave rising and lowering inside me while I think of nothing but the moment.
I learned today from Deepak Chopra in meditation that love is like water; it becomes stagnant if it is not flowing.
I learned today after reiki that my throat chakra is very strong allowing for creativity and communication. I learned that when I unknowingly chose the throat chakra bracelet from an assortment offered me by Rebecca.
I learned again today that there is no such thing as coincidence when I ran into Barb, Coleen’s good freind and fellow cancer patient on my way out. Barb was on her way in and was Rebeccas’s next client. Barb and I have been trying to arrange a visit but have been unable to connect. Barb started seeing Rebecca for reiki healing after Coleen suggested it. Just like me.
I learned today and every day, that I am different than before. I might look and sound the same to most people but I am evolving into someone new. I’m not sure how acceptable that might be to some people but I know it opens new opportunities for me.
And I learned from myself that if it’s true that people die for one of those two reasons mentioned before, then there must be something in store for me. I don’t think I’ve accomplished yet what I am supposed to and I’m not leaving until I do.
Last night I attended a yoga class. It is a six week “Intro to Yoga” which I am taking for the second time. The first time I took this class it was given to me as a gift from Coleen. She always thought yoga would be good for me and of course, I was always reluctant to try it. The gift certificate had a way of forcing my hand and with that gentle persuasion of hers, Coleen got her message through to me.
Going there last night was a little strage for me. The studio, Healing Waters, was Coleen’s place. She took many classes there and made many friends including the owner and Coleen’s favorite instructor, Felicitas. Those two were of like minds and had much admiration for each other. Felicitas is the instructor for my Intro course and she is such a unique woman. She has a calmness and a peacefulness about her that is contagious to those she is with. Myself included.
By entering Healing Waters last night, I was entering a piece of Coleen’s world. I have been doing a lot of that in different ways. I have also found myself adopting some of her hablits, assuming some of her roles, her responsibilities. My daughter Lindsay said she is noticing how things are kind of shifting and people are redefining themselves to try to fill the massive void Coleen left us. I think that’s true of Lindsay and of myself but I can’t speak for many others.
Coleen was the matriarch of this family. She was it’s heart and it’s soul and her passing left much more than a void. To me it is more akin to a black hole in space. I don’t imagine that void will ever be filled. We might be able to mend some of the damage, to apply some bandages and maybe some emotional duct tape that will help. But none of us can ever be Coleen. She was much better at being Coleen than anyone else could ever come close to. She was at the center of things. Planning, guiding, counseling, advising, selecting holiday menus and vacation spots. She was the one everybody else deferred to. She was the one we all wanted to be with.
I have found myself shifting. I was never the patriarch nor do I necessarily want to be. In some ways my previous role might best be described as Coleen’s partner, her balance, security and foundation so she could be Coleen. I supported her, questioned her, challenged her, helped her and loved her. And she did all that for me. Now I can neither be those things nor receive those things and I have voids of my own to fill.
In some ways I think I am trying to fill them by taking on some of the roles of Coleen and even some of her lifestyle. There are certain things that are obvious as far as the day to day shopping, cleaning, laundry, cooking and changing the sheets. But other things maybe not so noticeable have been happening. My relationships with my children are different because their Mom is gone. I can’t replace her for them but I can be more attentive and be a better listener. I can try to offer the guidance and support Coleen did. I can make dinner sometimes. And I want to be a better grandfather to those two little girls who lost their Grandma and keep her memory alive in them.
I am doing some of the things she loved like reiki and yoga and massage therapy. I am trying to make some of her recipes and taking dinner to Lindsay’s house. I am encouraging (nagging) Patrick to get married or put himself in a place of greater opportunity or both. I am adopting some of Coleen’s habits and characteristics like making lists like she used to, going to Wegman’s more than once a week, rushing so I’m not late for things, reading more than one book at a time, having a messy bedrom but a perfect bed. Last week in Florida I wanted to buy some souveneirs for the granddaughters. On any other vacation we would have done that together and Coleen would have had better ideas than me. I bought them each little beach bags, tie-dyed t-shirts and a little conch shells. I think she would have approved.
I am changing and will contiue to do so. Some of my changes will help fill the void left from Coleen. But none of us can replace her and how she thought and what she did. She was the only one who could be Coleen.
There were three days between Coleen’s final evening and the first day of her arrangements and they were very busy and hectic. People at the house, coming and going, Lots of talking, crying, emotions. Making plans for her wake then the funeral service. Lindsay, Karen and I spent a couple hours with the funeral director making decisions about dates, times, death notices, urns and so many other items. The next day Lindsay and I met with Mother Liza, the dean of our church who would be performing the funeral service at St. Paul’s Cathedral. We talked about Coleen a great deal and selected readings and hymns.
It seemed that there were people at our house around the clock. Lots of food was given to us by neighbors and friends, lots of mouths to feed. One of the many activities that was crucial to properly remembering Coleen was to make some poster board sized photo collages. It seemed that everyone had a hand in that and we needed them all. We have so many photos! Drawers, boxes, albums full and that didn’t include what I had on CD’s, hard drives and my iPhone. This was a daunting task.
We spent hours pouring over the collection, setting aside the special photos that we wanted to consider for the finished product. We went all through the last 33 years or so plus the childhood photos that her parents brought over. The vacations, holidays, birthdays, parties and just living life in general. At times it was a lot of fun to look back at that and other times so emotional that I had to look away or leave the room. My God, what a life we had together.
I kept waiting to uncover a specific photo. It was one of my favorite pictures of her. It was taken just before she turned 30. We were on vacation in Cancun and we took a ferry to a tiny island called Isla Mujeres (Island of Women) for the day. Once there, we rented a moped scooter and spent the day buzzing around the island and it’s beautiful beaches. Somehow we found this little seaside restaraunt called Maria’s and stopped there for lunch. This is where Coleen would have been able to enhance this story because her memory for details was unequaled and she would be able to recite exactly what she had for lunch and what wine she was drinking. I don’t remember for certain but I believe there were margaritas and a bottle of Pouilly-Pouisse on the table at different times that day at Maria’s. And we had fish and salad and a wonderful day. I almost crashed that moped once or twice after lunch but we managed to find our way back to the ferry and to Cancun. In the photo, Coleen was sitting at our table in her swimsuit and sunglasses, she had a drink in her hand, a red flower in her hair and one of those big Coleen smiles. She was beautiful.
During the photo collage process, I tried to keep calm waiting for that photo to materialize but it never did. I decided not to stress about it, that it was here somewhere and got missed with all the people looking through things and mixing stuff up. We ended up with three huge poster boards and could easily have had twice that many. There were wonderful photos of her. Just not that one from Maria’s.
On the second day after Coleen’s funeral service, I was up early. Her urn was on our dining room shelves kind of crowded with some other things and I wanted to give it some space. I started moving some of the shelf occupants around and saw on the top shelf another photo box. I remembered putting that up there several years ago under Coleen’s direction and remembered that it was empty. So I grabbed it and was surprised by it’s weight. I brought it down and took off the lid and saw it was full of photos. I reached inside and pulled out a fistful and looked at the one on top. You can probably guess.
I have a theory about that. About finding that box, about finding that one photo in that whole box of photos with my first try. About trying so hard to find it during those previous days.
I wasn’t supposed to find it then. Not when there so much commotion, so many people, so many other photos that it could have gotten lost in the shuffle. Instead, I was supposed to find it that morning when I was all by myself, when there were no other photos or people around to distract me. So Coleen and I could be alone together with it. And remember that beautiful day.
I was talking about this story and this photo and describing it the other day to my new friend, Jo. She asked me if I knew what it meant for a girl to have a flower in her hair. I said that I didn’t. Jo smiled at me and said, “It means she’s spoken for. She’s taken.” I liked that. And I like to think she’s still spoken for.
I was having lunch at Hooters yesterday and the girls there made me an offer. They said they would give me a free draft beer ($4.00 value) if I would buy one of their calendars for $13.00. And that was before I even saw a menu.
They showed me the calendar. They probably thought that I would be unable to resist their offer once I laid eyes on the artistic merit of young blondes in orange hot pants, white tank tops and over emphasized breasts in pathetic poses with fake smiles. I was trying to visualize the sight of that work of art hanging in my kitchen when my granddaughters came over to visit.
I guess the Hooters girls sensed my apprehension because they then moved in with their kill shot. “And the proceeds go to breast cancer.”
I was just trying to get a salad and a beer. I am here as a direct result of losing my wife to metastatic breast cancer. I don’t really want to hear about how committed to the cause Hooters and all of its large breasted girls are to “breast cancer.” I notice the pink paper towels scattered throughout the restaurant. I guess that’s Hooters idea of commitment or awareness maybe. I did not want to get into a breast cancer debate with one of these girls. It wasn’t really their fault that they didn’t know any better. Or was it?
I tried to stay out of it but ultimately, I had to ask, “How does it go to breast cancer?” “What do you mean? It goes to breast cancer!” Like that was some destination or secret bank account that all these monies were magically directed to. I said “Well, you know, does it go to research, Komen, some sort of Hooters foundation? How does it go to breast cancer?”
“It just does! It goes to breast cancer!” I stopped there. I know when it’s time to stop. It’s hard to reason with someone dressed as ridiculously as those girls are. I ordered the garden salad with chicken, balsamic on the side, Heineken draft. And I passed on the calendar.
But I must say, ” shame on you Hooters.” If you are going to ask your young darlings to shamelessly hawk your merchandise in the name of a cause, to trade it off for free beer, could you please first educate them on what the hell the cause is?
It is likely that a significant percentage of those well endowed waitresses of yours will someday grow up to be breast cancer victims themselves. Like about 1 of every 8. Please teach them what they need to know. Or else next time I’ll go to Subway.
I don’t remember where I first heard it, but I do recall it was with Coleen. We were on vacation somewhere and we read a quote that said “In the mountains, we forget to count the days.” Well I am going to modify that to read “In Ft. Lauderdale, I forget to count the days.”
I am at day six of my seven day stay here and it is like no vacation I have ever taken. I am alone with no schedule, no deadlines, no car, no showtimes to catch, nothing to be late for. I have all day to do nothing and I am getting pretty good at managing all my time.
Exactly one week after Coleen’s death, I was encouraged to take a month and just go hang out on a beach somewhere by myself. At the time I thought it was a nice idea but didn’t take it seriously. Even though the person doing the encouraging was Coleen. More about that later.
At that time I was about four days away from returning to work and felt a responsibility to do just that. My employers had been very kind and understanding during Coleen’s sickness and I did not want to take advantage of the situation. I also thought the length of time was a little too long. I mean what was I going to do for a whole month by myself? That’s a lot of books and a lot of sand.
I returned to work on schedule and somehow managed to drag myself through most of that week. All the time thinking, though, what am I doing here? What do I really want and need? I knew that I didn’t want that job any longer. The stress and tension it caused me had already taken a toll and I felt much too fragile to continue to deflect it away. Rebecca encouraged me to think about myself first, what I wanted. My daughters did the same.
I invited my practical side into the discussion and started playing with numbers and figures. Or as the song goes, “I was just guessing, numbers and figures, tearing her puzzles apart.” I prepared a budget based on me with little or no income. With me quitting my job and going into retirement mode. It looked like it would work but I was thinking maybe I was missing something. I mean, how could it be possible that I could quit working at 60? I met with Kent, my financial adviser and he agreed, “Rob, it looks like you thought of everything. You might have to cut some corners but this can work for you.”
Cut some corners to stop working? I was ready to make that deal. I talked to my bosses and told them of my decision. I was sorry to be leaving them so suddenly but I had to what was right for me and working for them wasn’t it. Two weeks later I walked out the door there for the last time.
During those two weeks, several things happened resulting in me being in Florida. Probably the most significant of those was when my daughter Lindsay and son in law Mike arranged a timeshare trade for a week they were not able to use. They found a beautiful ocean view condo in Ft Lauderdale where I am staying, and booked it almost before I could say “yes, please.” I had accumulated many free Southwest Air miles and found direct flights. And I received more counseling and reiki from Rebecca and she thought it would be a great opportunity for me to be alone and nurture my healing. She was right, everybody was right, including me and Coleen.
Now here I am on my balcony, shirtless, ocean breezes messing my hair and helping me heal. I am doing something I have always loved and wanted to do. This morning I woke up with an old Harry Chapin song in my head. It’s called “Taxi” and in it he sings “She was going to be an actress and I was going to learn to fly…” but for me, I was going to learn to write. Feels like I’m finally getting that chance.
My biggest daily decisions down here are what time (or times) should I go to the beach and where should I have dinner. And the easiest question to answer is when can I make time to write? All day, every day, wherever I am, whoever is around. I have many random thoughts and ideas for articles and I try to write them all down so I can work on them later but some have gotten away from me. That does not worry me though because I’m certain they will return when it is time. Sometimes I feel guilty because I want to spend time writing and think I should be on the beach vacationing with my Stephen King novel and a cold Heineken. But the writing part is so much fun for me I feel like I’m on vacation anyway. It certainly doesn’t feel like work. So I compromise and take my journal and pen with me wherever I go. And a cold Heineken.
I recall listening to a live recording of singer/songwriter Neil Young from sometime in the early 70’s during an especially prolific songwriting period for him. While introducing his next song, which he had just written,he said, “I’ve had so many songs come to me lately, I don’t know what else to do except sing them.”
I’ve had so many thoughts and things to say, I don’t know either. So for now, I just write them down and keep them safe.
