The last time I lived alone was June 5, 1981 which is just over 32 years ago. Coleen and I were married the next day and lived happily ever since. Truth be told, she almost lived with me during the months leading up to June 5, 1981 as well. Technically she still lived with her parents but she was always at my place. Coleen would come over after work, sometimes make dinner, and we would spend the evening together talking, watching TV, making plans. And sometimes part of the night amd wee hours as well. I recall her leaving for home around 4:oo AM more than a few times.
Since Coleen’s passing about six weeks ago I have lived without her but not alone. Our son Patrick has been my housemate during that time and as always, has made things interesting. But Patrick packed up and left for New York City this morning and is moving into his new apartment and new life as I write this. It was great to have him here to help me transition and he is always welcome in this house. But his potential lies in New York, not here, and I encouraged him to make the move.
That leaves me with another milestone day today. My first day living alone in 32 years. I had the day Coleen died, the day of the wake, the funeral service, the first day after that, then my birthday, last day of work, vacation in Florida, and now today. That’s a lot of milestone days in a short period of time. I gues when I think of it every day is a milestone without her. Every day, it’s another miracle that I get to the part where my head meets a pillow and I fall asleep. And I can look back and say I made it through another day without her.
I don’t like living alone. Yea, it was kind of novel when Coleen was out of town for a night or two for work. Then I would have the whole house to myself and that was kind of fun. This isn’t. There’s a big difference between having the whole house to yourself and nobody else living here. I guess it’s also nice to only have one person to clean up after or cook for, shop for. But the trade-off of companionship is probably worth it. I am less than one day into this and I’m trying to come to grips with “This is how my life is going to look for awhile.”
When we moved here in 1987, our next door neighbor was Mr. Java. He was in his 80′s, a widower and retired teacher at our high school. I don’t remember exactly when Mr. Java lost his wife but it was at least 15 or 20 years prior. He stayed in his house into his mid-nineties when his sons had to put him in a nursing home. He just stayed his course without Mrs. Java and nothing changed for him. He did nothing to his house except keep it clean and cut the grass. He had a small vegetable garden in his back yard that he tended to but he left the house the same. I don’t want to became Mr. Java. I can not live here alone for long. At least I don’t think I can.
I have been busy today. After Patrick left early this morning, I decided to clean. This place really had not seen a decent cleaning for a couple months. Patrick and I would do the surface stuff daily but we had our limits. When I say “surface stuff” I probably mean we cleaned the panini maker and washed the dishes. What I did today wasn’t exactly spring cleaning but it was much deeper than the house has seen for awhile. During that cleaning process. I encountered items that I no longer need. It’s my house now. I’m the only one living here. So I don’t need four toothbrushes in the rack or organic face cleanser that I don’t use. Things look a little emptier than they did this morning. And it’s very quiet unless I am making noise. I wonder if the house is taking on some of my own characteristics as I declutter myself to make room for newness.
I don’t have a lot of friends. Much of my friendships came through work contacts and I don’t have that right now. I was also kind of protective of my time when I was married to Coleen. I was selfish and wanted to spend as much time with her as I could and I didn’t want to compromise that with too many friends that would also require my time. I guess that sounds kind of stupid but that’s how I felt. We had friends together, couples friends. And I was friends with some of Coleen’s friends, too. After 32 years worth of holidays, babies, birthdays and picnics, I was also pretty entrenched with Coleen’s family, too. It seems different now though that it’s just me. I haven’t heard from a lot of those people and haven’t seen most of them. They’ll probably be surprised when they see me again. Surprised that I am so different than before.
Much as I am clensing my heart of grief to make space for newness, it seems that my house is now taking on some the same characteristics. By minimalizing the belongings and clutter accumulated from various lives that are no longer here, I am allowing room to grow the one that remains. The house will continue to take on more of my character and needs as I go forward. I’m sure there will be more changes to come. To myself, to my house.
The day that marked one entire year since Coleen’s death happened on September 18th, 2014 which was over a month ago. I’m not certain why it has taken me so long to write about that day. I think part of me doesn’t want to say goodbye again and in a way, that’s what this is. Another part of me isn’t quite sure what happened that day or exactly how I felt and maybe it has taken this long for me to get my bearings and get myself centered.
September 18, 2014 was a strange day. It was unlike any day before and I expect it was also unlike any day I will ever live again. I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle that day. On some of the anniversary days of Coleen’s death, I had premeditated plans that I carried out but that day was different. Although it was certainly a day for recognition, it didn’t seem appropriate to celebrate anything. Just as it didn’t seem right for excessive mourning or sadness. September 18th was to be acknowledged this year and as far as I’m concerned, in every year to come. A friend of mine called it Coleen’s “One Year Memory Day” and I could not think of a better way to say it. A day dedicated to the memory of my beautiful bride and loving wife. And to the memory of a woman who was just as wonderful in her roles as mother, daughter, sister, aunt, grandmother, and friend. She died one year ago that day but I did not want to remember her death. It was her life and her love that I was much more interested in.
September was a sunny day. I remember because I was at the cemetery that morning. I brought some sunflowers and arranged them around Coleen’s grave. I was alone there with my thoughts and memories and 365 previous days of love, loss and healing. I was also there with my guitar. I wanted to play her two songs that I learned that were very special to me, “Here Comes The Sun” and “How Can I Tell You.” The first song had already been played once at that site. It was back in April when we had the ceremony where Coleen’s ashes and urn was committed to the ground. I commissioned a cellist to play there that morning and one of the songs she played right after the service was “Here Comes The Sun.” It was beautiful. She was such a talented musician and the song so appropriate for Coleen at that exact moment. It was something she would have wanted to hear. It was something she would have wanted to say and have everyone else hear as well.
My version of that song is nowhere near as polished as the one we heard back in April but it comes with much passion and feeling. I wanted to play it that day not just in tribute to Coleen but also as a message to her. The lyrics, although written in 1969 with a different subject in mind, now seem custom-made for the way I feel recovering from Coleen’s death. Lyrics like “The smiles returning to their faces,” “it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter,” “I feel that ice is slowly melting,” and especially “It seems like years since you’ve been here,” speak so clearly to me about the healing process for me and my family.
That morning, just as took a folding chair and my guitar from my car, one of the maintenance guys from the cemetery fired up his riding lawn mower and went to work on the grass a few rows from where i was. It was kind of loud and annoying and I couldn’t help but ask myself, “Really? Right now he has to cut the grass?” After all, it’s supposed to be solemn in a cemetery so people can go there with their thoughts and memories and every once in a while, with their guitars. I guess that was the moment that the day became clearer for me. That was when I realized that I was not going to be sad that day and I wasn’t going to get upset with anything. I sat down and sung those songs to Coleen with a lawn mower humming in the background and I kind of chuckled about it as I did. I couldn’t help thinking that maybe that was Coleen’s way of telling me not to take things so seriously on that day. After I played the music I was still sitting there strumming and thinking when I heard the silence of the lawn mower being turned of. The guy who was cutting the grass stopped and came over to me and said hello. He said that he noticed me sitting there with a guitar and felt bad about making so much noise while I was playing so he thought he should take a break. Plus he wanted to hear me play. I thanked him and played parts of a song or two and we talked for several minutes before I told him it was okay if he wanted to go back to work. He did and I stayed a few more minutes before getting on with my day. I felt that my mission was done at the cemetery.
Later that day I went to see my friend Maureen for a reiki treatment. That was the only plan I made ahead of time for the day and I thought it was very appropriate to be in Maureen’s room for reiki at that time. I had felt a presence there with her before that was so much like Coleen and I wanted to see if I could capture that again. As it turned out, I did. I know it sounds crazy to some, but it’s almost like Coleen visits me there. It’s almost like there is a spirit or a vibe that is with me in that room. In the past, it has caused much emotion to me as I have dealt with my loss. That day was different. It was a more subtle experience, soothing, calming, reassuring. I felt like I was being told that things are alright wherever she was just as they were becoming more alright where she had been. I mentioned afterward to Maureen, who knew the significance of the day, that I felt very comforted by the reiki session. I think I used words like peaceful, comforting and inspirational and she said she felt the same way about it while she was doing her reiki.
I spent time with my granddaughters that afternoon and evening. I had my flower pin on all day and of course they both commented on that. They know the pin is about their Grandma Coleen and they always notice when I am wearing it. I was happy to be with those two little heart-breakers that day because they were so special to Coleen and they make me feel better. Coleen would have liked it that I was with them and saw my daughter Lindsay that day, too.
My day concluded at home. I had to hurry from seeing my granddaughters so that I would not be driving in my car at 8:40 that night. Coleen’s death certificate says she died at 8:40 PM and I wanted to be home when that time came. I poured a small amount of scotch over some ice and played one of Coleen’s favorite albums. I looked at the moon and thought of her at 8:40 PM just as I had thought of her all day. It wasn’t a lot different from how I remember her all the other times, just special because of the moment.
She was with me that day, calming me. From the levity of the lawn mower in the cemetery to the peace of my reiki to the smiles of my granddaughters to the shine of the moon, I felt her love and heard her whispers. My One Year Memory Day was not racked with emotion. Instead it was filled with comfort and calmness and decorated with the wonderful memories I will forever cherish.
Whether we know it or not, we transmit the presence
of everyone we have ever known, as though by being in each
other’s presence we exchange our cells, pass on some of our
life force, and then we go on carrying that other person
in our body, not unlike springtime when certain plants
in fields we walk through attach their seeds in the form
of small burrs to our socks, our pants, our caps, as if to say,
“Go on, take us with you, carry us to root in another place.”
This is how we survive long after we are dead.
This is why it is important who we become, because we pass it on.
It is truly amazing the things I discover without even trying. Sometimes it seems all I have to do is just show up and have my awareness switch turned on and I am blessed with words like those above. It was written by Natalie Goldberg in her book “Long Quiet Highway: Waking Up in America.” I heard that passage read yesterday at the conclusion of my yoga class. Yes, that’s right. The same yoga class where I heard the beautiful “Letting It Go” last January. Tuesday morning, 9:30 AM at Healing Waters in East Aurora, NY. The class that Coleen attended frequently and I have been attending much less often than she did.
This reading touched me deeply because it is such an apt description of what has happened as a result of Coleen’s death. It describes her and who she was and speaks so clearly of the rest of us, the one’s left in the wake of her passing. We received so much from Coleen and her presence that we all carry part of her in our bodies so that we can pass her on and she can root in other places. The whole concept of it is so beautiful to me. When I hear things like that so randomly, I have to just stop and wonder about the force that brought me to that moment. And be so grateful for whatever it was that put me in front of that reading that day.
I went to that yoga class today because I needed it. With Coleen’s one year memory day looming, I have been a little distraught and I thought yoga would provide much-needed relief. And not just yoga, but yoga at Healing Waters. There is a difference to me. I can do yoga in front of my television while watching a DVD or just by myself in silence. But the environment and atmosphere of Healing Waters is an entirely different experience. As a matter of fact, I could probably revise my intent of yesterday to say that my main purpose was to visit Healing Waters where I would also be taking a yoga class. Shortly after Coleen died I visited a friend and confidante of hers named Jillian. She is a bit clairvoyant and understands things about the other side that none of the rest of do. Jillian told me that Coleen would be able to communicate with me better in certain places and during certain activities. She said that One of those activities would be yoga because when done properly, it opens the mind to more spiritual matters. Healing Waters is the place Coleen always went for her yoga classes and it is where I have gone. Each time I go, I am reminded of Coleen being in that same room and I feel her presence there with me. I felt it very strongly yesterday throughout the entire class. It was especially strong during the Shavasana segments which is the relaxation before and after. During that time while lying on my back, eyes closed, and thinking of nothing, I am very open to communication and alternative thoughts. Yesterday with my eyes closed I was deluged with the color purple,. I was swimming in wave after wave of purple shapes and clouds. I have experienced that color many times before, each time identified as Coleen’s signature to me. Never as dramatic as yesterday though. Never quite as intense or powerful.
And speaking of showing up and discovering things at random, I was presented another gift at yesterday’s yoga experience. We were doing a variation of the Warrior pose where the arms and hands are stretched out in opposite directions. Our instructor described the forward hand, the one reaching out in front of our gaze, as being our “future.” She told us to pick a point of focus and reach out to it as it was our future. I got goosebumps when I heard her say that. It was another example of remembering my past, honoring it, letting it go a little bit more, and then recognizing my future, identifying it, know what and who it is, and them reaching out to it and embracing it. All in one simple yoga posture.
At the church I go to, the same church that Coleen and I went to, there is a bulletin distributed each week to the attendees. The bulletin contains a variety of items, the most important being the outline to the day’s service. There are other pieces of information like who the ushers are and announcements of upcoming church events and functions. The content I was most interested in when I was in church two days ago was listed under the Prayers of the People. That is where they list the names of people on the prayer list and also where they list the names of people whose anniversary of death had occurred during that week. That was what I was focused on last Sunday because it was the week of the first anniversary of Coleen’s death and I was looking for her name in the church bulletin.
Coleen’s name wasn’t in the bulletin last Sunday and I didn’t know why. I assumed that the church had a record of such things and her name would automatically be acknowledged. From previous bulletins, it seemed to me that the deceased person’s name was listed the Sunday before the anniversary but I couldn’t be sure of that. Yesterday I emailed the woman at church who prepares the bulletins and she informed me that the church does not automatically insert the names of the anniversary deaths. She explained that with a $50 contribution, the name would be entered in a “memory book” and in turn would be acknowledged in the bulletin every year on the week of the anniversary of death. I thanked her and told her I would bring the check with me on Sunday and she promised that Coleen’s name would be in this week’s bulletin.
It might seem like a small thing, a name in a bulletin, but not so small to me I guess. I feel that Coleen should be remembered in lots of different ways by lots of different people. Not just me and not just her family but bigger than that. Coleen’s gift of life touched many different people on many different stages. I can’t reach out to them all, I don’t even know them all, but I can get her name in a church bulletin and on this internet and let some people know along the way.
I have wrestled with several things regarding September 18, 2014. It is the one year anniversary of Coleen’s death. I’m not sure I like the word “anniversary” though. That word conjures up thoughts of happiness and celebration to me. And not just me as it turns out. When consulting Google on a search for anniversary synonyms, those were the exact words that presented along with festival, jubilee and holiday. None of those come close to representing my feelings. It is not until I Googled “death anniversary” that I found the darker side with words like cessation, departure, and bereavement. My truth is I don’t much like any of those words. None of them seem to fit.
I have a friend named Sue from the support group I attended last winter. Our group ended after meeting for eight weeks but we have stayed in touch since then. Sue wrote me an email last week after an especially dramatic full moon saying that she was thinking of me and my upcoming “One Year Memory Day.” Not “anniversary of death” but “Memory Day.” I thought that was the perfect way to phrase it, the perfect way to say it. Yes, September 18th will always be the anniversary of Coleen’s death and the time will always be 8:40 PM. But I don’t have to remember that day and that time and what her world and everyone’s world looked like right then. None of us have to think about that side if instead we choose to make it a “Memory Day” to remind ourselves of Coleen and the light she shined on us all. To remember her smile, her voice, hear her laughter and endless words of encouragement. That is what September 18th will be to me each time it cycles through the calendar. Not an anniversary of death but a remembrance day, a memory day. Thank you, Sue.