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.”
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
Sometime earlier this year I saw a concert announcement I was interested in. John Sebastian was a singer songwriter from the 60′s who I was always a big fan of and he was performing in my neighborhood at the Lancaster Opera House in November 2. Since it was about a 5 minute walk from our house, I asked Coleen to run over and get us tickets the next day.
Coleen called me from the Opera House that day. She was in the theater with the ticket clerk walking around looking at potential seats. They were trying to pick out the very best seats they could for that show and Coleen called to see if I had a preference. Leave it to her to get as much information, including a private tour, before making her decision. I said that I trusted her judgement and get something as close as possible. She bought F-18 and F-19 on the floor and seemed pretty happy with her choice and we were looking forward to the concert.
Well, Coleen didn’t get to November 2, you know. After her funeral service, I was talking to my old friend Mark who lives about 90 miles down I-90 from Buffalo. We were talking, as we frequently do, about seeing more of each other. I remembered about those John Sebastian tickets and asked him if he would like to come up for that. I was going to have an extra ticket.
He did come and that show was yesterday and we had a good time. Had a few beers before, saw the concert, met John Sebastian afterwards for an autograph, grabbed a sandwich and beer afterward.
During the show, even before during the day, I thought of Coleen. How could I not think of her? This was our kind of event. Custom made for Rob and Coleen. She would have loved it, singing along with the songs, smiling, observing, commenting on things I would have missed. Just being in that little theater with about 300 others, she would have lit up the place. At least to me she would have. I kept closing my eyes, thinking of her, trying not to cry. Thinking of her being in there just a few months earlier, trying on the seats so see which ones were going to be the best for us.
She did a great job. F-18 and F-19 were nearly perfect.
Things in my house have been slowly changing. I have not performed wholesale changes because for the most part, I am quite happy with this house. Coleen and I lived here for the last 26 years. We raised our family here and we each lived here longer than any other house in our lives. But the new reality is that it’s my house now.
I am very respectful of what this house is and has been and I’m very careful about making changes. I have changed some things, left others alone. Right now, my house is a combination of old and new.
The living room is unchanged except for the entertainment area where I have added some stereo equipment , higher fidelity, and some record albums. The dining room is the same except for the bookshelves. I have rearranged some books and added some prints from vacations we took. And of course, Coleen’s urn is there too.
The bathroom has a lot less product in it now. I don’t require much more than the basics to get by and have eliminated extra toothbrushes and hair products. Our bedroom is virtually the same as the last time Coleen was in it. A little less clutter maybe.
I converted Lindsay’s bedroom into a small office and I do much of my writing there. But I did that while Coleen was still here so that doesn’t count. Our third floor is also different since Patrick moved bit I’m not counting that either because that room has always changed.
That leaves the kitchen and that’s where the biggest changes have occurred. You would think that since the kitchen was Coleen’s domain, that room would have the smallest amount of change. But I seem to spend a lot of time here and it seems to be the room with the most to change. Coleen did a log of cooking and used a lot of equipment for that. I don’t plan on being as ambitious as her on that front so I have relocated some of that equipment to the basement where I know where it is but it’s never in the way.
I have rearranged some of the contents of the cabinets to make sense for a single guy or bachelor or widower or whatever it is that I am. And the layout and wall hangings are different. I moved a clock that Coleen hated, raised a light fixture that bugged her, put retirement party gifts on the wall where the clock was, made artwork from an old cutting board and the bumper sticker from her van and hung it on the wall, and rehung a wine cork collage that we took down with the old wallpaper. I moved the table back against the wall under the new artwork and it kind of looks like a bistro in here. I like it.
I’m certain to make more changes as I go. Not for the sake of change but for the sake of making things right for me. After all, it is my house now and if I want my kitchen to be a bistro, it’s up to me to do it.
The Breast Cancer Network of Western New York was holding their annual “Education Day” yesterday morning. Since Coleen had been a member of that organization, I had received a mailing with the details several weeks ago, after Coleen passed. I was intrigued with the prospect of attending but kept putting the flyer aside. I thought I would decide about going later. There were several reasons why I thought it was a good idea to be there. I would meet some of her acqauintances, I would meet people that I had not met, I would learn more about the disease that took her and ways of preventing it. They also had a speaker from a clean air organization that I was interested in hearing. And lastly, the MC was a woman named Melissa who was a local news anchor that I admire and I thought I might be able to meet her.
There was but one reason for me not to attend: I didn’t know if I belonged there. I anticipated that the audience would be mostly females who were breast cancer survivors and I was the surviving spouse of one of their sisters who lost her battle. Because of that, I was uncertain of my place there. But I made plans to be free that morning just in case I decided to go.
When I awoke, I was still undecided but started to prepare as if I was going to attend. I thought, “Well, let’s just keep getting ready until I talk myself out of going and see how far I get.” Which is what I did until I found myself showered, shaved, fed and dressed and eventually, sitting in the parking lot where the event was held. I realized then that I was probably going in and was further encouraged when I noticed Melissa walking through the parking lot on her way in. I suddenly felt very comfortable being there, that I had a purpose to be there, and that I would somehow be guided to that purpose. I went in and acted like I belonged.
And as it turned out, I did belong. I met and sat with a friendly couple named Sandy and Roy and we exchanged stories. I chatted with a woman named Chris who is a licensed social worker and the facillator of the support group Coleen was in. Chris told me about a program she is working on about metastatic breast cancer and we talked about how I could help her with that. As a husband who just lost his wife to that disease, I have the experience and knowledge that could help with such a program. Chris promised to contact me in the near future and I am very excited to be involved with that.
I also spoke with Sharon and Linda who are the co-directors of the Breast Cancer Network. They did not know Coleen all that well but recalled meeeting the two of us at a fundraiser held earlier this summer. They asked me if I would be interested in organizing a men’s group to help the spouses of survivors. I answered that I would be honored. I also engaged several other people, including that cute MC, Melissa, all with a level of confidence and awareness I had not felt before. I’m not sure that people were attracted to me so much, but nobody was scared off. And nobody seemed troubled by my circumstances, either. Most complemented me for attending.
In my journey, it has often been presented to me that I may have the ability to help others. That my experiences, my knowledge, my new awareness are all things that people would seek out. That I would become interesting to people. I still don’t know the workings of all that, but after yesterday, I am much more comfortable and accepting of that guidance.
One last thing and it’s about Melissa. I already knew she was married and about 30 years younger than me. She is also pregnant. But that’s OK, she’s still cute and I got to introduce myself to her and I’m not sure I would have done that in the past. Probably not because in the past, I would not have made it anywhere near that parking lot I found myself in.