My wife was taken from me last year. Her wonderful life was shortened considerably by breast cancer. She did not go quietly or predictably. She fought her disease twice with courage, grace, research and alternative therapies. You see Coleen was not one to take such matters sitting down. If there was something to learn, she taught herself. If there was something she didn’t know, she asked. Although treated by the traditional methods of surgery, chemotherapy and radiation, Coleen knew there was more to fighting cancer than just what the doctors ordered. So she combined traditional western medicines with several forms of holistic treatments and therapies to wage her war and protect her wellness as honorably as she could.
Coleen’s holistic weapons included yoga, massage, vitamins, nutrition, reiki, meditation, acupuncture, Eastern spirituality and more. She was an avid reader and remembered details from books long ago read. Her insatiable thirst for knowledge led her in many directions and taught her so many things. Through her holistic practices, Coleen developed an impressive and talented network of practitioners and advisers. It was kind of dream team of support for her and although she never expected to be healed from any one of them, the emotional and internal strength provided by each was crucial to her state of mind as her journey developed.
One of Coleen’s favorite holistic treatments was reiki. Someone recommended it to her along with a reiki practitioner named Rebecca. Coleen loved it. She had several sessions with Rebecca and I was always very excited for her when she told me she had a reiki appointment because it always put her in such good spirits afterwards. I didn’t know much about reiki and even Coleen, as articulate as she was, had a difficult time explaining it to me. Maybe I just didn’t listen well enough, but I knew she loved it and that was really all that mattered.
When Coleen met with Rebecca, there was more going on than just reiki. They talked together. Coleen could tell Rebecca things she didn’t feel comfortable telling others and Rebecca helped her with many things. One of the things they talked about was me. Coleen expressed her concern for me and how I would be crushed by her death. She was worried about how I would get along without her and with the rest of my life. Coleen told Rebecca that she did not want me to be alone and that my life would take on so many changes. Coleen was so worried about me that she arranged for eight sessions for me with Rebecca to be used after she died. She told Rebecca something like “Rob’s going to have a really hard time with losing me and he’s going to need help. I know he’ll listen to you.”
About a week before Coleen died, Rebecca called her. I answered the phone because by then Coleen had lost her voice and couldn’t be heard very well. I had never talked to Rebecca before but she was worried about Coleen and called to see how she was and to offer a reiki house-call. We accepted her offer and scheduled it for the upcoming Friday. Unfortunately, Coleen died two days prior to that appointment. I texted Rebecca to tell her and to cancel the appointment and she said she would get back to me in a few days to see how I was. And she did.
A week after Coleen’s death, Rebecca called me and told me about the gift Coleen had left me, the reiki and counseling sessions she had purchased to help me cope with my loss. As Rebecca explained Coleen’s gift, I was so stunned that I sat down on my porch and let the tears out. Overwhelmed as I was with Coleen’s planning and love, I still had not met Rebecca and had no idea of the power that gift held.
Rebecca and I met a few days later and we talked for nearly an hour about me, Coleen, life with her, life without her and life ever after. She introduced some sound therapy to me and told me she could help me. That Coleen would be helping me through her and that I would be safe. I believed her, I believed them. Throughout the last eight months, Rebecca has been a tremendous guidance and comfort to me as I have journeyed on a brand new path. She has reikied me, counseled me, scolded me, and most of all encouraged me to take on my feelings and my loss and become stronger and newer because of it. She has helped me realize the life opportunities I have before me and how I can be a difference not just to myself but to those around me. She has been a guiding light to me and I truly do not know where I would be, what I would be or who I would be without her.
A few days ago, I had a reiki session with Rebecca. It was different from all the others because it was the last one. I have visited with her at her little reiki cottage at 4588 South Park Ave many times during the past eight months. And many changes have occurred in me as a result of those visits. As that last reiki session played out, I was overwhelmed with emotion. It hadn’t dawned on me until I was under Rebecca’s reiki care for the final time the significance of that session. Suddenly I realized all of the things that had transpired in that room. I remembered the first time I was there, wounded badly by Coleen’s death just a week before. And I thought about all the different things I learned there, all the healing that had happened, all the discoveries I had made, and all the comfort and love I felt from Rebecca and through her, from Coleen. I didn’t always feel Coleen’s presence in the room when I had reiki, but there were many times when I did and they were powerful and emotional experiences. As I layed on that table, I thought about the journey I had taken and what had become of me since I first arrived. I realized what a changed person I had become because of Rebecca and Coleen and what I learned from them at 4588 South Park Ave. I will miss that place and the counsel and talents of Rebecca and the spirit of Coleen. Yet I believe I take from there and from them the knowledge I have gained and the lessons I have learned. I believe I can apply all that into my new life and wonder if that wasn’t the purpose of it all anyway.
One year for Christmas Coleen bought me a book that contained 100 different date ideas. She said it was a gift that kept on giving. So was her last gift to me, it keeps on giving and teaching and healing and I don’t think it will ever stop.
Yesterday morning I was cleaning my house in anticipation of a guest. I thought I would put on some music and decided a record was a good choice since I hadn’t played anything on my turntable for a while. I lifted the cover and saw a record was already on the turntable. It was the Beatles “Abbey Road,” which I had since I was in high school. I had no recollection of putting it there. I admit that some nights I drink a little too much wine, but I was very shocked to see that album. I looked down at the other albums I have and the “Abbey Road” album cover was there among them but was backwards and facing the wrong direction. I am kind of anal about such things and it is unusual that I would have done that, wine or no wine.
I looked again at the album and it was on side one. “Abbey Road” is one of my favorite albums but it is because of side two that I like it so much. I rarely play the side that was on the turntable. So I took it off, flipped it over and started to play the first song on side two which is of course, “Here Comes the Sun.” Something else was wrong. The turntable speed had been changed from 33 to 45 making the record spin too fast and the vocals sound more like The Chipmunks than the Beatles. My turntable was a recent gift from a friend and since I have had it, it’s always been on the 33 speed. In fact, as I stood there in amazement, I realized that I didn’t even know how to change the speed.
That was the point where I shut everything off and sat down. I had no explanation for what had just happened. There is the possibility that I may have done some of these things myself but not all of them. And certainly not changing the turntable’s speed. Of all the signs, whispers, messages I have received, none have been anything like this was. Figuring it out is like trying to interpret a dream which I have never been very good at. I always needed Coleen for that.
This morning I tried it again. I had on side two, queued up “Here Comes the Sun,” found the speed switch, slowed the revolutions to 33 and played it. Everything worked just fine. The album is old and has a few scratches but still sounded quite good. I must be doing something better today than I was before.
I have to leave for a few hours this morning but when I come back, the first thing I am going to do is check that turntable.
I have recently discovered a Buffalo institution. It is a place called Sportsmen’s Tavern and is an old neighborhood bar made over into an eclectic music club. There is a regular music schedule there and most of the talent is from this area although they do recruit some lesser-known national performers as well.
Every Saturday, Sportsmen’s has a matinée performance starting at 3:30 which is perfect for guys like me who no longer possess the last night stamina of our younger days. A few months ago I discovered a band called The Ron Davis Combo. They are an accumulation of several Buffalo music veterans including a very talented singer named Sue Kincaid. The Combo does mostly cover material but they mix in some originals every now and then. But its the covers and the band’s treatment of them that really get my attention. Just about everything they play has some kind of personal interpretation of the original, a certain Ron Davis Combo twist that makes the song almost their own. You have to hear them to believe them, but when I describe the Beatles classic “Day Tripper” with a bossa nova rhythm or the Bill Withers song “Ain’t No Sunshine” with more soul than he ever imagined, maybe you can get the idea. These guys are good.
Two days ago, I was downtown and not far from Sportsmen’s. I knew the Ron Davis Combo was playing that afternoon so I took a ride over to hear them. I forked over the $3 cover charge and found a front row seat at the bar. I ordered a local draft called “Trainwreck,” sat back and fell into the groove. About halfway through their second set, they introduced a song that I had not heard them play. They said only that it was a Beatles song covered by a woman named Nina Simone and that they were going to play her version of it. Nina Simone is an interesting singer who remains unknown to most people. Her music and voice are both hard to describe but she tends toward blues and soul versions of her original songs and the covers she does. I was somewhat familiar with her and was curious about what I would be hearing.
The opening piano riff was hard to identify, familiar but I wasn’t sure what it was. Then the band joined in and I found myself in the opening of the George Harrison classic “Here Comes the Sun.” Only it wasn’t because it had such a soulful spin to it that it sounded like a brand new song. When Sue Kincaid added her sultry vocal, the song really took off and I sat smiling. Then I heard it. I almost missed it but I was able to rewind a few seconds and get an instant replay of the lyrics she had just sung. Instead of the sticking to the original lyrics “It feels like years since it’s been here,” she sang “It feels like years since you’ve been here.” Once I realized what I heard, I got a chill, I smiled and just shook my head. The song was remarkable and I wish they would have played it again.
That night I went home and dialed up Nina Simone on You Tube and found “Here Comes the Sun.” I played it and it was different from the version I heard earlier in the day. A little slower. I actually liked the live version from the Ron Davis Combo a little better and thought it was interesting how they altered the cover of the cover of the original. But that lyric, the changing of that one word from “it’s” to “you’ve” just kept coming at me. Nina Simone sang it that way every time she got to that line and every time I heard it, I was thinking how long it’s been since Coleen has been here. It does seem like years. And it seems like it’s getting longer all the time.
“Here Comes the Sun” has become an anthem to me and my girls as we heal from Coleen’s death. My daughter hears that song on the radio as a way her mom communicates with her. Our granddaughters hear the “Sun Song” and know the words and sing along. The cellist played it at Coleen’s burial service and everyone smiled. I think of the lyrics and the message of newness the song presents and I can’t help but take it as a personal message to move forward with things that I am wrestling with. And with Nina Simone changing that word to “you’ve,” meaning Coleen to me, I hear that message even louder.
It’s funny how that one song has shown up so frequently in so many different ways since Coleen’s death. It seems that it has been everywhere, playing, encouraging, teaching. No coincidences. With lyrics like “It’s been a long cold lonely winter, It feels like years since you’ve been here,” how can I not take things personally? I am putting a lot of weight on the closing words, “It’s all right.”
I did something good yesterday. Good for myself, my children, my in-laws and Coleen’s family and friends. And for Coleen. It was something I have written about here and thought about doing since September 19th of last year. The Episcopal church calls it a “Committal” and I suppose most other religions do as well. It is where a person’s remains are buried or “committed” to the earth from which we all came.
The day was exactly as I had envisioned it would be. It was a beautiful spring morning with the sun shining brightly on us. A slight coolness in the air was offset by the warmth of the morning sun. The scene was set when we arrived although it was quite barren. There was simply a small table placed atop a piece of artificial grass that cover the hole where Coleen’s urn would be stored for eternity. There was also a temporary shelter tent over the area. I placed the urn on the table and a wreath of flowers around it. We had two additional flower arrangements flanking the table and Coleen’s portrait on an easel just off to one side. With those few additions, what was originally a somber funeral scene was converted into a memorial celebration.
Guests began to arrive. The cellist I had hired was setting up her performance area under the shelter. My granddaughters were sitting in the front row in small camp chairs busy with coloring and reading activities. We wandered among ourselves, greeting each other with hugs and sympathetic smiles. Knowing what an honor it was to be where we were but saddened by the occasion. Sharing a few tears and remembrances as we all took in the absolute beauty of the day. A day Coleen would have cherished and embraced.
The cellist stated the prelude to the service with a song by Sting called “Fragile.” It is a very tender song with a repeating lyric of “How fragile we are.” Of course, there were no lyrics that morning but I knew what they were. That song was part of the soundtrack to our life. She then played some excerpts from the Bach Cello Suites leading up the beginning of the service.
I asked my son Patrick to read a poem before the religious part of the service started. It was one of Coleen’s favorites, “Celebrate the Journey,” and has such sentimental and emotional history for us. And I wanted Patrick to deliver the poem’s message in honor of his mom. The retiring pastor from our church, Mother Liza, then performed the brief Committal Service and our cellist played “Amazing Grace.”
As this was all happening, I stood in the middle of the crowd but with no one in particular. Although I had planned and orchestrated the event, at that time I was a participant, a grieving observer just like everyone else. I had intervals of tears all morning long and especially during the service and when I looked at Coleen’s portrait. At the same time, I had feelings of great joy and love. It was an awkward conflict of emotion but not unlike what I had expected.
As the service concluded and “Amazing Grace” was playing, I went to my daughter Lindsay and we hugged each other and cried briefly on each others shoulder. We both said “I love you,” and talked about how much Mom would have loved everything about the morning. I then found Shauna and Patrick and did the same then went to every guest and shared a hug and a tear or two. I don’t know about the protocol of that but I can say that it felt good for me and I imagine for them as well. Coleen’s parents were especially emotional and I think the service helped them with some closure.
I did not want the service to end sadly and neither would have Coleen. I arranged for the next song to be “Here Comes The Sun,” a favorite of our granddaughters, and I could not have made a more perfect choice. The sound of that music playing so brilliantly on a cello just seemed to alter everyone’s mood from overwhelming sadness to one of optimism and joy. The sun was shining, people mingling, spring in the air, renewal, replenish, rebirth. It just all seemed to suddenly make so much sense.
During the last days of this life, Coleen was asked by Lindsay and Samantha several questions including what her favorite song was. She answered “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” by Crowded House. That song closed the ceremony on another positive yet very reflective note. I was very happy to hear it and thought it a wonderful tribute to Coleen and the day. We all returned to our house for lunch, drinks and conversation before people started to depart and return to their own lives leaving the memories of Coleen for other times.
I stayed though. And later I returned to the cemetery and Coleen’s new gravesite. It looked different that afternoon as I’m sure it will most times I visit. The tent was gone, the urn had been placed in the ground along with the wreath of flowers and had been covered with the earth. The other flower arrangements were on top of where the hole had been dug and they looked magnificent in the glow of the afternoon sun. Before I left for home that morning, I gave the urn one last kiss and one last touch. I can’t do that anymore but I know where it is. Yesterday afternoon, I put my palm on the ground and could almost feel a flow of energy. I’m going to keep trying that.
April 21, 2014 will be a new date on my calendar. It will be the day that I did something very good for a lot of people. It will be a day that turned out exactly like I envisioned it to be. It will be a day of change, of closure, of renewal, of rebirth. I was worried that I waited too long to have Coleen’s burial. As it turns out, I waited just long enough. People had time to move past the mourning and grief of her loss and were able to find the joy and love that she created in her life and left behind as gifts to us all.
The weather today will be sunny and warm. It will be a perfect spring day. Spring is the time for renewal and rebirth and I notice that all around me as flowers are returning as are buds on branches of the bushes in front of my house. If all of the springtime symbolism holds true, today will be a reawakening for myself and my family. Not only will today be marvelous in its weather, it will also be cause for great celebration as we say our final goodbyes to Coleen.
I started that process again late last night before I went to bed. I was turning off the lights and paused over the urn in my dining room that holds her ashes. That of course, is the cause of my emotions as it will be buried today in the cemetery Coleen picked out. I have kept it with me since she passed away seven months ago but today I will return it to the earth where it now belongs. “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” That is spoken at many funeral services and I expect to hear it again today. I want to hear it again today. I want to be reminded, to be told that Coleen’s ashes belong as part of the earth where they can be everywhere at once. Where she can reach out to all of us regardless of our location.
Last night I knelt in front of Coleen’s urn and cried. I kissed it and touched it and placed my forehead on the coolness of the marble surface. My tears wet the urn and the Philodendron plant that sits atop it. I did not care about that though. I like the idea that my tears have stained the urn and when it returns today to the earth, it will return with my tears upon it. I cried because I am sad to see it go. The urn has comforted me all the days since Coleen died and part of me wants to keep it forever. I cried because today when I leave it behind, I will be saying my last goodbye.
That’s what I thought last night. This morning I feel a little differently. This morning I am energized more by the excitement of the day. My daughter Shauna touched me greatly yesterday with a gift. I have a little velvet pouch that holds a small amount of Coleen’s ashes and Shauna gave me a beautiful container to put it in. I am losing the urn but it is being replaced with something new that will provide me with the same feelings and thoughts. It’s not exactly the same but I like to think of it as a new replacement. Different look, same function. My daughter Lindsay sent me a text last night. In it was a photo of a label from a tea bag that said “Our head bows and our heart is filled with love and joy.” She was having a cup of tea and that message was on the tea bag. Lindsay took as a sign from her mom about how we would all be feeling today. I agree with her.
Yesterday was Easter, which as a dear friend reminded me, is a time of renewal and new beginnings. Today is the day after that and it promises to be filled with the joy and love the tea bag predicted. It will come with its share of tears too, as we remember the wonder of Coleen.
I received a whisper of my own yesterday. I had random music playing as I prepared dinner and I heard the song that Coleen said was her favorite just weeks before she died. It’s called “Don’t Dream
It’s Over.” And I never will. Today Coleen’s ashes will be committed to the earth but her memory and presence will never be over.