Sometime last December, I attended a bereavement seminar held by Hospice. The topic was how to handle grief and the holiday season at the same time. I didn’t count the people in the audience but I would estimate the attendance to have been around 50 or 60 people. Of those people, only four of us were men. I thought that was odd and when the seminar was over, I asked one of the facilitators about the ratio of men to women.
“Is it because men die first and don’t have a chance to attend things like this or is it that most men just don’t care to attend?” He said women are much more likely to reach out for help than men and that is why they are in the majority for things related to grief. Men just don’t handle their emotions and their grief very well.
I can attest to that. Besides the imbalance at that event, I have noticed a common thread with men in general. We are not good with things like death and dying. My father-in-law has not been the same since he lost his daughter. I can’t blame him for that. Nobody should lose a child. It is against everything that’s right and just. But what I do blame him for is not seeking out help so he can better cope with his grief. I don’t see him as much as I should but when I have, I try to talk to him about Coleen’s death. He seems very reluctant to talk about it to me and I wish he would because I know from experience how much it would help him to express his feelings and thoughts about his daughter. Not just about losing her, but about loving her.
Boys are no good at that. Nor are they any good at listening. Sometimes that’s what I need most. Someone to listen. A sounding board. They don’t have to understand everything I say or feel, just be willing to listen and hear me once in a while. Men like that are hard to find. I have friends and brothers and it’s hard to engage them in conversation related to my wife’s death. When I talk to them, which is fairly infrequent anyway, they seem uncomfortable hearing about my feelings and journey. It’s not like I need to talk incessantly about my loss, but once in a while I might slip in a reference or two to Coleen. That usually doesn’t lead to many follow up questions or comments. Contact with those guys is usually generated by me anyway. Like I said, boys do not excel in helping each other with grief.
Which is why I much prefer talking to girls. They get it. Girls have the emotion DNA that most boys are lacking. They are intuitive, sensitive and know how to cry. I have recently been accused of having an overabundance of female friends. It’s true. Most of the people I have become friendly with over the past six months are girls and there is a reason for that. I like them better than boys right now. The women in my life all listen to me when I talk. They ask how I’m doing and listen to my answer. They are interested in my interests and appreciate my talents. And they let me help them with some of their burdens. I can also listen to people and provide guidance and am much more likely to do that with women than men because men never open up enough to ask for help.
I am very comfortable having a lot of female friends. I get along well with most women and on the whole, I enjoy their company more than men. I have made new friends from new affiliations, from yoga, and from my support group. They are all women. I have also become quite friendly with a very special woman who was a friend of Coleen’s and I continue to meet new people from the places I keep putting myself in. What began as practitioner/client relationships with my massage and reiki therapists have both evolved into valued friendships. I can lean on many of these people for support and that doesn’t even include my daughters who almost have to listen to me. All the women in my life are important to me. When I have the need to be heard, I’d much rather be talking to girls.
Tomorrow is the six month anniversary of Coleen’s death. Tonight there is a full moon and it is in the zodiac sign of Libra which is also my sign. I don’t claim to know very much about astrology and zodiacs, especially when it comes to the moon being in one of them. But I thought there might be significance to the moon and Libra so I did a little research.
According to lunaf.com, “when the moon is in Libra, the desire for harmony, tact, justice, relationship with people, balance, impartiality, partnership increase. The moon in Libra stimulates our desire for harmony and balance. We begin to pay more attention to the people around us.”
That all sounds very Coleen to me. It also sounds like things I could use these days, especially the harmony and balance part. Regular readers here know of the relationship I have with the moon. It dates back to the night Coleen died when I came home to a brilliant, nearly full moon shining light upon me and my backyard. Since Coleen had such an affliction with light, always talking about how she was drawn to it, I took the moon’s presence that night as a signal from her that things would somehow be okay. I look for that comfort from the moon often, every time I see it. So I was very intrigued about tonight’s moon and what it’s positioning represents.
I will never forget the vision of Coleen looking out our bathroom window and taking in the beauty and the power of the stars and the moon. She would stand there and marvel at their light and then close her eyes and still somehow take in that same light without looking at it. Through another sense and her awareness she was able to receive that energy. She was also fond of standing before the window in our hallway or dining room when the sun was shining in to feel that light and warmth. Funny how I used to shake my head when she did that and now it makes perfect sense for her to have done that.
Today, on the eve of Coleen’s anniversary, I received a letter from the Breast Cancer Coalition of Rochester (BCCR). That is the organization that we asked people to donate to in Coleen’s honor in lieu of sending flowers. When Coleen and I were discussing matters during her last week or so, she told me she didn’t want flowers at her funeral. Instead she wanted donations to be made for metastatic breast cancer research. Specifically and only for that. Not to some pink ribbon waving charity to use as they wished, but to an organization that would direct those donations to Coleen’s cause. And that was to find a cure for the disease that took her so early. Neither of us knew at that time what organization that would be and after reaching out to the director of BCCR, I learned that they awarded annual grants to local recipients researching metastatic breast cancer.
The letter I received from BCCR today was an invitation to the press conference announcing and introducing this year’s grant recipients. I was invited because of the donations BCCR received on Coleen’s behalf that helped fund the two $50,000 grants. I am unbelievably touched by the invitation and honored to be able to attend. I cried when I read the letter and am still choked up every time I think about it. Coleen knew many people from this organization and I am so glad that we were able to help BCCR with their generosity to research. It is hard to find funding for that specific cause as most breast cancer donations for other national organizations are directed at awareness. Very little of those monies is targeted for metastatic research which is ironic since in most cases, breast cancer is not fatal until it metastasizes to other organs. Things need to change on that front and Coleen knew it which is why she was so specific in her request to me. I am very proud to be part of an occasion that speaks so perfectly of Coleen’s values and wishes.
(I’m going to return to the moon here briefly since I just went outside to check on it. I can report that it’s full, big, beautiful and bright. Radiant light and energy. Maybe the best moon I have ever seen.)
Tomorrow is the six month anniversary of Coleen’s death from metastatic breast cancer and I am reminded of things I have learned. I have met several people as a result of this website. One of those is a woman who I haven’t actually met but have exchanged several emails with. She lost her husband about three months before I lost my wife and she has faced many challenging days. She wrote to me about how hard it was when the six month anniversary came. She said it was the hardest day of all to that point. Another man I met through my support group observed the one year anniversary of his wife’s death this week. He was overcome with anxiety while talking about that last week. He is usually very accepting of his wife’s death and frequently mentioned that since she was in her eighties, her time had come. He was different though when he realized that there was a significant anniversary involved.
I can not imagine how will be on the one year anniversary. Just like I couldn’t imagine six months ago what life would look like today. How could I have possibly predicted all the life changes that have occurred? Nobody could have done that.
I got up early this morning while it was still dark. It is now March 18, the six month anniversary of me being without Coleen. I went to the bathroom window and looked at the moon. The sky was clear and dark, the moon was big, bright and beautiful. I wondered if I was looking for her or looking for answers. I think I might have gotten some kind of answer later on when the reiki appointment I was so looking forward to was cancelled. I thought having reiki on the six month anniversary day would be special but it was not to be. If I truly believe that there are still no coincidences, then I must take the good with the bad. I’m not sure if I should interpret the reiki cancellation as protection or punishment but I can’t help but think of it as some kind of sign.
They say that when the moon is in Libra, it is not a good time to make big decisions. That it is a better time for harmony, balance, justice and relationships than for decisions. That is perfect for me as I now have nothing to decide. And I am now in balance.
I am quickly approaching the six-month anniversary of Coleen’s death. In fact, it will be upon me in three short days. That will mean I have lived one half of a year without her. One half of a year as a widower. I remember back to the first few days of life after her and how hectic everything was. And I remember all the days between then and now and think about how far I have come in that time. It is remarkable. I am remarkable. I have many more steps to take, many lessons yet to learn. I thought this might be a good time for reflections of my journey. Maybe like some random thoughts I have about things at this point.
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The bereavement books, articles, and counselors tell you all about how you are feeling or how you will feel as a person surviving their spouse. They tell you all about the canned symptoms you will experience as you attempt to forget the life of your loved one. Your one and only. Maybe even your soul mate. They all talk about grief coming in stages like denial, guilt, depression, anger, and finally acceptance.
In my personal world of dealing with death, I have certainly encountered all of those factors and stages of grief. I can’t say in what order they came and sometimes they presented all at once or a couple at a time. They have all appeared with different degrees of difficulty but they have all been difficult. And continue to be. And I expect that will never go away.
Two nights ago I awoke suddenly from a sound sleep. It was sometime around 2:00 AM and I had a sickening thought in my head. I am never going to see Coleen again. I was very disturbed by that for not only was it a terrible admission to make, but I want to be passed that stage of grief. I don’t want to have to think the thoughts again that I have already come to terms with. Or at least thought that I had come to terms with. I’m not sure which one of the grief stages that fell into, but to me it fit at least three of them
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In many ways, I have tried to keep Coleen’s life alive. By talking about her, writing about her, thinking about her, This website started as a memorial, a tribute to her and our life together. My intent had always been to segue those memories into the story of my healing and my discoveries and my life after her death. I believe that is gradually happening although the process still frequently requires visits to the past.
One of the biggest hurdles for me to overcome has been enabling myself to let go of the idea that it is my responsibility to eternalize her. I do not want her forgotten. I do not wish for her legacy and accomplishments to get lost. I will always keep her memory alive with my children and grandchildren and perhaps some of that message will survive another generation or two. But in whatever is left of my life, I still have time for more living. The last thing Coleen would want from me would be to settle into a world of remorse and sorrow. She would not want this house to be made into a shrine. She would want to be remembered but not mourned.
Today in my bereavement support group, we talked about the legacy of our deceased spouse. Coleen’s legacy will live on in the hearts, values and memories of her children and grandchildren. And hopefully, great-grandchildren and generations after that. Her legacy will survive in the people she touched and helped in her various roles of aunt, sister, friend and social worker. Coleen probably won’t have a plaque hanging or statute standing in a park somewhere, but the impact of her life will be felt, and hopefully passed on, by many people. She did a lot of good in her time and helped many people in many ways. For that, she made the world a little better place.
My friend Barb pointed out to me yesterday that I was creating a legacy of sorts for my children and grandchildren by creating this website. She thought my writings and memories would be precious and interesting to generations to come. After all, how many people get to read about how much their grandfather loved their grandmother? I liked her take on that and frankly, had never thought of this little project of mine in that way. I hope what she says proves to be true. Many of my thoughts now are formulated from the perspective of a patriarch overseeing his family. Aware of their feelings, maybe even a little protective of them.
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Once I solve the equation that asks me to find the balance between the memories and the future, I will have found my peace. For that remains my greatest challenge. I want to keep Coleen alive in some way. I loved the life we had together. We have already said goodbye but I still can’t believe it’s over. As wonderful as I remember that life being, I must move on from those memories, especially the ones of losing her, and keep myself in a different place where I can make new memories. In many ways I have done that and continue to make more strides. But sometimes it’s as if I feel guilty getting too far away from the old memories for fear I might lose them.
Sometimes I think that six months is not long enough. That I haven’t grieved long enough to move on, that I’m being disrespectful to her memory and being insensitive to my children. But it seems like so much longer than six months. There have been many changes in my life and in myself during that time and I am encouraged to make new memories. Actually, I already have and none of them hurt and none of them made me forget about the old memories. It’s all about finding a balance.
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One week ago, we celebrated Coleen’s life on her birthday. Today, we are together as family once again to celebrate the third birthday of our granddaughter, Claire. This is another difficult day because it’s an occasion that Coleen should be attending but will be noticeably absent for. Claire won’t notice but I will. Three days from now will be the six month anniversary of Coleen’s death and that will obviously be a very difficult day. I don’t know what to do that day although I do have a reiki treatment in the morning and a meeting to attend in the evening. Those will help me be occupied but there will also be a lot of time in between. So far, the first half of March has brought many challenges. Spring is only four days away, though. That means a new season of rebirth, new growth, warmth and flowers. I am ready for all that. Here comes the sun. I am remarkable.
Back a few posts ago, I gave birth to the idea of combining a quote from Abe Lincoln with a sketch Coleen made of a flower. I decided that the sketch she drew was of the exact same flower Abe referred to in his quote and thought it should be immortalized. I don’t know that I have done that, but here is what I did do.
The internet is full of companies with websites selling their products and services. Regardless of what you want or need, it can be found with a simple Google search. I wondered about having lapel pins made. Specifically, lapel pins of the flower sketch. It
didn’t take long to find several websites that could provide this service. I chose one, sent a photo of the flower pin and received a proof of the proposed design within a few hours. It was good but I didn’t like some of the coloring and asked for a revision. I had that the next day along with a price quote and after I supplied my credit card info, an order was placed for 100 flower pins. No tax, no shipping charges, made in China.
They arrived two days ago via UPS and I could not be happier. I want people to have them like they have the breast cancer pink ribbon. I want to give a pin to everyone in the family. I want to hand them out at the “Strategies on Hopeful Living” conference being held in Coleen’s memory. I want her friends to all have one. And her granddaughters.
To me, the pin represents the story of a woman’s fight against breast cancer. It represents every ounce of courage and hope that became that fight. It speaks to me about a love of family and a wish to make all things somehow, alright. And it says that there is more to be done, more story to be heard. It is a flower planted so others can see the beauty of life, and treasure it and fight their own battles for every precious second. It’s more than a drawing Coleen did one day. It’s a symbol of her life. It’s the flower planted where they thought a flower would grow. Her and Abe.
Ever since I discovered Coleen’s drawing, I knew I was on to something. It wasn’t until I saw it as a lapel pin that I realized it meant more than a symbol of Coleen’s spirit. The flower also represents the journey I have embarked on as my own kind of breast cancer survivor. It reaches out to me with encouragement to replenish my life and recreate myself. And it reaches out not just to me, but to all surviving spouses suddenly finding their way alone instead of with their partner. What better symbol for new seasons and new beginnings than a beautiful flower with fuchsia trimmed petals? Rising anew from the dormancy of winter to grow fresh and strong.
Someone a long time ago decided that a pink ribbon should be the logo that would forever represent breast cancer. I don’t know what will become of the flower but I do know that it is much prettier than a pink ribbon. And it is much more pure and untarnished. And it is more genuine and heartfelt and meaningful and original. It was drawn by a woman who knew she was dying from metastatic breast cancer. It was her message of hope to the rest of us, to her family and friends and sisters in survival whom she was leaving behind. If she could plant a flower, this would be the one she would plant. I like to think she left it here as her way of telling us to keep planting flowers where we think they might grow.
There is a difference between a birthday party and a celebration of life and I tried to define that difference last weekend on Coleen’s first posthumous birthday. It didn’t seem proper to have a birthday party. Candles, gifts, cards, and “Happy Birthday to You” were not what I had in mind when I invited a small gathering of family for dinner, drinks, and kinship. I wanted to celebrate Coleen’s life and acknowledge her birthday. I thought I had a good plan.
This was one of the big days in my recovery. Her first birthday after her death. The first time she wasn’t a part of March 8th since 1959. I thought I would be able to cope with the day the same way I had with Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve and Valentine’s Day. Those were the predecessors in heartbreak to this day. I was wrong, though. Coleen’s birthday was a little different from those other days, a little more personal. It was, after all, her day not a national holiday celebrated by the whole country. March 8th belonged to her and to us and our family.
Emotionally, I started early that day. After a rather stressful night before, I awoke feeling sad and lethargic. I struggled through some coffee, cleaning and preparations and thought about the significance of the day the entire time. It wasn’t until I did almost an hour of yoga that I got myself into a better frame of mind and felt like I was functioning a little closer to normal. I was nervous a quite anxious about dinner and having company. I had hosted many occasions buy almost all as the husband to Coleen’s hostessing and this was my first time out as a widower host. Never mind the emotions I already had about the day itself. My guests were to arrive at 4:00 and I was putting together two pans of my famous lasagna. I like making that for a crowd because it tasted good and I am very good at making it. The recipe is pretty simple but there are enough steps and ingredients involved to keep the mind busy. Which is what I wanted. Believe it or not, I had some random music playing as I was cooking. When I say random I mean that I did not select it and I don’t know what I will be hearing next. The song I heard next made me cry. It was Bonnie Raitt singing “Baby Mine,” a song from the Dumbo movie. I hadn’t heard that song in many years but it was a favorite of Coleen’s. It didn’t matter to me that the song was intended for the comfort of a baby elephant. It mattered that it was a memory and the lyrics said. “Baby mine don’t you cry, Baby mine dry your eyes, Rest your head close to my heart, Never to part, Baby of mine.”
Lindsay was the first to arrive with Mike and the girls. She brought the one thing I had forgotten to buy, fresh flowers with a sunflower mixed in. Coleen’s family arrived shortly thereafter with various amounts of confusion and clamor. For the most part, everyone acted like it was just another get together, which of course it wasn’t. One of Coleen’s sisters brought two balloons filled with helium. The idea was for the granddaughters to take them outside and let them go and watch them float up to heaven for Grandma. The balloons were passed around first so that we could all write a message to Coleen. I didn’t write any words. Instead I drew a heart and wrote “RJ + CJ” inside it. I thought that was better than words and sometimes I’m not very good at writing what I feel. (LOL)
We all went outside to watch the girls release the balloons and just before they did, we sang Happy Birthday. I didn’t like that part so much. It was never supposed to be a birthday party. Just a family helping each other through a difficult loss, a difficult day, and a lot of good memories. Later, after dinner, we had cake and ice cream. There were no candles and no singing for that. I thought one version of Happy Birthday was too many and certainly saw no need to sing it twice.
Just before we sat down to eat, I got everyone together in the kitchen and said a few words about Coleen. There were some tears from everyone as I recounted the tale of finding the Abe Lincoln quote on her nightstand and then when I read Abe’s quote about the thistle and the flower aloud. I got through that alright having to pause only once for composure. We toasted her life and love then did what she would have wanted us to do: Eat.
Dinner was excellent and the day went well. Lindsay, Karen and I were the most touched by everything and it was nice to be able to support each other. By the time everyone left, I was very tired and ready to lie down. But I also didn’t want the day to end just yet so I poured a glass of scotch and sat in the living room alone. I had a few more memories to acknowledge and a few more songs to hear before saying goodnight.
