I guess you might say that things have settled down for me lately. We are late in a February that has provided more than a normal amount of winter and patience is running thin for most people. I haven’t had any epiphany like discoveries in a few weeks but still, little things have a way of presenting themselves from time to time.
I was at a yoga class today where the instructor talked repeatedly of opening up the heart to let things penetrate there. She kept referring to having an open, radiant heart. In just about every pose and posture we did, she spoke of the heart chakra and how we needed to direct our breath to it and expand our chest to expose ourselves to the love and light from our hearts. While she was saying these things, I was trying out some of my new meditation lessons and focusing my closed eyes on a tiny white light that seemed to be right between my eyebrows. It was frequently surrounded by fuchsia colored clouds. After class ended, one of the women in the class approached me and introduced herself. We chatted briefly before I mentioned that my wife had been a regular there until she got sick and that she passed away. I mentioned how lucky I thought I was to have supports like yoga, reiki and massage to help me. Then out of nowhere, she said to me, “I get the feeling you’re up to something. That you are going to do something that will be very special to a lot of people. You’re going to help people somehow.” I liked her opinion on that topic.
I also liked last week when attending a different yoga class, the instructor walked in carrying a book. That is not unusual but what caught my eye was the book itself. It was “One Soul” which is the same book of poetry that Coleen had constantly at her bedside and the one that contained her favorite poem, “Celebrate the Journey.” As the class ended that day, I saw the instructor open the book to read from it. I don’t know what I would have done if she had read the Celebrate poem. Probably cried a little right there on the mat. She didn’t though and I was glad. Instead she read a different poem, one I had not read. It was also beautiful and I appreciated hearing something new.
Speaking of “one Soul,” last week I sent an email to the author of that book, Danna Faulds. I thanked her for writing it and told her what an inspiration her poetry had been to Coleen. I also shared with her the story of me finding her poem “Celebrate the Journey” turned into a piece of art and hidden in my closet. Danna thanked me for writing and sharing my Coleen stories with her. She was very appreciative to know that her work had helped someone like Coleen. She said she never knows where her poetry might show up or how it is received by people unless she hears stories like mine. I was very glad I contacted her.
Three days ago, I was my daughter Lindsay’s house for a family gathering and dinner. We were all in the kitchen and one of the internet music stations was playing in the background. The second song that played was the Beatles “Here Comes the Sun.” Since Coleen’s death, that song has shown up frequently when the family gathers. It is also one of the favorite songs of my granddaughters Samantha and Claire and they sing it whether it’s on the radio or not. We all kind of think of that song as a message from Coleen, you know. It’s got lots of sunlight and all sorts of references to new starts and “smiles returning to the faces.” We never seem to know when it might pop up but it always seems to surprise us.
This has been a long, cold, lonely winter and it’s not over yet. But it’s not too early to think that ice is slowly melting. Little Darling, seems like years since it’s been clear.
I woke up this morning and had an immediate thought. Usually I slowly enter into coherent thoughts after waking up but this morning I had one shortly after opening my eyes. It was the date. February 19, 2014. That meant yesterday was February 18, 2014 which was exactly five months since Coleen’s death. And I went through the entire day without acknowledging it. I can’t believe that happened.
Coleen’s memory was all over yesterday and I thought about her and talked about her far more than I did on most days. I was with Maureen for a massage and we always talk about Coleen. Sometimes, we even feel her presence there with us and that room is a very special place for things like that. I also talked to my daughter Shauna on the phone last evening for quite a while and we spoke of Coleen repeatedly. We even talked about a conference being held in her honor and designing a logo out of the flower Coleen drew that I am using on this website and other places. Shauna did not mention the significance of the date. I wonder if she was waiting for me to say something first or if the date slipped her mind, too? I almost hope she forgot because then I wouldn’t feel quite so bad.
I exposed my writings and this website to someone new last night and talked to them after they read it. We talked all about the life that Coleen and I shared and how special she was and will always be to me. I also went back and read several of those articles myself and got wrapped up in the feeling and emotion of many of them. But through all of those things, I never realized that yesterday was the 18th.
For anyone who has read me here, you know how emotional I have been every 18th of the month. That day has been like a time bomb to me. The only thing worse than that is when the moon is full, or near full on that date. I admit that since retirement, I frequently lose track of the date because I simply don’t need to know it like I used to. That’s why I put any appointment or event into the calender of my iPhone and set a reminder. I didn’t think I needed to that for Coleen’s date of death, but I’m doing it now. I don’t want that to happen again. Or do I?
I have to wonder what it means that I forget the 18th. Is it a sign of progress in my healing that I didn’t fret and get all emotional about yesterday? I spent a lot of time with my memories of Coleen and remembered her fondly with several people. All without being consumed by tears and sorrow. Or does it mean that I am busying myself enough that I am letting go a little bit more than I thought I was? I don’t know. Either way, I don’t particularly like that I didn’t remember and I don’t intend for that to happen again. The perfect day would have been everything I did plus actually remembering it was the 18th. I might be getting better and I might be letting go, but an anniversary is an anniversary. Girls don’t like it when guys forget anniversaries.
I have reached the point in my new life that I think I’m ready for female companionship. Maybe even have a girlfriend. Some might be surprised by that admission, others might be relieved. I myself am confused and somewhat torn by these feelings and the daily conflict I face between letting go and hanging on.
Coleen and I had a wonderful relationship for 33 years. We were madly in love and shared a life that others would be envious of. Now, I am envious of that life and jealous that I don’t have it anymore. Coleen knew I would feel that way and that is one of the reasons she instructed me to find someone after her. By telling me that, she was relieving me of the guilt I would foster in myself by taking that course. She was giving me her permission to let go.
I wondered when the timing would be right for me to put myself in play and actively seek out another woman. I admit to thinking about becoming active for a while, a couple of months at least, but always questioned if I was being too quick in looking for love after Coleen. I felt guilt about doing something that I would have done with her if she hadn’t died. But she did die and that’s the conundrum I faced and still face. I must let go in order to move on.
And what of the woman I find and invite into my life? How fair is of me to ask her to understand me at this particular place in my time? She meets me as a single man slowly recovering from the loss of his beloved wife. I think I am in the right condition to begin a new relationship, maybe even a romance. Yet I know that I am still hanging on to Coleen in different ways. And although my house is slowly becoming my home, it still has much of Coleen and the 27 years of her life here to overlook. It wouldn’t bother me so much to enter a woman’s house after her husband died, but girls are different and I know that would be an issue for most of them. I have been told by a friend that I might want to look for a different house because no woman will ever be completely comfortable where I live. Or how about the rings I wear on a chain around my neck? Coleen’s engagement ring and wedding ring have been dangling around my neck, flirting with my heart since about a week after she died. I don’t ever want to take them off. But what should I expect a new girl to think when I take my shirt off someday and display those rings? How is that supposed to make her feel?
Sometimes, I think I would be better off if I met a woman who had lost her husband. Since I became a widower, I have felt that losing a spouse is the worst kind of loss. There is just nobody in your life that you share the things with that you share with your spouse. All your emotions, troubles, worries, joys and intimacies are placed in the trusts of each other until death do you part. And then what happens after death parts you? A sorrow and vacancy overwhelms us and we want to do what we have always done and that is turn to our spouse for comfort. Only we can’t. A victim of the same pain, a fellow survivor would be able to best understand what my dilemmas are. We would be well equipped to comfort each other, share our loss and our healing. I would not be asking as much of her as I would be asking of an otherwise single woman.
During the past few months, I have developed several activities that not only keep me busy but interest me immensely. I am on a board of directors for a new nonprofit, do a lot of writing here, take yoga classes, get reiki and massage therapies, attend a support group, and have contributed time to my church and some cancer organizations. I am very inspired by these interests and plan on not just continuing them but to also expand them. I want to become more involved in helping people understand loss and their healing and find ways to develop new projects, market and grow the nonprofit, advocate for breast cancer concerns. Of course, most of these interests and inspirations were born as a result of losing Coleen. I would argue that although inspired by her, my participation comes from my enjoyment and ability to bring special talents and skills to those projects. A new girl in my life might think otherwise. She might see my interests as a another way of me holding on instead of letting go.
Some people have already expressed discomfort with the idea of me being together with someone other that Coleen. We were not the perfect couple but we got along well and had a lot of fun together. We presented well and made people very happy and comfortable around us. Coleen and I had many diverse interests and explored those individually but we did so many things as a couple. We were Coleen and Rob to almost everyone. In my new life I am just Rob and that is hard enough for people to accept. It is already a harsh and constant reminder that Coleen is gone. Imagine the uneasiness I will cause when I introduce my “friend” to them. They all know it’s coming but nobody wants to see that.
How fair is it for me to ask a woman into my life and she has that issue to deal with? How comfortable will she be in that situation when I introduce her to my daughters or son or friends or sister-in-law? Or if I am with her and run into one of Coleen’s friends or someone we knew as a couple? I envision that scenario as being not only inevitable, but extremely awkward and uncomfortable for everyone involved. Am I being fair to ask a girl to enter my life and be put in such stressful situations? How about the old friend? She would be troubled seeing me someone other that Coleen. And I would feel bad about being the catalyst for all this discomfort.
Ultimately, I guess it’s going to come down to me being comfortable with myself, my situation and my new friend. Once I am that, I can share or pass that comfort on to everyone else. I don’t want to fall in love right now. It’s too early for me to do that and I am too selfish with my time and interests. But I would like to be able to spend time with a new girl, get to know each other, do some dating and see what happens. I know I have a lot of luggage with me that I have to deal with and that she will have to deal with and I’m worried about how fair all that is for her. I worry about how I will affect my family and friends by being with another girl. I worry about how I will react when I start getting closer to her, when I feel myself slipping away from my past and reaching out for newness. I want to let go but a part of me wants to hang on, too. I never wanted to think about love without Coleen, let alone love after her.
I was walking past the greeting card aisle at the grocery store last week and I wanted to buy you a card. Like I have done every year for the past 33 years in a row. I never liked buying cards very much, especially if the card wasn’t for you. And even when it was for you, birthday cards and anniversary cards were never as much fun as asking you to be my Valentine.
I remember the first Valentine’s Day we were together. It was 1981 just about a month before we took that historic trip to New York City where I surprised both of us by proposing. I wanted to do something special that year and came up with two pretty good ideas. I bought a box of those silly valentines that little kids give to each other at school. I picked out ten or so of the best ones and mailed them to your house. Each on in its own separate envelope. So you got a pile of silly valentines in the mail and you thought that was funny. Your parents thought it was weird, but they thought that about me anyway. I also went to a bookstore in search of something memorable and a little more romantic than that. I found the perfect Valentine’s Day gift. It was a little red book titled “With Love From …” that contained lip prints of famous people along with their signatures. The book was virtually page after page of kisses. You loved it. I found it months ago in the bottom bookshelves in the dining room, dusted it off and put it in much more prominent position among other treasures. Right now it is sitting next to me and I am reading what I wrote in the book before I gave to you.
To the girl whose lips make this book so appropriate … from the guy who’s so glad he met them … 14Feb81
You know, Valentine’s Day was always a big deal to me. I loved picking out just the right card for you and would spend quite a bit of time finding the perfect one. One year I couldn’t decide between two cards so I bought them both. I was always looking for just the right combination of romance, sex and humor. Although I admit that some years I went strictly for romance. Valentine’s Day was the perfect day to tell you about love and how much of it I had for you. It was also the perfect day for me to add to your lingerie collection which I recall doing more than once. I loved our romance, it really never ended until …
I was cleaning our closet a couple of days ago and found more gifts from V Days past, both books. You always liked books and as much as I would have liked to, I couldn’t buy you lingerie for every holiday. In 1997, I bought you a little book called “Love Letters” which is all romantic correspondence from famous people. I’m not sure how much of this you read but it doesn’t look very worn. More interesting than the content, at least to me right now, is what I wrote inside the back cover. A verse of poetry. Remember that I used to do that sometimes? You never thought it was very good, you were probably right. But once in a while I would hit on some words that seemed right together. In this case, I thought I described part of you pretty well:
She’s gathering information
On a subject strange to me
She’s got magazines and printouts
And her curiosity
She’s got lights on in the bedroom
Informercials on TV
A book of coupons in her car
And a brand new recipe
Alright, maybe not the most romantic prose ever written. It got better though, in 1999 when I gave to you another book, this one titled “The 50 Most Romantic Things Ever Done.” It was supposed to be fifty romantic stories in one small book except I altered it. I typed an additional story, the 51st, and pasted it to the last pages of the book. That story was of you and I getting engaged in New York on your birthday in 1981. I always liked that story.
I know there are a lot of Valentine’s Day cards hidden in the drawers of our bedroom. I had a special place where I kept your cards to me and I think you have some in your top drawer also. I never threw any of those cards away and I never will. I have to ask you something though. Is it okay if I don’t read those cards this year? Can I just leave them where they are for maybe another year at least? I want so to see them again, read what we wrote to each other on the days we celebrated our love. I just don’t think I can do it this year. I hope that’s okay and you understand. I’m doing better but I know I’m still too wounded and fragile right now. Can I save them for next year?
They say the holidays are the hardest. We got through those and they weren’t as bad as I thought. But the next three, starting with tomorrow, are going to hurt a lot. Valentine’s Day, your birthday and our anniversary are all wonderful days, some of my favorites. But I’m going to need a lot of help with them. Valentine’s Day was always special with you, in some ways maybe the most special. I’m just going to celebrate that one for now. I’m not sure how you will celebrate with me, but I hope you find a way.
Yesterday I heard a story about a mom, a dad and a little girl and I thought others should hear it too. It’s a story about cancer and courage and perseverance.
Eight years ago the mom, Heather, was diagnosed with mesothelioma which is a rare cancer that kills most people within 2 years of diagnosis. Heather was 36 and had just given birth to the little girl, Lily and was only given 15 months to live. Heather had successful surgery that included removal of her lung and on February 2, she, Lily and Cameron, the dad, celebrated her eighth cancer free year.
This family celebrates with something they invented and call “LungLeavin’ Day.” Every year on the anniversary of Heather’s surgery, they gather around a fire in their backyard along with friends and family. Everyone there writes their biggest fears on a plate and then they take turns smashing those plates into the fire. They started LungLeavin’ Day as a celebration of life and a way to confront their fears but have now turned it into a fundraiser for mesothelioma awareness. This past year over 75 people attended and they raised more than $4500.00 for the cause.
I love to hear stories about people who have beaten their disease and their diagnosis. I have such admiration for the courage and strength they display and the inspiration they create for others. The Von St. James family has setup an interactive webpage that tells the story of their battle with cancer and of LungLeavin’ Day. It is very well done and you should all take a look at it. Cameron also has a blog of his own where he posts about being a dad, husband and caregiver.
Congratulations to Heather, Cameron and Lily and to all cancer survivors and families. Let’s make more of them!