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.
I know I have written about this subject before but I don’t care. It is so important to me and my family that I am going to write about one last time … for now at least.
Lindsay is the one who first noticed it. She feels that her mom talks to her through music, especially when she is driving alone without her daughters. That is the time when Lindsay is least distracted and has the most awareness. One of the songs that Lindsay heard frequently was the Beatles classic “Here Comes the Sun,” written by George Harrison. Legend has it that Harrison wrote the song at Eric Clapton’s house after a harsh England winter and during some internal struggles with the business side of the music business. It was his optimistic plea for better days.
During the past year, I have heard that song more than any music. Admittedly, I have chosen to play it frequently but there have been many occasions when it has just presented itself almost at random, almost just barely noticeable in the background. Many of those times have been during family gatherings, others have been much more private listenings at opportune times. I know that our entire family has heard Here Comes the Sun” frequently and I believe passionately that it is not a coincidence. Strange as it might sound, I concur with Lindsay that hearing that song is in fact a message from Coleen.
So what’s the message? What part of the lyrics is so specific to our situation? To me, it’s all of it. There are really only three different lines to the entire song plus the chorus of “Here comes the sun and I say, it’s alright.” The lines, each preceded by “Little darling,” are “It’s been a long, dark, lonely winter,” “The smiles are returning to their faces,” and “I feel like ice is slowly melting.” And then each of those lines is followed by a variation of “It seems like years since it’s been here.” Pretty simple stuff for such a classic and legendary song. Here’s how I interpret those words and personalize them as a message to me:
The “long, lonely, winter” is Coleen’s death. The “smiles returning to their faces” is the healing process I am going through. I also think of my granddaughters when I hear this line as they have especially taken to this song which they refer to as “The Sun Song.” And of course “I feel that ice is slowly melting” is an extension of my getting better and moving on with my life. The Sun? That’s the newness, the hope for better days, the discovery that I have many discoveries to make. The sun is my optimism for strength, courage, relationship, and love. The sun is Coleen winking at me, telling me it’s getting better and it’s okay to move forward. The sun is also the newness rising in my life, people, places, endeavors.
The most recent time I heard HCTS was one week ago. Lindsay invited me for dinner and not just me, but she asked me to bring my friend Ruth with me. Ruth and I have been together all summer and although Lindsay and I have talked about her a few times, they had not met. Shortly after we arrived, I heard it. It was playing in the kitchen on the internet service “Songza” through a bluetooth speaker I had given her for a Christmas gift. I don’t know who else heard the song but I did. I smiled and took in the music and the words and the message. That interpretation had me thinking that truly, it can be alright.
Coleen has sent that song to me many times. I thought maybe it was time for me to send it back to her. A little bit modified, a little bit personalized. It’s sung to her, to my family, to myself, and to the new people in my life.
Coleen liked things simple. She was not one to insist on things being over the top or complicated. Words like glamorous, ornate, ostentatious and glitzy would never be used to describe her. She was quietly beautiful and had her own relaxed style, subdued, understated and easy. She dressed that way, decorated that way and lived her life that way.
I kept her style in mind through all of the events that occurred after her death. From the funeral service and luncheon that followed to the committal of her ashes to the ground several months later and all those milestone days in between, I always kept in mind how she would have wanted it. Through all of those events and days, I constantly made decisions by asking myself “What would Coleen do, what would she want?” I usually made pretty quick and solid decisions by answering those questions to myself. I’m not sure she would have agreed to everything I did but I feel that I got close enough that all in all, she would have been happy.
I delayed the final symbolic gesture of Coleen’s death until just recently. Because it took me almost six months to part with the urn that contained her ashes and have a ceremony where it was buried, I had not made arrangements for her gravestone marker. Shortly after the burial in April, I began the process for her stone. And of course, I had several choices to make about that. What size, what color, what should it say, should my name be on it too, where to buy it. I felt a little overwhelmed at times because, after all, this was going to be the final statement about Coleen. This was going to mark the spot where her ashes were buried and was going to be what people would see when they came to remember her. I wanted it to be special and I wanted it to be right.
This is another one of those places where I wish I could have talked to Coleen because she would have known exactly what to do. Instead I talked to other people and solicited their opinions. I asked my daughter, Coleen’s sister, my brother, some friends and of course the guy who owned the store I was buying the stone from. My best source was when I walked around the cemetery and looked at other stones. That is what convinced me to make the size, design, and wording decisions I did. There were two things I added to the standard design that make Coleen’s stone unique to her. I added the flower that she drew that day with our granddaughter, Samantha and I also added a biblical quote, “Let light perpetual shine upon them.” Coleen was all about light and it seemed fitting to include that on her marker. It took much longer to get the stone finished and delivered than the store initially promised. I was patient at first but got a little anxious after waiting months instead of weeks. I wanted it in place before the anniversary of her death which was fast approaching.
A few days ago I was on my way to an event but I stopped at the cemetery to see if Coleen’s stone had been delivered. The store owner had promised me it would be there that morning but I was still kind of skeptical. As I drove closer to her plot I saw that it did indeed look different and that the stone was there. Brand new and shiny, it looked beautiful and I knew Coleen would have liked it very much. I sent texts out to her parents, sister and our daughter announcing that her stone was finally in place and that they should come visit. My daughter brought her daughters later that day and told me that the stone was the prettiest one in the whole cemetery. The girls picked some dandelions and put them on the stone. I was away a few days but when I came back I went to see the stone again. It is beautiful. I traced the flower with my fingertip and held the palm of my other hand over her name like I was administering reiki to it and felt the warmth through the coolness of the stone. I have been to Coleen’s grave countless times since she was buried but never did I feel the emotion of that day. Not even when I was there on our wedding anniversary. I guess it was the wording and the dates and just seeing it carved in that stone for me to read. I guess it was that and the flower that brought it all together for me. Coleen was really gone and she was not coming back and that was final. Yes, I already knew all that but it was different. You know that saying people use when they mean something’s not definite? “It’s not carved in stone.” Well, Coleen’s name was carved in stone and it wasn’t going to change. You can call it closure, maybe. I think it is that and I think it will help her parents and family with their closures as well.
I left Coleen’s grave and stone that day with mixed feelings. Sad that the whole affair was necessary but happy with my efforts and the result. The stone was the final piece of my responsibility to Coleen and her family. When I selected and designed the stone, I thought of her style, her ways, her wishes. How could I best memorialize her in such a small space? I am certain she would be very pleased with her stone, it’s just her style.
