This morning I was at my daughter’s house to watch my beautiful granddaughters for a few hours. I love having time alone with those two even if they can be challenging. I was looking forward to seeing them this morning as it was the first time I have visited there since Christmas when I gave them a puppet theater and some puppets as a gift. I am very proud of that gift because it inspires make-believe and creativity in them and because it’s something we can all play together. After all, who doesn’t like make-believe and creativity.
I am a replacement babysitter for the girls. A substitute. Coleen used to watch them on Friday mornings so Lindsay could go to work. Coleen always liked going there and it was good therapy for her. Those granddaughters, “The Girls” as they are usually referred to, were very special to her and she was a wonderful grandmother. It was a perfect role for her. When she went there, she spent most of her time reading to them or playing games. I’m sure she did a lot of teaching and telling stories. I know that her visits were food related because almost everything Coleen did had a food element to it. She was on and off different diets and would usually take food from home with her wherever she went. When she saw the girls she brought extra so she could share with them. Those girls are always hungry.
Coleen’s maternal grandmother was named Kitty and she was quite a character. Coleen had a very strong bond with her. Kitty liked to gamble and play board games and tell stories to the kids. She was around a lot for the holidays and family parties and sometimes we would just have her over for dinner. Coleen would just decide and ask me to pick her grandmother up on my home from work. I never met her paternal grandmother, Rose, but Coleen would often reminisce about visiting with her as a child and spending quite a bit of time with her. They read, cooked and talked together. Coleen always had a very, very strong sense of family and her grandmothers played important roles in her life.
She carried on that tradition with the girls. Everything she learned from her own relationships was transferred to her new role. Plus much more. Coleen was very loving and affectionate with her granddaughters. She didn’t get that from Kitty or Rose. That was something different she brought to that role. She was a wonderful grandmother and would have gotten better with age. I’m certain of that. I have stated before that the single thing that gets me the most riled and pissed about Coleen’s death is that those girls got robbed of her as a grandmother and will never experience that magic Coleen would have spun on them. And not only does that make me angry, but it makes me very sad. It’s one of the things that causes the most emotion in me. It always has. I was surprised a few days ago when at my Hospice bereavement session with my counselor Lynn, she got me to admit that to her. I started talking about the relationships death stole from Coleen and those innocent girls. I wasn’t surprised that Lynn got me to open up about it. I was surprised that I didn’t cry. Don’t get me wrong, I felt like it and my chin quivered and my eyes watered. Lynn could see the emotion I felt without having to see the tears. She knew what I was feeling and what I was saying.
I know that I am trying to make it up to the girls for Coleen’s absence. I can’t replace her and I can’t be her, but maybe I can keep her fresh in their minds and talk about how much she loved them. It’s part of my role as grandpa to them. And today when I was there, I did some things that may not have reminded them of Grandma, but certainly reminded me of her. Like when Claire crawled into my lap with her blanket and a book and I read to her. I saw Coleen right there with us smiling. And when I peeled an orange for Claire just like Coleen used to do for her when she came over. And when I patiently watched Samantha make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich by herself, I could picture Coleen there instead of me, gently assisting without Samantha even knowing she was being helped.
Coleen was with us for a while this morning. I felt her strongly early on, shortly after I arrived. Probably making sure I was there on time and the girls had plenty to eat and were behaving for us.
Oh, Baby. Everything was backwards here tonight. It was New Years Eve, you know, and I was with our friends just like we have been for the past few years. Only this time we met at Bob and Mary’s house instead of Bob and Laura’s. Only this time, you weren’t there.
We had fun talking, eating, drinking and playing darts. The Spanglers were in pajamas which was kind of funny. We celebrated the New Year with some champagne I brought. It was Great Western Brut just like you and I used to drink in the old days.
It’s hard for me to go to parties now. Not that I have been to that many. But when I go somewhere alone that you and me always went to, it is very hard for me. I try to be brave like Samantha does when she sees Santa Claus. I try to take a lesson from her.
It’s hard for me to go to parties without you because you were always the best part of the party for me. It didn’t matter where the party was or what it was for or who else was there. I always knew that if we were there together, it would be fun. We might wander off separately to different people and conversations or different rooms. But we always found each other. We were always close at hand. And when it was time to leave, we just knew. We sensed it in each other. Sometimes I would give you my little signal where I would stick out my pointer finger and rotate my wrist in a circle to say silently “let’s go.” You always smiled at that and were ready to leave anyway. I always loved to make you smile.
I felt a little awkward tonight sometimes. Being alone with couples, couples that we were a part of. I think it was awkward for our friends at first, too. Bob and Mary hadn’t seen me since September and probably weren’t sure what to expect. I could have been a drunk or else lost in sadness and emotion. As you would expect, I was none of that and the evening went well with friendship and laughter. Don’t get the idea that you weren’t mentioned a lot though, because you were. I even got to tell the story of how you and I met and courted and got engaged. I love that story and am getting better and better at telling it. We toasted you at midnight and missed you the rest of the time. Everyone misses you. Everyone.
I came home from New Years Eve alone for the first time in 33 years. I have been doing a lot of things for the first time in 33 years. I was tired and went to bed, just like we always did. And I got up the next morning to start the new year. Alone. Not like we always did. I remember sometimes when I made you mad and we made up and sometimes you would hold me and say “What am I going to do with you?” I always felt better when you said that. It made me feel safe and protected and loved.
Say it now, please. Hold me, ask me, “What am I going to do with you?.”
At the Hospice seminar I attended a few weeks ago, they talked about how to cope with grief and the holidays. One of the recurring themes mentioned was to “make new memories.” The concept was not to just lock on to all the memories of the past, all the memories you could no longer relive with the person you made them with. But to move forward with new times and new experiences. Move forward with new memories.
Christmas ended up being like that. I don’t think it was a conscious effort by me or anybody else. It just turned out that way. I didn’t walk around trying to make new memories or looking for some around every corner. They just kind of happened on their own. Just like they would have done if Coleen wasn’t missing from them. Just like if she was there beside us making them with us. Which of course, I think she was.
Coleen was the centerpiece of Christmas this year, even in her absence. I was talking to a friend named Judy who lost her sister in 2012. This was Judy’s second Christmas without her sister and she commented “We felt her presence just as strongly as we felt her absence.” I would say that pretty much sums up the general feeling at our Christmas Day family gathering. We all got together just like we always did and just like we would have done if Coleen was with us. Some of us shifted our roles to fill some of the void created by Coleen’s absence. She was always very active in organizing and orchestrating days like these and although she was irreplaceable, we had to find ways to replace her. Lindsay took charge of the menu and delegated food assignments so that everyone brought something. Karen seemed even more social than normal which was something Coleen excelled at. She was also very attentive to Samantha and Claire and seemed to be a little bit more than just Aunt Karen to them that day. I also tried to more social, more of a greeter, working the room and trying to talk to everyone as much as possible. We all felt Coleen’s absence but nobody said it very loudly.
I felt her presence, though. Christmas is a day Coleen belongs in and as far as I’m concerned, will always be part of. It’s a day custom-made for her. With all the giving and family, food and love. And of course the memories. I felt her very strongly today, especially through our granddaughters. They were very busy opening gifts and playing with new toys and games. They were also very social with so many people around paying attention to them. Every time I looked at them, which was often, I thought about their Grandma and her absence and her presence. I could see her in their eyes, sparkling with wonderment. I could hear her in their laughs and picture her sitting on the floor with them reading one of their new books. Making new memories.
Lindsay made each girl a memory book with photos of them with their Grandma Coleen. I know it was hard for her to do but they came out beautifully. Karen helped the girls unwrap the books and read them aloud. I stood behind her with a quivering chin. Pretty soon Coleen’s dad was looking over Karen’s shoulder to see inside. And Lindsay was gathered around. too. It was one of those happy moments that made everyone cry. Looking back at such beautiful moments and looking ahead to when the girls look at them later. It was impossible not to feel Coleen’s presence then. And her absence.
All told, I think the family had a good Christmas Day. Not great, but good. I did, too. I was with family all day and I know that helped me. Too much alone time would not have been good. I was at church Christmas Eve then spent the night at Lindsay’s house where I experienced the girls and Santa Claus. I picked up Patrick at the airport Christmas morning and came home. I resurrected an old Betty Crocker augratin potato recipe modified by my mom that I used to make for family gatherings. Then it was back to Lindsay’s for the Christmas Day party. With Patrick in town and Shauna and Al visiting over the weekend, I have not been alone in several days. I think I am ready for a little bit of that.
This Christmas I put an old ornament on a new tree. I made an old recipe for people who had never tasted it. I drove a new car to familiar places. I gave my granddaughters a puppet theater and puppets so we can play with them when I come over. I received beautiful texts from two wonderful new friends. I opened precious gifts from my children. I lived the miracle of Christmas through the eyes of my granddaughters. I watched people celebrating with such sadness. I was without Coleen for the first time in 33 years. I’m not sure how many of those will become memories. Maybe they already have. After all, You never really know when you’re making one.
Sometimes I walk around like I know something that other people don’t. Other times I am sad enough to cry. Sometimes I am riding some kind of crazy adrenalin experience that makes me feel very confident and aware. Other times I am sad enough to cry. Sometimes I think I have interesting lessons for people to learn from and other times, I am sad enough to cry.
With today being Christmas Eve, I don’t know what to expect but I have already been sad enough that I have cried. And it’s not quite 7:30 in the morning. I have some things to do today but it’s far from a hectic schedule. I will be working out, going to the grocery store, ushering at my church’s 5:00 Christmas Eve service then going to Lindsay’s house for a sleepover. There will be enough lapses in activity to leave ample time for sadness if I allow it. Which I probably will.
People keep asking me how I am doing with the holidays but without Coleen. I say I’m doing okay, staying busy and all that. Truth is, when I stop and think about it, I hurt pretty badly. I am also very sad. I tell you that because you care enough about me to be reading here. I tell you that because it is safe for me to say it to you. As much as I try to disguise this Christmas season, my truth is I am deeply saddened by Coleen’s absence and I miss her immeasurably. If I had to put a number on it from 1 to infinity it would be infinity times infinity. That’s a lot.
Sometimes, I am okay. Throughout most of the activities leading up to Christmas, I have performed satisfactorily. I made a Christmas list, bought what I needed, wrapped my gifts, put up a tree and some decorations and sent Christmas cards. Pretty much everything I would have done anyway, probably more than years past. I also bought a new car, hosted Samantha for a sleepover, visited my friends from work, and helped decorate my church. I held up well emotionally through most of that except when I put that bell ornament on the tree. Not exactly a jammed packed schedule, but busy enough to keep me busy. It’s getting closer to crunch time now. All of a sudden, this is Christmas Eve morning. Normally, I would have gone to work today and come home early. Coleen would have been at home doing some last-minute preparations for this evening or tomorrow’s dinner. We wouldn’t have been hosting that but she would have assumed command of it anyway. She would have been making a list of what she needed to do and what she needed to buy and she would have wanted to sneak in some yoga or video workout of some kind. (Since you aren’t here to see me, I will tell you that I just walked away from my typing and thinking in search of composure. I found some under a very hot shower where I went to hide. I find hot showers very cleansing in more ways than the obvious. I also cleansed my breathing passages with something called a Neti-Pot and a couple hits of an Aromatherapy inhaler. I feel much better, at least for now.) Things would be in some state of disarray when I came home but Coleen would rally and we would somehow get to church for the 5:00 service on time. Then we would spend Christmas Eve with Lindsay and Mike and the girls and exchange gifts and drink champagne. We would come home tired and lie down together, in each other’s arms and fall asleep. Thankful for all the ways we had been blessed.
It is hard for me to rationalize the fact that exactly one year ago, Coleen and I picked up my Mom and took her to Christmas Eve service with us. And now they are both gone and tonight I will be going alone. Last year my mom was her usual edgy self when we took her. She didn’t like where she had to sit with her walker and thought the service was too long, which it was. She fell asleep a couple of times, too. But it was the first Christmas Eve I had spent with her in about 20 years. I didn’t know it would also be the last. Oh, boy. Some things are better left not thought of. That ‘s one of them. Here’s another one: That was also my last Christmas Eve with Coleen. I am only telling you that because you already know and it won’t surprise you to find out.
So what’s it going to be for me? Sadness or joy? Pillar of support for others or emotional wreck? Probably a little bit of everything. It’s impossible not to take joy from my little granddaughters and I will be there with them tonight and tomorrow morning when they discover what Santa left for them. But I also know that later on, they will each receive a memory book of photos of them and their Grandma and that might make everyone cry. I will be happy to be with them and Lindsay and to see my son Patrick as he returns from NYC for the holiday. I will try to be brave and strong for everyone, using some of my newly discovered powers of healing and helping. But I will crave the comfort of my family and my friends at church and from the church itself. I think I will be a little bit of everything.
Sometimes I know exactly where I am going. Other times I am sad enough to cry. But I am always listening for a whisper, always looking for a light.
Coleen had a sprawling plant hanging in our dining room window. It was a Philodendron plant and it was beautiful. She started it several years ago from little more than a seedling and nurtured it into a very impressive plant hanging from a shelf and touching the floor. I always thought it was a little too long as some of its leaves actually dragged along the floor. But that’s how Coleen wanted it to look so I just left that one alone. I put it in the category of her clothes piled up on a chair in our bedroom, a nightstand stacked with books and papers and a car that resembled a closet. Those were all just little nuances of who Coleen was and I was glad to accept them as part of her overall package. Always happy to trade some minor annoyances for the privilege of her love.
Coleen was very proud of her plant and often commented on how well it was doing. She paid a lot of attention to it and she told me that she even talked to it sometimes. On the rare occasions that she was away, I was always reminded to water that thing. Since she passed, I have been giving her Philodendron plant special care. It has been on a regular watering cycle and I have hung it outside a few times when it was warm enough so it could get some sun. I have been very careful and feel very responsible for the health of that plant.
A few weeks ago I noticed that it was getting root bound and outgrowing the ceramic pot it was in. I thought it should be transplanted into something bigger, but I was afraid to do it, thinking I would break something or kill it. So I decided to take it to a florist and pay them to do it for me. Then I had another idea.
What if instead of putting it in a bigger pot and me bringing it home and hanging it back up so it could get bigger and end up taking more floor space, what if I did something else with it? What if I had the florist take that beautiful plant that was so special to Coleen and divide into six smaller plants that I could give to Lindsay, Shauna, Coleen’s sisters and her mom. I thought that would be a wonderful way to share something so dear to Coleen as a symbol of her life perpetual in our hearts. I was very proud of that idea and when I told people what I was up to, it was hard for me to get the words out without choking up.
I picked my new plants up yesterday and Mary Ann from the florist shop told me an interesting story about Coleen’s Philodendron. She started by asking me if I believed in spirits. I smiled and said “Yes, all the time.” Mary Ann went on to tell me how busy it was on the day she was going to take on my project. Phones were ringing incessantly and the store was crowded with customers all morning. She finally decided that she had to take care of my plant and went to the backroom. As soon as she started working om it, the phones stopped ringing. She looked out front and their store was empty of customers. Mary Ann said it took her and another girl about 30 minutes to turn Coleen’s large Philodendron into six smaller ones. And not one phone call, not one customer while they were working on it. Then as soon as she had the sixth plant safely planted, the phone started ringing and the customers were back. But for the time required to perform the important task at hand, they were able to give 100% undivided attention to Coleen’s Philodendron plant.
As I have stated many times before, I don’t believe in coincidence. It doesn’t surprise me that some energy that we don’t understand might have had a say in how much business Petals to Please was going to do while the transplanting was being done. I certainly believe it. After hearing the story from the florist shop, I wondered if this was even my idea or if I heard a whisper from someone suggesting it to me. Of all the things I have done since Coleen’s passing, this might have been the most magical. The plants are still beautiful, just smaller but there’s more of them. I gave the first one to Karen last night and she loved it. Especially once I explained to her what it was and where it came from. The others will love theirs too and I will love giving them. I feel like I’m giving a piece of Coleen to some of the really important people in her life.
Don’t worry, I saved one for myself, too. It’s in the dining room right where it was before. Waiting for some sun, some water and a little talking to.
What if instead of putting it in a bigger pot and me bringing it home and hanging it back up so it could get bigger and end up taking more floor space, what if I did something else with it? What if I had the florist take that beautiful plant that was so special to Coleen and divide into six smaller plants that I could give to Lindsay, Shauna, Coleen’s sisters and her mom. I thought that would be a wonderful way to share something so dear to Coleen as a symbol of her life perpetual in our hearts. I was very proud of that idea and when I told people what I was up to, it was hard for me to get the words out without choking up.