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.
I feel weak right now, very tired. Kind of rung out emotionally. It’s no wonder considering my activities of the last 24 hours. Last night I spent some very private time on the three-month anniversary of Coleen’s death. An easy dinner, glass of wine and some music led me up to right around 8:40 PM when my emotions peaked. I didn’t have the moon to cope with last night because it wasn’t visible through the thick cloud cover. I would have liked to have seen it but it was probably just as well. My heart got a little break instead. The moon was bright this morning, though. I walked into my bathroom a little before 6:00 AM and there was a bright light shining through the window and on to the floor. I smiled to myself as I noticed it. So the clouds were a little too heavy last night, but this morning wasn’t too late to get a message across? I got it. I took a picture from my bathroom window and also through NightSky. There was a very bright star next to the moon and I learned that was Jupiter. I haven’t figured out the significance of that yet.
For the past few weeks I have been wrestling with a car dilemma. Specifically, I have two and only need one. I inherited Patrick’s Mazda when he moved to New York City and I also had Coleen’s Honda Odyssey minivan. I have been trying to sell one or both but with no luck and decided to trade them both in on a different vehicle. Something more appropriate for a guy like me, whatever that is. After some negotiating with the Honda dealer, I worked out a deal and bought a new Honda CRV which I picked up today. That was supposed to be fun except I had to drive Coleen’s van to the dealership and turn it in as part of the trade. Oh, brother! Not so much fun. I had already given that car a pretty thorough cleaning a month ago when I listed it for sale. That was emotional. Today I emptied everything from Coleen’s van, drove it to the dealer and sat in it for several minutes saying goodbye. With emotions flowing the whole time.
We bought that van more than nine years ago from the same dealership where I was turning it in. There was so much of Coleen in that van that it broke my heart to give it up. She drove it every day, it was her car. I acted like I had some ownership in it and made the payments on it, but it was hers. She deferred the driving to me when we were going somewhere together in it, but it was still her car. I had a very difficult time giving that up today. When I got to the dealer, I just wanted to sign my name, exchange keys and come back home. I knew it would be hard to see that car go and it was. But it was something that had to happen, part of life’s master plan for me. I had to let that thing go so I could make room for something new. Another metaphor for Love, Loss and Healing. You have to learn to let go before you can move forward. Right?
I did come home today in a brand new car and that helped dull some of my pain. When the salesman was briefing me on the intricacies of my new car, I was only half listening, though. The other half was still focused on that 2004 Honda Odyssey I would soon be leaving behind . But I was making way for something new, something I wouldn’t have otherwise. I took some comfort in the fact that the license plates on my new car were the same ones from Coleen’s car. We just transferred them. She had a little glass heart hanging from the rearview mirror of the Odyssey and I took that off and will hang it on my new rearview mirror. I was also able to salvage two bumper stickers from the van. I made one into a wall hanging in my kitchen. The other one is something we bought on vacation in Berlin. I’m not sure yet what it will become, but I’m glad I have it.
So there are some shining moments borne from my clouds of sorrow and emotion. Plus let’s not forget that I do have new car with a sunroof that Coleen would have loved, and I’m very excited about that. Seems like more of the “making myself new” theme. I had two cars from my past, neither one of which fit me now. I turned those into something different, something closer to my newness. And at the same time, I salvaged some artifacts, saved the memories, and survived the emotional storm of the entire transaction. The past 24 hours took a lot of out of me, though. I’m ready for bed. Tomorrow I’ll go for a ride.
Historians will tell you that the first Thanksgiving was celebrated in 1621. Of course for me and my new world, today is my first Thanksgiving in more ways than I care to talk about. People told me that the holidays would be especially hard when trying to recover from the loss of a loved one. This holiday I am actually recovering from the loss of two loved ones. This is the first Thanksgiving in my life that my mother has not been a part of. And of course, we all know about Coleen and I spending the last 33 Thanksgivings together.
My Thanksgiving memories of my mother are almost all from my childhood days. She made a very big deal of Thanksgiving. We were kind of a vagabond family and never lived near any relatives. My dad had a job where he seemed to get transferred a lot and we lived in several different places in New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio. My grandparents, aunt, uncles and cousins all lived in southern Ohio and just far enough away that many of our holidays were spent without any extended family. Since meeting Coleen, I have become part of a rather large family and I appreciate the warmth of that, especially during holidays. As a child, I didn’t have that experience. I think that’s why my mom made a big deal of things, she was making up for something else. Plus she was part kid herself and genuinely enjoyed these days.
When I was an adult, my mother lived a substantial distance from us and we didn’t see her on Thanksgiving. She was in Arizona for a while but settled in Bradenton, Florida for the past 20 years or so. She also had a lot of health issues making travel difficult. Still, I would always call her every Thanksgiving morning and we would talk about how many pounds of mashed potatoes I was making for dinner and reminisced about Thanksgivings past. She always liked talking about the old days when my brothers and I were kids. I know those were the best days of her life and they were special to us, too.
Last Thanksgiving, my mom had moved to Buffalo from Florida so she could finally be with family on days like these. It was the first Thanksgiving I spent with her in probably 25 years. She came with us to Karen’s house for Thanksgiving dinner and was a little cranky. Truth was, it never took much to get my mom upset. She let too many little things bother her. Anyway, we all got through the day and she got to see some of her family and her great-granddaughters on Thanksgiving day. I know she was thankful for that. That turned out to be not only the first Thanksgiving I spent with my mom in 25 years but also the last one I will ever spend with her. My mom died from a stroke this past summer, just three months before Coleen.
I can’t recount all the Thanksgivings with Coleen. In some ways they were very normal yet every one was something special. That’s how Coleen was with things. Just when you thought it was just another day, you suddenly realized that you were in the middle of something extraordinary. Coleen seemed to have a way of autographing days like this. There was a general sense of mild chaos as we tried to hurry to collect things to take to her sister’s house where the dinner usually was. Even though the meal was served at Karen’s, Coleen was always the one in control. She used her gentle persuasions to influence most facets of the dinner. And nobody seemed to mind. That’s going to be different today. There is going to be a big void today, an elephant not in the room. Hard to handle.
Thanksgiving of 1987 was memorable. It was the last Thanksgiving for my father and Coleen played quite a part in that. My dad lived in Georgia and although we rarely saw each other, we stayed in touch with frequent phone calls. One Sunday he called me and told me his health was bad, congestive heart failure, and he was waiting for a heart transplant. I told Coleen about it and she said we should take the kids and spend Thanksgiving with my dad and his family. I would have never thought of that. We flew to Atlanta, rented a car and spent my dad’s last Thanksgiving with him. When we left his house early Sunday morning, he was standing in the driveway in sweatpants and a button-down golf sweater, waving to us. I knew that would be the last time I would see him alive. I would not have seen him at all if not for Coleen.
I have to leave now. I have to take my 12 pounds of mashed potatoes and two bottles of wine to my sister-in-law’s house and celebrate my first Thanksgiving without my mom and without my wife. I’m going to be there with Lindsay, Mike and the girls and with Coleen’s family and they will all be experiencing a different holiday, too. I better hurry, though. They might need me as much as I need them.
After Coleen’s funeral service, we had a brunch at a waterfront restaraunt downtown near St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral where the service was held. In the Episcopal faith, they do not have a eulogy per se during the service. Instead, the sermon is somewhat personalized to the deceased and their name is used throughout the service, but there is no actual eulogy. It was suggested by our church’s Dean that in lieu of that, we might want to say a few words at the brunch instead.
Three months earlier, I had eulogized my mother at a different kind of service and it was all I could do to get through it in one piece. I basically just read my speech and made as little eye contact as possible and still had to stop several times to compose myself. I knew I would not be able to do the same with Coleen. It was just too emotional for me to attempt. Our daughter Lindsay said she wanted to talk about her mom and would say something about her at the brunch and I was happy about that.
But as the day approached, I realized that I just could not let that moment, that opportunity get away without taking the microphone. I would never be able to forgive myself. After all, this was supposed to be a celebration of her life and I had been a pretty big part of that. At the same time, I knew that I would never be able to get through a whole speech without breaking up. I was pretty sure that I would even struggle with complete sentances. But I had an idea how I could pay tribute to Coleen without making a scene. I went first before Lindsay because hers was longer and sweeter and because I knew what she had to say would weaken me.
This is pretty much what I said:
I couldn’t not say a few words about my beautiful wife Coleen and I knew it would be hard to talk to you about her without getting very emotional. So, here are some words I wrote down that will always mean Coleen to me:
Curious
Witty
Cooking
Nurture
Vacations
Reading
Yoga
Intuitive
Enthusiastic
Smiling
Fretful
Funny
Grandma
Determined
Party Planner
Persuasive
Adirondacks
Social
Healing
Information
Menu
Concerned
Guidance
Family
Sunflower
Optimistic
Cabernet
Encouraging
Loving
Mellencamp
Spiritual
Inspiration
Soulmate
Sassy
Sexy
Beautiful
Forever
Everywhere
I choked a bit on the last few words starting at Soulmate that day. I’m choking on all of them now.
Here’s the original list.
There’s something about couples as they get older. You can just look at them and tell things. Like they don’t always have to be impressing each other. Like they have a long history together. Like its ok if they have periods of silence. And they are so comfortable together. They almost know what the other one is about to say or is thinking.
There’s one of those couples in the restaurant I’m at right now. She’s dressed a little funky in a jean jacket and jewelry, short gray hair, and wearing glasses. Maybe kind of a hippie look. He’s not so funky. Tank top, jeans (in Florida?), kind of looks disinterested. I like her more than I like him. She seems enlightened and he seems distracted. She’s the spark. She’s Coleen but he’s not me. I am attentive and anxious to hear what she has to say. He doesn’t seem to offer any observations or attempt to stimulate conversation. I do. I always wanted to make her laugh. I would always say something to get her to react, hopefully happily.
I’m jealous of couples. Especially couples that are close to my age. To our age. We were such a great couple. I mean, just great. We were the standard bearers on how couples should be. People wanted to be in our company, we were Coleen and Rob. We were fun and inspiring. We had parties, game nights, happy hours. We made people comfortable and made them laugh.
Now it’s just me and I can’t be that couple and I am jealous. I am mad about no longer being part of a couple, especially a couple that included Coleen. I was privileged to have my role in that. I can not replicate that and I miss it.
