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.
I know what they do when a hurricane is expected to hit the mainland in Florida. I’ve seen that all on television. People buy plywood and put it up over their windows to protect against broken glass. They go to Publix or Krogers and buy plenty of water and canned goods for stock. They get batteries and make sure they have flashlights and candles nearby. They are all expecting a storm and taking the necessary precautions for protection and survival.p
My plight is not quite that serious. Or is it? I am also expecting a storm today although mine will have nothing to do with weather. Mine will be a storm aimed at my emotions. Today is the third time the calendar has landed on 18 since Coleen passed away on September 18th and I am preparing for that. I had an especially difficult time of it last month which marked the second month of her death. That evening there was an incredible full moon pasted against a turbulent sky. I could not take my eyes off of that sight. It seemed that each time I glanced away then looked again only a few seconds later, the vision was different. I was very fragile that night and the beauty and shine of the full moon was powerful to me. It was sending me a message, it was not coincidence that the sky and moon would look like that on that date.p
The moon has been a very important symbol to me. Crazy as it sounds, I think it is one of the ways that Coleen and I communicate with each other. She always loved the moon and all of its varied appearances. She loved the light and the full moon was always special to her and she never failed to bring it to my attention. From our second-floor bathroom window, we get a clear look at the night sky and Coleen could often be found there, taking in the magnificence of the moon and surrounding stars. I recall one especially clear night when so many stars were visible. She wondered what she was looking at. I had recently acquired my iPhone and looked for an app to download that might give us that information. Sure enough, I found something called “NightSky” and put it on my phone. A few minutes later, we were holding my phone to the bathroom window and seeing the names of the stars in the sky. Coleen loved that, she loved information and knowledge. NightSky told us where the moon was, too, but we already knew that. It was so bright.p
On the night she died, the moon was so big and so brilliant. It wasn’t full until the next night, the 19th of September. But you couldn’t tell that by looking at it. I came home that night and stood in the backyard and stared up at that moon, that beacon of light and hope. I held my arms out and up towards it trying to embrace its power, feeling Coleen streaming to me through the light. Each of us telling the other that it was somehow going to be alright for everyone. The night of my retirement party last month, Lindsay picked me up and the moon was still two days short of being full. It shined brightly on us and gave us the revelation that Coleen was coming to the party with us. I felt her there the entire night. I will never, ever look at the moon again without feeling Coleen through it. Absolutely never.p
The moon was full last night, a day before the 18th. It was so cloudy last night, though, that I couldn’t see it. The night before that it was nearly full and very bright and I took some time alone with it. I almost wonder if the clouds from last night weren’t hiding the full moon from me, saving it for tonight instead. Or maybe protecting me? Putting up plywood? It won’t be a full moon tonight but it will be close and I know it will be brilliant. Even if it is still hidden by the clouds, I’ll know it’s there and I will be able to see it.p
Today is December 18, 2013. It is three months since I lost the love of my life. One quarter of a year. 90 days. However I measure it, it is an undefinable period of time. It seems like yesterday but it also seems much longer than that. Tonight I will be aware of the clock striking 8:40 PM. I will have plenty of water and canned goods in my pantry and emotional plywood over my windows. Unlike the residents of Florida, I will know the exact time that my storm will reach land. I still won’t be ready for it. p
I have been thinking for a while about having business cards made even though I’m not in business. After a brief search on Google, I found a web-marketer willing to let me design my own cards and ship 250 of them to my house for about ten dollars with free shipping. So I designed this card and now own 250 of them. I am not sure if having business cards is really necessary for me, but I did it anyway. And here’s why:
I have attended two functions where I thought it might have been nice to have something like these to hand out. Once I was at a Breast Cancer Survivor Education Day held by the Breast Cancer Network of Western New York. I talked to quite a few people there and I think I would have passed out several cards that day had I owned them. Actually, I think I would have gone through 25 or 30 of them, easy. Everyone I talked to asked me about my reason for attending. I explained that I had recently lost my wife and came to support and for support. I could have told them more about my story with a prop like this business card. And if they took one of those home with them, maybe they would have dialed up the website and found something of interest.
On a different day, I was at a Hospice seminar about grief and the holidays. There were about 50 people in attendance for that event and I probably could have handed a card to each of them, especially the Hospice speakers. It would have been another opportunity to help a very specific and captive audience by getting them to read my website. And then there was that day when I was getting my haircut and told my stylist Amy, about losing Coleen. Her friend and co-worker Heather overheard our conversation and got upset. She had lost her husband several months prior and was dealing with a lot of hurt and grief. It would have been nice to give her one of these cards, too. Maybe she could have called me or checked in on-line. At least she would have had something with some information on it that might have helped her somehow. Or she could have thrown it away, too. At least she would have been faced with a decision.
So, who the hell do I think I am that I need personal business cards to carry around with me? What makes me so important? I don’t know and I don’t know.
But what I do know is that I think I am developing a message. By sitting at this keyboard with my notes, feelings, memories, tears and Kleenex and typing what I feel, I think I am developing a message that just might help others. It might teach people that when a loss happens, it doesn’t have to mean that all is lost. If someone like me can find strength from within and take strength from others and grow in to a new person with a different direction, then why can’t the rest of us? I believe this website is therapeutic. I believe that people can receive strength, inspiration and encouragement from it. I believe that is the message that Coleen wants me to convey. I believe that’s how she wants to keep helping people from the new dimension she now inhabits. And I believe the truths that I write about, the truths I learn more about everyday, are meant to be healing to not just me, but for anybody paying attention. And I want to get more people paying attention. So I guess that’s who I think I am and that’s what makes me so important that I think I need to carry business cards around with me.
I have two dear friends very special to me who read this blog religiously and I have gotten incredible feedback, inspiration and encouragement from them. I know that by reading what I write, they are very inspired by me and that is such an awesome complement to receive. I am an amateur here, a new swimmer in these waters. But I will not drown or struggle for breath. As much as I have no idea what I’m doing, I know exactly what I’m doing. Business cards might not be something that most retired guys carry around, but it feels right to me. It feels a little like marketing. Maybe I’ll have some refrigerator magnets made next.
The first time I felt Coleen’s presence after she died I was getting massage therapy from Maureen. Her studio is dimly lit and she always has soft music playing along with a variety of nature sounds like water flowing and birds chirping. It is a very relaxing and tranquil place to be. I enjoy going there because Maureen is a wonderful massage therapist and I can usually get myself in a state of relaxation there that I can’t achieve in most other places.
That day toward the end of the massage, I felt a difference and Maureen and I both identified it as Coleen’s presence. Today was different. Seems that things are always some kind of different for me these days. It wasn’t a bad different it was just a new different. I talked to Maureen throughout most of the massage but when I was on my back on she was working my neck, head and shoulders, I went silent and let the atmosphere kick in. There is something about having the full weight of my head in Maureen’s hands that is very comforting to me. It’s as if I am relinquishing control of myself and trusting her to know the right thing to do. And she always does. I like that feeling of surrender and trust. For much of my previous life I had to be the one in control. I was the boss or the father and I was the one people looked to for decisions and answers. Now I love that I don’t wear that hat anymore. Or that I wear it much less often.
My encounter today with Coleen was brief but very powerful. I was lying on my back and Maureen had my head in her hands and I had my eyes closed. There is a light hanging from the ceiling over her massage table and it is kept very dim. I always have my eyes closed and never even notice the light from that light. Today, lying face up with closed eyes, trusting my head to Maureen, I saw a brilliant light. At first it was in the distance then got slowly closer and much brighter. It seemed to settle somewhere between where I was and where I wanted to be and then just stayed there for a time. I knew what it was. I’m not clairvoyant nor do I have superpowers, but I know something precious when I see it. I smiled, I breathed, I choked up. I can’t help but feel different emotions at the same time when Coleen finds a way to present herself to me like that. Mostly I want to reach out and hold her and tell her everything I have been keeping inside and saving for our next conversation. But since I can’t do that yet, I try to stay focused and welcome her presence, receive it, cherish it. Those moments don’t last long so when they occur, I make sure to get every precious second from them that I can.
When my massage was done, I asked Maureen if she could explain what happens when she is holding my head in her hands. I don’t always feel Coleen when she does that, but I do seem to get somewhat emotional each time. Maureen told me that today she saw a glow around my head as she held it and she wasn’t surprised that I felt Coleen’s presence as strongly as I did. She seems to think that my head is perfect during those moments for Coleen to be able to access it. Like it’s portal for her to communicate. I think it’s interesting that Maureen seems to have the ability to coax Coleen to come around when I’m there. Like she’s the conduit that links us. Truth is, I don’t really know what to think. I just know how it makes me feel.
One of my favorite movies is the original “ROCKY.” Coleen liked it, too. We usually didn’t agree on movies so it was always special to hit on one we both liked and ROCKY was one of them. That’s a movie I could still watch once a month and not get sick of it. Coleen wasn’t much for watching something she had already seen, but I know for a fact she saw ROCKY, or at least parts of it, several times. Probably every time she watched it, I was with her but she wasn’t with me every time I watched it. Not now.
The ROCKY series of movies made a sharp turn towards the absurd after the second one. Stallone took himself and his character too far after that and the stories got pretty ridiculous. For me, I didn’t care so much. I watched them anyway. Not repeatedly, not like the first one, but I have seen them all at least once. After ROCKY 5, I thought the whole thing was over and deservedly so. Stallone was pretty old and the idea of Rocky getting back in the boxing ring with anybody was pretty crazy. Then I heard about one last sequel. The last Rocky movie was called “ROCKY BALBOA” and when I learned of its existence, I had to see it.p>
I don’t remember exactly when that was but I do know that Coleen had been diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer (should that be capitalized? If so, I refuse to do it.) by then. Some evenings she would meditate or read or do some yoga or maybe just want to rest. Other nights we would be together talking or trying to console each other. Often times we would discuss her treatments and options and how she was feeling about some of the alternative things she was doing. And some nights we would just hold each other. I always tried so hard to encourage her. I hate myself for not being able to fix her. I’ll never get over that failure. It’s true that I don’t walk around with a pocketful of miracles, but she was my Baby and your supposed to protect your Baby. I couldn’t fix her and we both knew that, so instead we tried so hard to encourage and support each other.
Sorry about that. It didn’t have much to do with Rocky but I needed to say it anyway. Sometimes when Coleen was involved in some of her self-help things I would go upstairs and watch sports or TV or movies. One night I put “ROCKY BALBOA” in the Blu-Rayplayer. I didn’t know anything about the movie so I was surprised by everything. The opening scene had Rocky in a cemetery reading aloud and talking to his wife, Adrian who had died of cancer. He was seated at her grave in a folding wooden chair talking to her and he was there every day doing the same thing. He was still sad, but had adjusted. He missed her but created a life of his own after her. A new Rocky. At the end of the first scene he got up, folded his chair, and put it in the tree overhanging Adrian’s grave. He kept the chair there in the tree so he wouldn’t have to carry it back and forth every day. Because he went there every day.
At this point, I am going to assume that anyone reading this post knows about Rocky and Adrian. They were soul mates. She was his inspiration. They were deeply in love and married a long time. In many ways they were similar to Coleen and I. It’s true that I was never heavyweight boxing champion of the world like Rocky, but at least I can say that I am more than just a fictional character. When I started the movie and saw Rocky in the cemetery, I immediately thought of the foreshadowing that represented to me. Was that to be our fate? Coleen was doing pretty well at that time but her overall prognosis wasn’t good. Was I going to be Rocky Balboa someday? I couldn’t help but wonder about that. I didn’t want to think about it, but I wondered.
Coleen and I had talked about how she wanted things to be arranged after her death. I knew she wanted to be cremated but did not know her wishes beyond that. I asked her if she wanted her ashes spread somewhere like the Outer Banks, Adirondacks, Pacific Coast or some other place dear to her. She didn’t have anything specific in mind for that and asked me what I thought. I said that I liked the idea of having a place to go, a special place that would always mean her to me. And a place where our children and grandchildren and her parents and family could go to remember her. She mentioned a quaint little cemetery just down the road from where we live that she always liked. She rode her bike through there a lot and took me there with her sometimes. I liked that idea and we just kind of let the conversation settle right there, both of us seemingly content with our unspoken decision.
A week or so after Coleen died, I went to that cemetery and looked around for plots. It is a very old cemetery and there are many trees there. That became one of my priorities in choosing the right location. I wanted a tree overhead or at least nearby. So that she could have a lot of sun because she loved the light, but at the same time, I wanted there to be shade sometimes to protect her. I can not say that the ROCKY BALBOA movie wasn’t playing in my head while all of this was going on because it was. I didn’t intend on putting a folding chair in the tree, but I wanted a tree there anyway. And I wanted a place to go where I could be alone with her and where we could talk. During a different conversation Coleen and I had toward the end, I told her I was always going to be talking to her. She laughed and said that she would try to find a way to talk back.
I don’t know how Rocky Balboa made his choice, but I was very deliberate in selecting Coleen’s final resting spot. I visited the cemetery several times and viewed the surroundings from many different grave sites. Did I want a new area, an old one, open to the sun, lots of trees? I never bought a piece of land in a cemetery before, especially one as important as this one. The very first plot I was shown stayed with me, though. I kept going back to that one. I brought Patrick with me to get his opinion. A few days later I brought Lindsay and my granddaughters to the cemetery so I could show Lindsay the plots I was considering. We looked at two and then I took her to the very first one I saw. The same Patrick said he liked. It was the one under a tree, part sun, part shade. It was in an older part of the cemetery where there were lots of neighbors and she could be social. The sun was shining that morning, sending streaks of itself through the trees. The girls were running around through the markers, laughing and playing. Lindsay and I watched and laughed ourselves. Just to the right of that plot was a small trail and to the right of that was the stump to a large tree that had been cut down years ago. The tree stump was within a few yards of the grave site. It was about six inches above the ground and maybe three feet in diameter. When the girls discovered it, they decided it was a stage and they took turns standing on it and singing songs. Right next to where their Grandma could hear them.
How could I possibly not think that Coleen was talking to me at that moment, through her granddaughters, through that sunshine, telling me, “Yes, yes, please, this is the spot. This is where we can be together, where we can meet and rendezvous, laugh and cry and remember and be perpetual and eternal. This is us. All of us. I like it here.”
I was listening. I heard her. I went back the next day and bought that plot. Coleen’s not there yet but she will be this spring. I talk to her now but I think it will be very special to have that place under that tree, part sun, part shade, where there’s a stage next door for the girls to sing and sunlight through the trees and where we can all go to be together again.
