Archive for January, 2014

Wearing Rings

Written by RJ on . Posted in Discovery, Healing

From the “I have no idea what I am doing” department, here is something to consider. I have stopped wearing my wedding ring. I don’t know if it’s too soon to do that or if it’s too late. I just know that instead of it being on my finger it is now on my dresser. I don’t know if people have noticed that I don’t have it on, but I notice. It feels a little weird, certainly different. For a while, I wore it sometimes and didn’t wear it other times. It didn’t seem like there was any rhythm to it until I realized that I usually didn’t wear it when I was out of the house on my own. Like if I was shopping or at the gym. On those occasions I was ring-less. But if I was with family, I made sure to have it on.

That practice continued right up to Christmas a week ago. I had not been wearing my ring for a week or so before Christmas but it seemed that I should have it on for that. It seemed almost disrespectful by not having it on. So I had in on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and over the weekend, I think. Maybe not that long. Truth is, I don’t remember when I last took it off. I only know that I don’t have it on now. And I don’t know when I’m going to have it on again.

A month after Coleen’s passing, my son Patrick commented on the fact that I was still wearing my wedding ring. I explained by saying that I hadn’t gotten divorced, so I thought I should still be wearing it. Strangely for him, he didn’t argue my explanation. And I felt I was doing the right thing. Then later on, I began to take it off sometimes. The truth is I guess I didn’t want to be wearing a wedding ring if there was a chance I might be noticed by a woman somewhere. I would undoubtedly be reducing my chances of potential romance by portraying myself as a married man. But the other truth is I was no longer married. If I was filling out a form and had to declare my marital status, I would check the box that said “Widowed” or “Single.” So why the hesitation with the ring?

I had to talk myself into that new marital status and even now, have to remind myself of it. It’s another part of letting go and becoming new. It’s another part of saying goodbye to someone so hard to be without and saying hello to new opportunity and new people. As I think about some of these seemingly unrelated episodes of my life, these little things like wearing a ring, consistent themes and lessons frequently repeat themselves. Months ago during my first Reiki therapy, Rebecca was teaching me about breath control. She instructed me to breath in deeply through my nose and to exhale completely. She told me to exhale so far that I felt like I was “crunching out your breath to make more room for the new breath, the next inhale.” Without me thinking about that concept ahead of time, that metaphor is exactly what I am writing about. I have to crunch out the old to make way for the new. It’s not disrespectful, more like discovery and survival.

In some ways I feel like I have turned a small corner in the past few days. I have survived most of the holiday season without catastrophe and haven’t been crying as much. I am thinking more about future games and a little less about sadness. I am becoming interested once again in one-on-one, boy-to-girl conversation and interactions. I have been hearing whispers of encouragement from different sources to become better than before. To use my loss as impetus for growth and discovery and improvement.

Post Script:

Before I finished this, I took down the few Christmas decorations I had this year. Just as I thought I was becoming some kind of tough guy who was getting over the emotion of losing Coleen, I ran into the little white bell Christmas tree ornament from 1981. The one that says “Our First Christmas Together 1981″ on it. Talk about a wave of emotion, it was more like a storm as I was simply overcome with the sadness that ornament brings me. Somehow, I got it off the tree and packed away. I wonder how I will react when I see it again next year. If it will cripple me like it did when I hung it and when I took it down this year. Or if it will ring by itself like I was tickling it? Where will I be in 12 months? I can’t think that far ahead. I’m just working on today and then the day after that.

This whole healing thing is like waves reaching my shore. They come in various sizes and strengths of emotional intensity and are often unexpected. After they reach the shore, there is a calmness as the water returns to where it started, only to reform later in other waves, other emotions, that sneak up on me. As much as I think I make progress in healing, I remain very fragile. I am a living, breathing contradiction. I have stopped wearing my wedding ring but I continue to wear Coleen’s rings around my neck. I think I’m stronger, then become weak. I think I know what I’m doing and then I wonder. And then I write it down and learn.

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Oh, Baby

Written by RJ on . Posted in Coleen, Healing

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?.”

Oh, Baby.

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