“Going to church tomorrow at 10. Interested in seeing how the Episcopals do it? I could pick you up 9:30 ish then walk around downtown for a bit afterwards.”
I thought she would want to go with me. Ruth is Catholic and from what I have gathered in the almost two months of knowing her, she is pretty serious about it too. And since the Episcopal service and Catholic services are so similar, it seemed like a good fit. I wasn’t really motivated by that though. It seemed to me that the time was right for Ruth to learn a little more about me. My religious practices confused her as they do me sometimes. I told her a few weeks ago that I wasn’t really very religious which conflicted with my practice of attending church almost every week. I can’t explain all that but I wanted her to see my church and how I acted there. I also wanted some of my friends from church to meet her and for her to meet them. Sometimes you can learn quite a bit about people from the company they keep.
She called me to ask if I was going to be okay with her in church with me. She was concerned that it was the church Coleen and I went to and that it might be too hard for me to be there with her. I knew all that but thought the result would be different for me. Instead of being saddened or uncomfortable by Ruth’s presence, I welcomed it. I thought about how we played tennis a few weeks earlier on the same court that Coleen and I played on. And how right, or “okay” it felt for Ruth to be there with me. Not replacing anyone but being in the present with me. My instincts told me it would much the same in church. I told Ruth I wanted her to come with me and she agreed and we discussed how to turn a church service into a daylong date.
I picked her up at 9:15 and we left for church which is downtown Buffalo. On the way she tried to paint her nails in the car and we laughed about the result. I was more nervous that morning than I was when I asked her, more nervous than I thought I would be. I was suddenly apprehensive about introducing her to the people I knew at church. Sometimes I struggle with new introductions and this was compounded by the fact that Ruth would be meeting people who all knew Coleen. We arrived a little early and walked around outside for a few minutes to kill some time. There were only one or two people for Ruth to meet on the way in before we sat down in a pew that Coleen and I frequently occupied. Ruth on the inside where Coleen always sat, me on the aisle. Once we sat down, my anxiety subsided and I was just in the moment. It felt perfectly normal. So normal that I kept looking at Ruth, trying to understand the magic. How did she get here? How did I find her?
During Coleen’s funeral service which was held at the same church, a very freakish incident occurred. Just as the priest was beginning her eulogy/sermon, which was based almost exclusively on “the light” and Coleen’s fascination with it, a radiant bolt of sunlight literally exploded through one of the stained glass windows shining down on the two front pews where we sat. It was impossible to ignore and everyone in the church noticed it. I still get goosebumps thinking about it. On Sunday with Ruth next to me, it wasn’t quite as dramatic. But there was light once again shining through the stained glass windows and hitting me squarely in the eye. It came through different windows and I noticed it from a different pew and I couldn’t stop looking at it. Not long after that, during the sermon, Ruth slid her finger toward my hand, lightly touching it. I put my hand over hers and held on like it was the most natural act imaginable and kept it that way for a long time. I looked at her, sang with her, prayed with her, smiled with her. During the sermon, the pastor asked the congregation to invite new people to attend our services. Ruth and I looked at each other and laughed for she was brand new there and had already been invited before the sermon was ever spoken. She was exactly what the pastor was asking for. After the service we walked out and I introduced Ruth to several other church people including the priest. I explained to him that Ruth was one of the new invitees he was calling out for. I thanked her for coming with me and she thanked me for taking her. It made perfect sense that she was there with me.
We stayed downtown after church. Every year in Buffalo, there is an event called the “Garden Walk” where people open their yards to show off their gardens. People get maps of houses that are in the Garden Walk and walk from location to location looking at a plethora of flowers, plants, ivy, ponds and almost anything else that be grown outside. Ruth and I are avid walkers and both enjoy the city neighborhoods where this takes place so we joined the masses and toured a large residential area of the city. As there were many other people there, it seemed unlikely that we would go all afternoon without running into someone we knew. Which, of course, we didn’t.
On a cul-de-sac, I heard someone call my name. I turned to look and it was one of Coleen’s first cousins, Annette. She was talking to someone else but recognized me and called out. I had one of those “Oh shit, what am I going to do now” moments but only for a brief second. I smiled, grabbed Ruth, and introduced her as my girlfriend and introduced Annette as Coleen’s cousin. As much as I thought that situation could be uncomfortable, it was the exact opposite. The three of us stood and talked for about 15 minutes, not unlike what might have happened if Coleen and I had run into Annette. We talked about the neighborhood we were in which is where Annette lived and the city and the event. No mention was made of Coleen’s passing or of me being with someone else. Just as things had been in church that morning, our meeting was very normal. There was no evidence of loss or of pain or of grieving, only of three unlikely people sharing a few natural moments in time.
About an hour later, we approached a house that had a large garden in it’s back yard. On the front porch stood the houses owner and I recognized him. Not at first but within about ten seconds I realized who he was. When Coleen was in the Hospice facility about two weeks before she died to get her medications straight, we were visited on two occasions by the Hospice chaplain, Bob Fink. Then on the day Coleen died, he came to the house and prayed for her, prayed with her and with us, her entire family. He gave us great strength as we faced our new journeys without her. And there he was, standing on his porch at the Garden Walk as I passed him on my way to his backyard. As I exited the yard, I passed him again but this time I stopped to talk. “Your name is Bob, isn’t it?” He answered yes and I explained how it was that I knew him. I introduced Ruth to him as my girlfriend and explained to her how Bob had helped me and my family with Coleen’s death. We changed the subject to his garden and beautiful flowers and spoke for only a few moments before parting. As we walked away I was amazed that I would run into that man on this day. I wondered about the significance of that meeting. I don’t think he remembered me but I explained who I was. And he saw what 10-1/2 months of healing could look like if given the chance. Bob saw me healthy and happy and with someone very special at my side. And of course I saw him and remembered what I looked like the last time I saw him and how much different I was 10-1/2 months ago. It almost seemed like the ending of The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy wakes up from her “dream” and finds the wizard leaning through the window, chuckling at her perceived experience. Was that what it was for me? Oz was real to Dorothy just as Coleen’s death is real to me. Am I waking from my dream now to return to something brand new but just as normal as before I went to sleep?
That entire day was a series of messages to me. How could all those things happen within such a short period of time? Ruth, the church, the light, the sermon, the Garden Walk, Coleen’s cousin, the Hospice chaplain. It was an overwhelming experience. I have often told the story of Coleen instructing me to find another woman after she was gone. The punch line being my surprise that she didn’t tell me who that woman should be. Well, maybe she is telling me. Or maybe I’m finding myself in the right situations to figure it out for myself. It was one amazing day in this incredible journey I am on. Part love, part loss, part healing and a whole bunch of discoveries.
Today I did something I have never done before. I took a woman named Ruth, who is my girlfriend, and her grandson Jay, to a park near my house. The three of us played baseball, basketball, golf and tennis. We went for a walk in the woods. Halfway through all this we paused at a picnic pavilion and lunched on cold pizza, watermelon, Combos, water and conversation. And although I had never done this before, I had of course done all of these activities many times separately. As a young boy I spent most of my summer days with my brothers and our friends playing baseball at Forestview Elementary School in Bay Village, Ohio. Basketball came into my life later but I always loved to shoot baskets and play HORSE or PIG. Tennis came even later to me but I played a little bit back in the 70’s and later with my son Patrick. I also played with my late wife Coleen up until last year. Golf has always been a mainstay of mine and walking through the woods is something I have always loved to do. So what made today’s activities different?
For one, I have never done them all on the same day. At least I don’t remember doing that. Today not only did I do them the same day but all within about a four hour span of time. At times I felt that the three of us had invented some kind of Como Park Pentathlon moving quickly from sport to sport. My salvation was that I won most of the events even without knowing some of the local rules (like there are four letters in the word PIGG).I think if we had kept score for everything, I would have a gold medal around my neck tonight. The competition was good but as the lone adult male, I was heavily favored in each event. After all, Jay is only eight years old and my girlfriend is a girl. I think I was supposed to win.
The other factor that made it so different was I have never done those activities with a girlfriend. It’s true that I have not had a girlfriend in over 33 years but the ones I had in the past were not athletic. I did play tennis with Coleen a little but I never pitched overhand to a girl or had her guard me in basketball or help her with her golf swing. I am amazed that Ruth is not only well-versed in athletic endeavors but can also physically carry them out. She is not expert in most of them but she isn’t afraid to try and is very eager to teach her grandson what she knows about form and theory. She was good at baseball, okay at basketball, and she has very good golfing form. But it was the tennis court where she really stood out for me. You see, Coleen and I used to play tennis on that same court and on the same sides as Ruth and I were on today. So when I looked across the net I saw Ruth standing where Coleen once stood. And each time I did, I smiled and subtly shook my head because it made perfect sense for Ruth to be there. It is just like when the two of us met several weeks ago at the park where Coleen and I were married. It felt very right for us to be there together and I was not at all uncomfortable with that fact. The tennis court was the same except the feeling of it being right was even stronger.
We concluded our Como Park experience with a walk on the Nature Trail. It is less than a mile through a wooded area and mostly along a creek with a very passive set of rapids. There is a small bridge but not much else along the way except for a few signposts with numbers on them. Hardly a hike up a mountain. As we approached the halfway mark, we encountered a woman with a camera. She had ridden her bike to that point and was photographing some flowers and plants. We talked for a short time and she pointed out a large tree a few feet from us remarking how much she liked it. The tree was unique because it was all by itself in an area of the park that was more of an open field than woods. The tree was tall and wide with it’s branches reaching out very far and was quite noticeable and majestic. As we finished talking to the woman with the camera and continued on our journey, Ruth said something about people seeing different things in objects, like that woman and the tree. I replied that some people think trees are very symbolic and they have a lot of admiration for their strength and beauty.
It was later, after Ruth and Jay left for home, that it all came together for me. The day, the tree, the tennis courts, the company. I can sometimes be a little slow to figure things out but this came to me very clearly. Today I was in a park with a new girl and it was a park where Coleen spent a lot of time. I was on a tennis court with a new girl that I used to share with Coleen. I am in a life with a new girl that I used to be in with Coleen. And everything is different now. It looks, sounds, feels, and smells different and it is all so beautiful. There is no sadness, no melancholy, no guilt. My heart has opened up, expanded, to make space for this new girl to be part of it. She is not replacing anyone nor is she filling a void. She is all her own unique person who has entered my life and carved out her own personal piece of me.
And then there was the tree. Several months ago while talking to my reiki practitioner Rebecca, we used a tree as an analogy of my loss. She said that losing Coleen was like a branch falling off of a tree. She was that branch that fell and will never be replaced. But a new branch will grow on my tree. It won’t be in the same place and it won’t offer the same shade, but it will be a brand new branch all its own, in its own place, and with its own shade covering me. Comforting me, making me happy and keeping me safe. I think I can see that branch from here.
I graduated yesterday. There was no ceremony or procession and I wasn’t wearing a cap and gown but I graduated just the same. Most graduations are from some kind of school like last week when my granddaughter Samantha graduated from her pre-school. It wasn’t a school I graduated from yet I learned so much about myself, life, and life after death that it was better than any lessons I could have learned at school.
I have been attending bereavement counseling sessions as a service from Hospice for many months. These sessions have been individual meetings with the same counselor who I will call Lynn. About once a month, Lynn and I have met to discuss my grief and how I am dealing with it. We talk about my current state of affairs and feelings that I have about my loss. Earlier this year I participated in a widows and widowers bereavement support group that met once a week for eight weeks and I benefitted greatly from that. My experience with Lynn has been different from that because it has been a much longer period of time and because it is just her and I sitting together in a room for 60 minutes. It is a very private and reflective experience.
Lynn is trained to counsel and advise people who have lost a loved one. That’s what she does all day long and she is good at it. She knows how people typically progress with the grief process and provides guidance and comfort to those of us brave enough to sit with her. Brave enough? Yes, I did say that. It takes a certain kind of bravery to tell a stranger your darkest fears and secrets and I’m sure many people are uncomfortable with that. I wasn’t. For me, each Hospice counseling with Lynn was an opportunity to open my heart and let my feelings be heard. It is often difficult to find people who are willing to listen to how a grieving person actually feels. Some might ask “Oh, how are you doing, Rob? I think about you often.” But too many of those people are not really interested in hearing about how I actually feel or the range of emotion that I go through. It makes them uncomfortable. That is okay though and I understand their reluctance to engage in that type of conversation. On the other hand, Lynn has no choice. She has to listen to me, it’s her job. And with that knowledge, I was able to tell her everything I was feeling. Unconditionally.
I had never been in any form of counseling sessions before but I quickly learned how beneficial they could be. It was the sense I had that regardless of what I said, I couldn’t be wrong. I was discussing my feelings, my troubles and how I felt about the death of my wife. And I had a professional listener and adviser in the room with me who wanted to help me with my process of coping with that loss. In many ways I felt that she wasn’t just helping me cope but also helping me learn from it and make me stronger as a result of it. Lynn offered me a lot of encouragement to grow myself into a better person. There were no secrets kept when I was in that room. I told her everything that related to my loss. How I felt, what I was planning, what I had done. We talked about the people in my life and their feelings and my role in helping them cope. I talked, I listened, I laughed and I did a lot crying and everything was good because everything was about me and how I felt and how I could get better.
I like to think that Lynn enjoyed our sessions. I have taken on some activities that are somewhat unique to the grieving process and she was always interested in hearing about those things. Of course I was always anxious to tell her about them as well. I wondered if she wrote some of them down and if she would someday share them with other clients or talk to her associates about them. I truly hope she might. There are few things more healing than success stories shared.
So am I a success story? I think that in certain ways I am very much that. Lynn thought so. I used some tools that were offered to me, tools that were left for me to find, to build a network of support and comfort. I threw in some of my own creativity and with my network and some divine help along the way, I feel I have succeeded.
Yesterday when Lynn asked me how I was doing, I said, “You know Lynn, I feel pretty close to 100%.” I’m not sure there has ever been a point in my entire life when I could have said that yet it was the most honest answer I could give to her question. It wasn’t just my bereavement rehab that I felt almost 100% about, it was the whole state of my life. I am in a good place with my grief, I have met someone who I enjoy being with and is very supportive to me, I am active in worthy volunteer causes, I have wonderful relationships with my children and I have so much to be thankful for. If that doesn’t all add up to 100% it comes pretty close.
Towards the end of yesterday’s session, Lynn asked me if I thought I still needed to come back. I turned her question back on her and asked for her professional opinion. Lynn said that she thought I had made great progress and was in a good place with my life and my grief. I agreed with her and we parted with a hug. She has been a significant piece of my healing by listening and understanding and has helped me get better, almost all the way to 100%. And as I walked to my car it almost felt like I had graduated.
This morning I am on my porch swing with a cup of coffee. I have music playing in my living room that can be heard quite well from where I sit and is probably noticeable to the passers-by on the sidewalk as well. The street I live on has many houses with front porches yet this morning mine is the only one occupied and the only one where music can be heard. That is a common occurrence. Sometimes I wonder what my neighbors must think of me. I do things like that, I live alone now but can be found working in my yard, hosting parties, entertaining friends, cooking on my grill, and hanging out. I can also be seen driving in and out of my driveway as I am frequently on my way somewhere or returning from somewhere else. I am not sitting still.
This morning I am in an especially good place. I don’t mean my front porch but a good place internally. I have just begun my latest post-corporate world undertaking as Treasurer of The Breast Cancer Network of Western New York. I am a member of the Board of Directors for that non-profit organization that helps breast cancer patients, survivors and their families. It is something I have wanted to be involved with since I started to recover from Coleen’s death nine months ago. Once I heard about the opening I tossed my hat in the ring and now here I am starting another new chapter. I already have some thoughts on how I can help move this group forward and hope to do just that. In the hippie anthem “Almost Cut My Hair,” David Crosby sings the lyrics “I feel like I owe it to someone.” In his version he was talking about owing a commitment to an assassinated Robert Kennedy. My someone is, of course, my late wife, Coleen. I have a hard time thinking of a way that I could do more to honor her life than to help fight the disease that took it from her.
This morning I have a girlfriend. I realized it yesterday when I was sitting in a bank waiting to get my signature set-up to write checks in my new Treasurers role. I thought about the girl I have been dating for the past five weeks and smiled and it dawned on me how much I wanted to see her and that is something you think when somebody’s your girlfriend. So I realized that’s what she is. We met on June 1st downtown on Buffalo’s waterfront and spent about three hours together walking around there and talking. We finally sat down for a beer before we parted and we were both interested enough to want to meet again. We have done a lot of walking and talking and have visited some interesting places. One of those was Glen Park which is where Coleen and I were married. My girlfriend suggested that place for a walk one evening and I thought why not? I didn’t care that we were married there, it actually seemed like a good spot to meet because of that. I was very comfortable with her there and I mentioned the significance of Glen Park to her. We have had dates at a golf driving range, restaurants, river walks, a concert, party grove, and at each other’s homes for dinner. We even played 9 hols of golf together one Sunday afternoon. We seem to be on to something and are extremely comfortable and calm together.
Some of the places we have been together are places that Coleen and I were also at. That fact never escapes me but also never troubles me. I don’t get any feelings of trepidation or angst because of it. Just the opposite in fact. I embrace the newness and welcome it to locations familiar from other times. Those places are now reborn to me and even more special as I see them through the different eyes that have been opened for me. Feel them through the new awareness I have been given. I feel like I am looking at the world through a pair of brand new glasses custom-made just for me. I feel like I have opened an incredible gift of new opportunity that has been given me. How many people get to do that?.
This morning I think Coleen is happy. I think she looks upon us sometimes. She would be happy with my new role with The Breast Cancer Network. She would be happy that I have a girlfriend. I almost think that my comfort at the venues I have been is her way of telling me that things are alright. She told me before she died that she wanted me to find someone. She said I would need companionship and love and that I wouldn’t be good by myself. I think she would like my girlfriend or maybe I should say I think she does like her. One evening I was at her house and Pandora was playing. Within 20 minutes I heard Coleen’s favorite song, “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” and then “Here Comes The Sun,” which has become my family’s musical mantra of Coleen’s presence.
This morning I am happy, content, calm, grounded, confident, excited and new all over again.
This morning I am somebody’s boyfriend. How cool is that?
Before Coleen died, Lindsay and Samantha “interviewed” her. Lindsay wanted to create an activity for her daughter Samantha and her mom to do together. She also wanted to preserve some facts and favorites about Coleen for all of us to share and rally around. One of the questions they asked Coleen was her favorite holiday. Her answer was 4th of July. I was somewhat surprised by that response because I thought she would have said Christmas.
After thinking about it for a few minutes, I realized that the 4th if July was indeed her favorite holiday and it was easy to figure out why. Entertaining. Coleen was a natural-born hostess and party planner and the 4th of July gave her the perfect opportunity to strut her stuff in those roles. I don’t remember when we started to host Independence Day parties but it was several years ago. At first it was just a few people but quickly grew to around 40 friends and family members plus whoever dropped in from other friends who were passing by on foot.
Our village holds a 4th of July parade every year at 2:00 PM and that was the catalyst for our parties. The parade is no big deal, mostly fire trucks, marching bands and local politicians throwing penny candy to the kids sitting on the curb, but residents gather every year to see it. Since our house is less than a 5 minute walk to the parade route, it became a gathering place for people to park and as long as everyone was already there, why not make it a party? Of course to Coleen, a party wasn’t just a place to see friends and family but more importantly, an opportunity to try out new recipes. Our first few menus consisted of burgers and hot dogs but one year Coleen discovered something different to serve. For her, the more unique, the better and she hit a home run when she unleashed Chickenburgers on the crowd. I wish I could remember the year of the first Chickenburger but I can not. Of course she would have recalled. I do remember one year when some of Lindsay’s friends from college stopped by and we gave them Chickenburgers. So that would have been at least 10 years ago although I feel I have made those burgers longer than that. Whenever it was, everyone loved them and they became a true 4th of July tradition to us. So much so that one year, in a fit of experimentation, Coleen bought different rolls to serve the burgers on to the chagrin and disappointment of our guests. We didn’t make that mistake again.
Beside the legend of our Chickenburgers and all the fun they were to serve and eat, there was a different experience attached to them that holds a place in my heart. It was in the planning and the making of them. The recipe calls for freshly ground chicken breast which is not always easy to find. Ground chicken can be bought in packages but it’s not the same so Coleen always shopped around to find not only the best price but also a store that would do it. Once she took care of that, the “fun” became her and I making the burgers. We usually started with approximately 10 lbs. of ground chicken which made about 50 burgers. Add a few diced Vidalia onions and a lot of chopped fresh thyme and the Chickenburger assembly process was rather involved. It was a true labor of love though.
Coleen and I usually made the burgers the night before and it would take a couple of hours start to finish. It was a little tedious but we worked together and the time went quickly. We played music, opened some wine and made an event of it, talking and laughing as we went. I always chopped the onions and mixed the ingredients and she would take care of the fresh thyme and decide how much of everything to use. Then we both shaped the patties all the while worrying that we were making them too big and we wouldn’t have as many burgers as we needed. Of course, we always had plenty. And at the end we would cover our masterpieces in the refrigerator, clean up our mess and walk down to the village beer tent and hear some live music. It was a ritual to us but we loved doing it together.
As fun as that all was, the real joy was cooking and serving those burgers and accepting all the compliments from our guests. There is a bit of a process to cooking the burgers on the grill, adding barbecue sauce and cheese at the end, and I became quite proficient at it. Those Chickenburgers were one of the few items that Coleen trusted me to grill without her supervision or critique which was good because she was busy running the kitchen and making sure all of our guests were properly fed.
Last year was Coleen’s final 4th of July. She died six weeks later. We didn’t make Chickenburgers last year. We still had a party but served a different menu. Nobody minded as it was pretty amazing that we even had the party. Coleen insisted on it though and except for substituting chicken sausage for Chickenburgers, it was pretty much the same party we had all the years previous to that. I wondered about having the party this year and went back and forth a few times before deciding that I would once again host friends and family on the 4th of July. And that I would make Chickenburgers.
It was much more challenging this year without Coleen, just like everything else is without her. I had to take care of everything, ordering the chicken, the rolls, remembering how many burgers were in a pound, how much pop to buy and all the other details Coleen always took care of. And of course I had to make the Chickenburgers alone without her company and playful criticism and advice. I couldn’t find the recipe for the burgers but I had made them enough to remember it all. And I still worried that I would finish with enough burgers as I shaped the patties. I did. I ended up with 60 of them which will leave me with enough for leftovers and to maybe share with some new friends. It’s an old recipe, tried and true. I wonder if it will taste a little differently this year.
Coleen’s 4th of July Chickenburgers
Fresh ground chicken breast (order from butcher or supermarket meat department in advance)
Vidalia Onion, diced
Fresh thyme, chopped
Barbecue sauce
American cheese
Combine chicken, onion and thyme and shape into patties. You should get about 5 patties per pound of chicken
Place patties on hot grill. Sear one side and flip applying barbecue sauce to seared side. Sear second side, flip and apply more sauce. Cook burger thoroughly, flip again, apply more sauce and melt cheese on top. Serve on soft (bulkie) roll and garnish with mayo, lettuce, tomato.