Baby Mine

Written by RJ on March 13, 2014. Posted in Healing

This was one of the big days in my recovery. Her first birthday after her death. The first time she wasn’t a part of March 8th since 1959. I thought I would be able to cope with the day the same way I had with Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve and Valentine’s Day. Those were the predecessors in heartbreak to this day. I was wrong, though. Coleen’s birthday was a little different from those other days, a little more personal. It was, after all, her day not a national holiday celebrated by the whole country. March 8th belonged to her and to us and our family.

Emotionally, I started early that day. After a rather stressful night before, I awoke feeling sad and lethargic. I struggled through some coffee, cleaning and preparations and thought about the significance of the day the entire time. It wasn’t until I did almost an hour of yoga that I got myself into a better frame of mind and felt like I was functioning a little closer to normal. I was nervous a quite anxious about dinner and having company. I had hosted many occasions buy almost all as the husband to Coleen’s hostessing and this was my first time out as a widower host. Never mind the emotions I already had about the day itself. My guests were to arrive at 4:00 and I was putting together two pans of my famous lasagna. I like making that for a crowd because it tasted good and I am very good at making it. The recipe is pretty simple but there are enough steps and ingredients involved to keep the mind busy. Which is what I wanted. Believe it or not, I had some random music playing as I was cooking. When I say random I mean that I did not select it and I don’t know what I will be hearing next. The song I heard next made me cry. It was Bonnie Raitt singing “Baby Mine,” a song from the Dumbo movie. I hadn’t heard that song in many years but it was a favorite of Coleen’s. It didn’t matter to me that the song was intended for the comfort of a baby elephant. It mattered that it was a memory and the lyrics said. “Baby mine don’t you cry, Baby mine dry your eyes, Rest your head close to my heart, Never to part, Baby of mine.”

Lindsay was the first to arrive with Mike and the girls. She brought the one thing I had forgotten to buy, fresh flowers with a sunflower mixed in. Coleen’s family arrived shortly thereafter with various amounts of confusion and clamor. For the most part, everyone acted like it was just another get together, which of course it wasn’t. One of Coleen’s sisters brought two balloons filled with helium. The idea was for the granddaughters to take them outside and let them go and watch them float up to heaven for Grandma. The balloons were passed around first so that we could all write a message to Coleen. I didn’t write any words. Instead I drew a heart and wrote “RJ + CJ” inside it. I thought that was better than words and sometimes I’m not very good at writing what I feel. (LOL)

We all went outside to watch the girls release the balloons and just before they did, we sang Happy Birthday. I didn’t like that part so much. It was never supposed to be a birthday party. Just a family helping each other through a difficult loss, a difficult day, and a lot of good memories. Later, after dinner, we had cake and ice cream. There were no candles and no singing for that. I thought one version of Happy Birthday was too many and certainly saw no need to sing it twice.

Just before we sat down to eat, I got everyone together in the kitchen and said a few words about Coleen. There were some tears from everyone as I recounted the tale of finding the Abe Lincoln quote on her nightstand and then when I read Abe’s quote about the thistle and the flower aloud. I got through that alright having to pause only once for composure. We toasted her life and love then did what she would have wanted us to do: Eat.

Dinner was excellent and the day went well. Lindsay, Karen and I were the most touched by everything and it was nice to be able to support each other. By the time everyone left, I was very tired and ready to lie down. But I also didn’t want the day to end just yet so I poured a glass of scotch and sat in the living room alone. I had a few more memories to acknowledge and a few more songs to hear before saying goodnight.

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