This Morning

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?

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