Staying Alive

Written by RJ on January 12, 2014. Posted in Coleen, Healing, Loss

Not only do I think people do it, I think I am doing it. Coleen passed away almost four months ago. That may not seem that long ago but it’s also been 120 days. That means I have gone to bed alone and gotten up in the morning alone 120 times. That means I have spent 120 days thinking about how much I miss her and that I’m not going to see her again. It sounds different to me that way even though it’s the same amount of time.

So why haven’t I cleaned my bedroom closet? It’s funny that I said “my bedroom closet” because Coleen always referred to our bedroom as her room. Anyway, all of her stuff is still in the bedroom closet. I haven’t removed anything except some sweaters that I took off a shelf and put in a box upstairs. I only did that to make room for some sweaters of my own. Other than that, it’s all the same as she left it. Shoes piled in a corner, clothes hanging, some purses and bags on the floor. I have enough room in there for my stuff but it would be more comfortable with the extra space I guess. Especially on the shelves.

If I clean out the closet and send her clothes to a charity, am I saying another goodbye? If I leave it all alone, am I somehow trying to keep her alive? I already know from the experiences of selling her car, donating her winter coats, cleaning the bathroom, and going through some drawers that stirring up memories from that can be very painful. I think that’s part of why everything still remains untouched.

Some of her things I have left out like books and mementos on her nightstand, her yoga mat and a small table she used for meditation. I admit they are almost like a shrine to her. I take comfort in all that stuff being exactly where it is. It doesn’t bother me to see it and it’s certainly not in my way. But am I secretly prolonging her life? Delaying saying that goodbye? Tricking myself into something that’s not real? I guess that’s up to a psychiatrist to determine.

How about her urn? That might be an interesting case study in closure, or lack of closure. Coleen’s urn and ashes are still in my dining room atop the window seat under two windows. It sits there innocently surrounded by some very healthy plants that I water and care for. Every once in a while I touch her urn. It’s a very smooth marble and it feels good to touch it. There have also been times when I have knelt and placed my forehead on it, kissed it and shed tears. I like having it here but I know the day is coming that I’ll have to say goodbye to that as well. I’ll have to say goodbye all over again and that will come with more pain. I almost regret not burying it last fall after I bought the plots for us. That goodbye would have already happened. Coleen and I agreed that she would be remembered in that little cemetery she used to ride her bike through and it’s my job to take of that. It will be better for her parents and family to have a place to go with flowers, prayers and memories of their own instead of me hoarding her in my dining room. There is light perpetual in that cemetery that will shine upon her.

I often think about how Coleen would have done things if our fates had been reversed. She was not as sentimental as I am and I believe it would have been easier for her to rid herself of my possessions without developing emotional attachments. That’s not to say she wasn’t at all sentimental because she was. Just more pragmatic than me. She would have dealt with my loss better than I am dealing with hers and many of the issues I have would not have troubled her nearly as much. She would have her own set of difficulties and grief but she would not wrestle with the same things I do.

Getting back to my original question, I do not think I am doing anything wrong by my actions or lack of actions. It’s probably true that I feel like I’m keeping things alive by not ridding my house of Coleen’s clothes. I realize though, that’s not how you keep someone alive. Not with clothes and urns and books on night stands. The real ways we keep people alive is by talking about them and remembering them in stories we tell and lessons we’ve learned. It’s in the photos we look at that trigger all those wonderful memories. I honor Coleen everyday in the way I think and talk to people and father our children. Her values are part of me and part of how I keep her alive. She’s alive in the recipes I make and the writing I do. Not in a car or a closet. She’s alive in her children and granddaughters. She’s alive as my inspiration for growth and discovery. When I say I want to help those who have suffered a devastating loss, much of that is her helping people through me. She’ll always be alive in the messages she sends me and through the moon, the wind, and the light.

Writing is funny in its own little therapeutic way. When I started this post, I wasn’t sure where I was going with it or exactly what I was going to say. Then thoughts became words and words became a sentence and before long I reached my own resolution. It’s like some kind of self therapy. Like talking to myself.

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