Back a few posts ago, I gave birth to the idea of combining a quote from Abe Lincoln with a sketch Coleen made of a flower. I decided that the sketch she drew was of the exact same flower Abe referred to in his quote and thought it should be immortalized. I don’t know that I have done that, but here is what I did do.
The internet is full of companies with websites selling their products and services. Regardless of what you want or need, it can be found with a simple Google search. I wondered about having lapel pins made. Specifically, lapel pins of the flower sketch. It
didn’t take long to find several websites that could provide this service. I chose one, sent a photo of the flower pin and received a proof of the proposed design within a few hours. It was good but I didn’t like some of the coloring and asked for a revision. I had that the next day along with a price quote and after I supplied my credit card info, an order was placed for 100 flower pins. No tax, no shipping charges, made in China.
They arrived two days ago via UPS and I could not be happier. I want people to have them like they have the breast cancer pink ribbon. I want to give a pin to everyone in the family. I want to hand them out at the “Strategies on Hopeful Living” conference being held in Coleen’s memory. I want her friends to all have one. And her granddaughters.
To me, the pin represents the story of a woman’s fight against breast cancer. It represents every ounce of courage and hope that became that fight. It speaks to me about a love of family and a wish to make all things somehow, alright. And it says that there is more to be done, more story to be heard. It is a flower planted so others can see the beauty of life, and treasure it and fight their own battles for every precious second. It’s more than a drawing Coleen did one day. It’s a symbol of her life. It’s the flower planted where they thought a flower would grow. Her and Abe.
Ever since I discovered Coleen’s drawing, I knew I was on to something. It wasn’t until I saw it as a lapel pin that I realized it meant more than a symbol of Coleen’s spirit. The flower also represents the journey I have embarked on as my own kind of breast cancer survivor. It reaches out to me with encouragement to replenish my life and recreate myself. And it reaches out not just to me, but to all surviving spouses suddenly finding their way alone instead of with their partner. What better symbol for new seasons and new beginnings than a beautiful flower with fuchsia trimmed petals? Rising anew from the dormancy of winter to grow fresh and strong.
Someone a long time ago decided that a pink ribbon should be the logo that would forever represent breast cancer. I don’t know what will become of the flower but I do know that it is much prettier than a pink ribbon. And it is much more pure and untarnished. And it is more genuine and heartfelt and meaningful and original. It was drawn by a woman who knew she was dying from metastatic breast cancer. It was her message of hope to the rest of us, to her family and friends and sisters in survival whom she was leaving behind. If she could plant a flower, this would be the one she would plant. I like to think she left it here as her way of telling us to keep planting flowers where we think they might grow.
There is a difference between a birthday party and a celebration of life and I tried to define that difference last weekend on Coleen’s first posthumous birthday. It didn’t seem proper to have a birthday party. Candles, gifts, cards, and “Happy Birthday to You” were not what I had in mind when I invited a small gathering of family for dinner, drinks, and kinship. I wanted to celebrate Coleen’s life and acknowledge her birthday. I thought I had a good plan.
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.
A few weeks ago I was listening to NPR in my car. I have been listening to NPR a lot these days which is kind of ironic because I never did that before I bought my new car. Guess I am seeking more culture in my life these days. In the past I mostly listened to AM sports talk radio which is pretty mindless, especially in the market I live in. There just isn’t enough interesting material to keep things interesting.
So recently I have been dialing up the local NPR affiliate, WBFO 88.7 FM. That’s where I heard an interview with Nicole Atkins. I had never heard of her but she sounded kind of intriguing in the interview. Confident, sassy, strong voice and strong opinions. I liked those things about her, She sounded like what I would want my next girlfriend to sound like. And if she had a tattoo somewhere, practiced yoga, meditated, and wore beads and a peace sign, all the better. Truth was though, I had no idea what Nicole Atkins looked liked or what she was wearing. I only had my senses of hearing and imagination to rely on.
The music interviews on NPR are as informative as you let them be. In this case, the listener was treated to a little question and answer with some song snippets thrown in along the way. Those musical interludes were little more than teases for the entire song and entire record. But they were enough for me to purchase Nicole’s new release, “Slow Phaser” from iTunes. I think she will get a royalty from my purchase but with the current state of affairs the music business is in, I can’t guarantee it.
I liked the 30 second song teases that were played during her interview. There seemed to be something about her message and delivery that appealed to me and left me wanting a little bit more. When I listened to the entire recording, I discovered a sequence of four songs that was outstanding and could have held their own compared to the best of the best. One of those songs, “Cool People,” sounded like a Beatles song fresh off the Abbey Road album. It is that good. And the closing number, “Above as Below.” not only brings to mind the John Lennon masterpiece, “Across the Universe,” but it also paints a wonderful metaphor of heaven and earth.
Nicole Atkins and her “Slow Phaser” is the first music I can identify as happening after Coleen’s death. I’m sure there was something else but this is the first set of songs with enough impact to make itself memorable to me. The song “Girl You Look Amazing” will always remind me of a somewhat tumultuous relationship between myself and a very beautiful woman who recently entered my life. Not sure how all that will eventually play out, but that song will forever remind me of these days and Barbara M and how amazing she can look and be.
I remain fascinated with the songs on this album and how they are the first new music I have embraced as a widower. I have ventured to a few music clubs and heard live, local bands and have enjoyed that. But it’s not new music when I have already heard the songs being played. Nicole Atkins gave me the gift of new music and without knowing it, also the gift of new discovery. This music is new, different, after Coleen, and during someone new. Who is also new, different and after Coleen.
I like to think that any new and positive discovery I make is a step further in my healing. It makes my journey more interesting and the letting go a little bit easier. Sometimes its new music, sometimes new people, or a new picture on my wall.
Last year the Dean of our church, Mother Liza, took a sabbatical meaning she took a leave of absence for spiritual growth. She and her partner had several destinations in their plans but the one that caught my attention was a little island off the northeast coast of England called Lindisfarne or “Holy Island.” She said that although there was little to do there and the sheep population far outnumbered people, it was a very special place. She referred to it as a “thin place.” When I asked what that meant she replied that it was thought to be where the boundary between our world and the spiritual world, the one we can only wonder about, is very thin. Almost transparent. Lindisfarne was thought to be one of those places and Mother Liza enjoyed being there for that reason. She said there wasn’t much to do there except “be quiet and soak in the presence of the saints.”
Lindisfarne was the center of Celtic Christianity in England and has a written history preceding 600 AD. Another thin place is a tiny island off the western coast of Ireland called Iona. This island also has a history of religious significance. Both of these small islands have deep religious roots and while there, they claim it is sometimes possible to feel closer to our spiritual worlds.
Closer to home is a community called Lily Dale where many spiritualists and mediums take up residence in the summer months. Lily Dale is actually a small hamlet established in 1927 with a year round population of 275 and is considered by some to be the center of spiritualism. I don’t know if this is another thin place or not but I have been there and I can say that it has a different vibe. I noticed immediately that there was something unique about walking around that campus. Something that was unusual. Many people go to Lily Dale to consult with the mediums there, trying to contact relatives who have passed on. Some say it worked, others say it didn’t and I don’t know what to make of all that. I can only say that things felt differently there for me and I think Lily Dale is a pretty special place to visit.
Without traveling overseas or even an hour down the road, I have discovered some of my own thin places. I have called them places I go where I feel safe, but I think some of the safety is born of the thinly veiled environment I am in. These places seem to be easily penetrated by a presence I can feel but don’t always understand. Nor do I feel a presence every time I visit one of my thin places. I have learned though, that I don’t have to feel the presence to find peace. Sometimes just being there and breathing it in is enough.
My thin places are my church where I have so much history in such a short amount of time. The room where I receive massage therapy has proven to be especially thin. So thin that I sometimes envision nothing but a sheer curtain wafting on a gentle breeze that separates me from another spirit. I have received similar comfort and wonder in the small cottage where I receive my reiki and meditation practices. One of my new favorite places is the beautiful environment of Healing Waters, the yoga studio I attend. That is a very spiritual place where I hear many whispers from many directions. I wonder if these places are thin to me because of their structure and settings or if it’s because of the people and messages I find in them. I am happy to say it’s probably a combination of all of that.
Someday I would like to go to Scotland, Ireland and England and maybe I would venture to Lindisfarne or Iona. Something tells me I probably won’t though. I’ll leave that for others. I have plenty of thin places right here. Sometimes, it feels thin wherever I am.
I’m not sure I ever knew Coleen and this song in the same breath. We listened to a lot of music together. For me, music should be playing in the background for most activities and in the foreground for all the others. But it should always be playing. Coleen and I had music playing most of the time whether we were cooking, dining, having cocktails or cleaning the house. Music was a big part of our lives together. We didn’t always like the same music but for the most part, we had a lot in common. We did rock, blues, jazz and classical and every once in a while, she would even let me slip in some Neil Young. If I was good.
In 1971, Cat Stevens released “Teaser and the Firecat” and the last song on side one of that album was called “How Can I Tell You.” It is a beautiful lament to lost love and a missing person. I was in my last year of high school when I first heard it and although I thought it was a nice song, it never had much impact on me. I always thought the song was about losing someone you loved. I never thought it was about death. But now when I hear it, I can’t imagine it being about anything but that. I don’t recall specifically hearing this song with Coleen but I’m sure we did. If not, we’re hearing it now and I’m the one singing.
I admit that I am plagiarizing myself here because I posted this song back in September just before Coleen died. But I played it again tonight when I was writing my last article and it is just so powerful and so sad. I just had to do it again.
