Ted Coman

Anakha and Ted ~ Seminary Graduation

Ted Coman

I awoke this morning remembering that today is the 3rd anniversary of my father's death. He would be 68 today. He was in excellent health...skied 100 days in a row at Mt. Bachelor...ran and biked every day. He had a hard attack while mountain biking up at Lake Paulina...his friends on search and rescue brought him out on a sled that he had assembled the day before to be used to take people that were injured off the mountain. It still is difficult for me to truly grasp what happened...that he is gone...that he isn't just across the mountain...living his life in Sunriver.

Three years ago today I was volunteering at Coffee Creek and had spent the day with the women. I went to bed about 10:30 p.m. At 11 p.m. the phone rang...it was my mom...."honey, I have some bad news...your Dad died today." I remember falling to the floor, phone went flying out of my hands and sounds I have never made came out...wailing, deep wailing...it felt like a piece of me was being ripped away. Gary came running from the other end of the house...he said it sounded like I was being attacked or raped. He picked up the phone and told my mom I would have to call her back. I was dazed...in shock. I sat and stared at the wall. My friend Lisa drove over and took me to the mini-mart...I bought some cigarettes and smoked 1/3...it tasted awful so I threw it away. I didn't know what to do. How to be...how to feel.

The next few weeks I walked through my life on autopilot...continued to push along in my life. I drove to Bend 2 days after he died to see him and my stepmother, brother, mother and grandmother. I remember sitting in the funeral home with him...still in his biking gear, laying on this table...band-aids still in place where IVs had been. I played him Amazing Grace and sat with him. I removed the band-aids and laid my hands on his chest...I remember that it grew warm underneath my touch. Later that day when I gold my stepmother Barbara that I had played him Amazing Grace...she said, "Oh that was Teddy's favorite...that surely warmed his heart."

Several days later after planning and visits from family and friends, we had his memorial service. The church was packed 300...400 people? A sea of yellow stood out in the pews. His search and rescue team from Central Oregon. I gave the eulogy along with his sister, my Aunt Mary and his best friend Al. Afterwards several people asked me if I was a lawyer or a professional speaker...even on that day I seemed to have it all together. I even spoke at a church the morning of his memorial...rushed home and changed and drove to Sunriver.

After the funeral I wandered around the reception...still disconnected and in a daze. I am not sure anyone recognized the state I was in. In fact, I am quite sure no one was able to see that underneath the surface a sea...a surge of grief was rising. It would be only a few weeks before it would all come crashing through...grief, anger, betrayal...but for now it looked like calm before the storm.

My Dad was a natural leader with vision, charisma and devotion. He was a VP at Chevron corporation and lived in San Francisco until retiring to Sun River 10 years ago. He LOVED to downhill ski...he was amazing on skiis...at age 65 he skied with the 30 somethings...guys his age were to tame and shied away at cold weather. Not my Dad...he had a goal every year to ski 100 days in a row...only counting a day if he made 10 runs. One of his favorite sayings was "each day you choose your attitude...you can choose to have a great day and you will." My Dad had a hard time feeling though...he didn't like the feeling wedge...kind of like Robert! I think he was afraid of his emotions...afraid of how much he did feel. In the end I wonder if that was the reason for his heart attack...shutting down...breaking down. I am fairly certain my Dad didn't allow himself room to feel much aside from excitement, joy and happiness...one time during an estrangement from his son...my brother Andy, my Dad said, "well, when I can't do anything about it, I just put it in a box and stick on the shelf." I wonder now how many boxes were on his shelf...boxed up feelings, truths, needs? I wonder Dad, what were you keeping on that shelf of your heart?

One of the greatest lessons during that time after my father's death was learning to feel, to grieve and to ask for help. I ended up having a grief meltdown a month or so after his death. I had kept pushing along...suppressing the grief, suppressing the anger and one day it all came out...I ended up hurting one of my friends with my words and my actions. I came undone.

Today on this third anniversary of his death I am grateful for my feeling...for my tending to my own heart...and for learning how not to put things in boxes and place them on the shelf. I am grateful for my connection to my father and the qualities of love and life that we share. I am grateful to be his daughter. I am grateful to have shared moments of joy and celebration with him...on the mountain, on the beach...I will never forget our Cabo booze cruise and snorkeling trip or wandering around in the Deschutes forest teaching him to find and cut his first Christmas tree at age 58!

So it is on this day that I will find a place in nature and make my amends to my father, Edward "Ted" Ellis Coman. I will share with him the ways I hurt and harmed him and ask him how I can heal this now. I will listen and be present...maybe he will show up...I am guessing he will...in Spirit...of course Mt. Bachelor doesn't have enough snow for him to be skiing....not yet anyways!

Dad, I love you, I bless you, I forgive you, peace be with you. Amen.