Support Group

What?! What?! Oh, I'm here. Sorry. Been in a fog. Doing pretty well.

Tonight, Mary and I decided to check out a support group at a local church. Realizing I couldn't mix therapy with beer saddened me a bit, but I sobered up and prepared myself for some tears and disclosure.

The group included a 62-year old widow, a 50-something widow, a woman mourning her sister, and one guy that was disturbed by the whole thing and left abruptly. We all gave our stories, and listened and supported one another. It was an hour and a half of nose blowing and wadded tissues. One widow seemed to be doing as well as possible, moving on with her life. The 50-something woman, widowed for 7 months, has no joy, nor will she entertain the idea that joy might ever come into her life again. She has sold the couple's vacation home, and has said she doesn't want to make a new life. She wants the old life, with her husband in it. During the last five minutes of the session, one previously quiet woman spoke. She was there because she had lost someone, too. Her dog. In January. I felt for her. Dogs are family. But as she started to wail and rock, I knew I didn't want to feel how she felt next year.

There is no right or wrong way to grieve. I feel for everyone in that circle, and realize that people do the best they can when dealing with death. But I like the healthy approach my mom has. When she addressed the group tonight, she said, "I've got to love myself more. More than my husband, more than our life together. I can't let myself slip away. " She said this with tears and determination. I was so impressed. My mom walked to the car and told me she wasn't sure she gained anything from the group. She might not have, but I did.