oxygen's Journal

I attended my first 'grief support group meeting' tonight. I’d had a good day and made every effort to go with an open mind as I’d never been to anything like this before. If anything, I was the one who would help facilitate this kind of thing, many, MANY times before. Now I was on the receiving end.

Twelve people in our group. Eleven women, 1 man. Two facilitators. Now what? We gathered in a boardroom-type setting, a lit candle glowing in the center of the table. I was the second person there and the session commenced at 5:30 sharp. After a short welcome by the main facilitator, we were asked to introduce ourselves. I was relieved when she indicated an anti-clockwise sequence, making me the second last one to talk. I listened carefully as each person spoke. My eyes welled up with tears of compassion for every ‘surviving spouse’ as they all told their unique stories of loss. Most of us shed a tear or six, the guy in the group sobbed like a baby. When my turn came, I felt strong & willing to share my story. I gave them the “WHO” and the “WHEN” of my details, but when I was asked ‘how’, I 'lost' it and broke down completely. Out of nowhere. That was it. It seems that, of all the aspects of my story, I just can’t accept THE WAY in which Clive lost his life.

Many conversations and lots of tears later, the meeting was dismissed. I drove home with a lot of food for thought and look forward to what next week will reveal as I try to discover the ‘new me’.

I'VE JUST ADDED THIS, which I forgot to mention in this journal entry when I typed it earlier:
After our session tonight, we all tied various colored ribbons (which we had picked from a basket) onto the wreath that circled the big candle in the center of the table. Finally, in closing, we all joined hands and, in turns, each said the names of our spouses ... and then left. Although there were a few smiles and gentle hugs exchanged afterwards, it seemed like an almost sacred moment as we all went our separate ways.