Hug-ee-poo

It’s ba-a-a-a-ack!
My grief-share ended a little over a month ago.
It ended October 10th; today is November 15th.
When I first attended in July, I was the most recent bereavement.
My beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17th, 2012.
I was devastated and heartbroken.
I felt different and out-of-it, like others in attendance weren’t in the same condition as me.
Another was fairly recent, January, but they all seemed in better shape than me.
Then toward the end a girl showed up who’d lost her young husband to a heart-attack in July.
Suddenly I was no longer the most recent bereavement. Obviously the girl was devastated and heartbroken.
I could imagine her pain.
As the grief-share ended I felt positive. I didn’t at first. We were a pretty good group.
The advantage to a grief-share is you’re among others who understand where you are. They know it themselves. Well-meaning friends and relatives, not similarly experienced, often miss the boat.
And so the grief-share ended. It meant I could go back to not abandoning my dog in my house for three hours or more on Wednesday-nights.
But the grief-share resurfaced as a “Hope for the Holidays” gig, one night a month November and December, proceeding Thanksgiving and Christmas.
These holidays can be very difficult for the bereaved.
A special grief-share program had been prepared.
I decided to go. There always is a perfunctory video to watch, which can be interesting, but is like going through the motions.
But we were a pretty good group, there seemed to be benefit in that.
“Holy crap,” I exclaimed when I first saw the group.
Rows of chairs had been arrayed in a small conference-room, and many therein were unfamiliar faces.
“There’s no Holy crap here,” a facilitator explained. The grief-share is church affiliated.
Among those present were newer faces even more recently bereaved.
They were obviously devastated and heartbroken.
“Please share your stories,” a facilitator said.
When they got around to me, like most I was speechless and lost.
Finally “my wife died in April, but compared to what I’ve heard I feel like I have it easy.”
I suppose this is a function of healing. Almost seven months had passed, and I no longer feel devastated and heartbroken.
I get depressed recalling my loss, and certain thoughts, especially if verbalized, can cause crying.
The lady who lost her husband in January was sitting beside me, and she had brought along her teenaged daughter.
“I feel like I’m going crazy!” the girl said through tears.
“Don’t worry,” I thought to myself. “It’ll go away over time. I can attest to that.”
“Three months ago I was a wreck,” I said to a facilitator as I walked out.
“Now I’m not.”
She gave me a grandiose hug.