I am still
going to the VNS bereavement group, three-plus years after Jack died. I’m fine,
but there is something about being in a group of people who share the same
experience—in this case, grief at losing a spouse, partner, or close family
member—that is unlike any other relationship.
The group
met this morning, and afterwards I went to lunch with two other members, A.,
whose husband had Parkinson’s and died after complications after a fall, and
C., whose father, mother, and sister (her entire family) all died within the
past few years, the mother and sister within four months of each other. A. is
close to my age, mid-70s, while C. is around 50.
During our
long lunch and conversation, I related the circumstances around Jack’s death: his
fall, complications, hospitalization after edema for unknown reasons, multiple
myeloma diagnosis, more complications, and his ultimate decision to stop
treatment and go into hospice, dying just five days later.
As I
related the sequence of events, especially my extremely mixed feelings about
Jack’s decision, my great reluctance to lose him, yet my understanding that the
decision was his to make and that I shouldn’t, couldn’t force him to continue
living in a way he couldn’t accept, I started crying. This was such a terrible
moment for both of us, and I’ve gone over it so many times since, while Jack,
of course, is unable to second-guess himself.
A. and C.
were so comforting and so reassuring, and I knew that they understood my
feelings in a way that someone who hasn’t been through this experience can only
imagine. This is why I keep going to the bereavement group.
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I’m
participating in the 12th annual Slice of Life Challenge over at Two
Writing Teachers. This is day 1 of the 31-day
challenge. It’s not too late to make space for daily writing in a
community that is encouraging, enthusiastic, and eager to read what you have to
slice about. Join in!
