It must be eight weeks or more since I last posted anything. A lot has happened in the meantime. Last week I begin the first of the Grief Support Group sessions. My, how therapeutic they are. I have needed an environment in which I can cry safely, and vent my grief, hurt and pain. They are there in abundance,
People have told me that I will feel anger. But I don't. Sure enough, I wish some things could have been done differently, medically. But as the illness played out, I saw what was coming, and that Di's illness could end only as it did. Even if all her medical attendants had been right on top of things, and acted within minutes, I cannot guarantee that the illness would not have ended as it did. So, I have nothing to feel angry about. The people I feel sorry for are the people in our group, whose loved ones were snatched away suddenly and catastrophically. If there can be any "luck" ins such stations, I have been "lucky", to have had all this time to prepare, and to have been given the opportunity to give back to Di, an act of love, in caring for her in her final illness. I am weeping as I write this. And you know what? I don't care. One needs to weep, and to mourn the layers of losses; to embrace one's grief to be able to deal with it.
The first night of the "group" began very simply. Each person present was asked to come forward, light a candle, and state the name of the person whose loss they were remembering. Not one man present could do it without sobbing. Then, a little later, each person present was asked to describe the circumstances of their loss; how they came to join this unwanted and unsought brotherhood or sisterhood. That was wrenching and tearful. Then everyone's pain was folded into prayer, and blessings of peace and calm requested for all. It was a "heavy night".