I went to a Bereavement Group meeting this evening, just to see what it was like. I had gone to a workshop on bereavement before Christmas, and had been told about this group there, so I thought I'd give it a go.
We sat round on comfy chairs and cushions. I felt rather tense but didn't know why. I thought I'd reserve judgement and listen to what people had to say. One lady started off by introducing herself and then talking about what her first Christmas was like without her husband. While she was talking, however, a strange thing happened. The lady next to her (where are all the men? But that's a different story) started hyperventilating. Then she started to simultaneously cry and have a panic attack. Now, before I could think this was going from bad to weird, she started pointing out of the window. We all (naturally) turned to have a look. It was dark outside but one window that we could see opposite was lit up. It was a bathroom. This lady kept saying "Why don't they keep the blinds pulled down? Pull the blinds down! Pull the blinds down!" By this time she was bright red in the face and breathing noisily. Someone got her some water and the group faciltator told her to breathe, deeply, slowly. It turns out she had seen someone naked in the bathroom opposite. Now, how many bereavement groups do you know of, that have started off with an event like that?
The next lady also talked about her recent loss of her husband from cancer. So did the next one. And the next. And then it came to me. I felt somewhat embarrassed at being the only one there who had lost a parent (my mum) so I stared and mumbled into my glass of water about having lost the person who gave birth to me. When we went round the group further and I heard other people's stories, I realised that the experience of losing a partner or spouse is quite different to that of losing a parent. Although there are similarities,most of the widows (and I would guess, widowers) did everything for and with their partner, and now they find themselves still cooking for two, a year or more after the death. My mum cooked for me so and I find myself (like today) hanging out in Macdonald's a bit more than I would like. No one else this evening talked about doing that. So I kept stumm about it.
Some people cried with shock as their loss was very recent. I felt quite vulnerable everyone looking at you as you talked, but at the same time it was companionable. The atmosphere is difficult to explain. The group facilitator helps you out if you are struggling for words. It is a nice but scary atmosphere. Some people talked about how family members had accused them of not staying in touch. Which I don't think is quite on because they are the ones who are supposed to stay in touch with you in your bereavement and hour of need I would have thought.
The other facilitator, also a counsellor, had lovely dark but haunted eyes, as if she had been through several lifetimes in one.
As I write this I am honestly not sure if I am going again, mainly because of the preponderance of widows, but it was an interesting experience. They meet for six sessions. Wonder what the other sessions will be like?
I'll never know if I don't go ....
Persephone.
