Tonight was our last session, after eight weeks.
There were five in this group, including me. Two widows, one son, one brother and one sister, we are trying to survive our loved ones' suicides. Two gunshots, two hung and one jumped. This group came together as strangers, and tonight we left as friends and newly found support in one another.
We compared life notes, we listened, we shared, we advised. And, amen, we bonded.
I learned a lot about myself, and Glenn in this process, just how different we really were.
I learned that I, too, have a plate that is full and demanding, and that I'm not alone.
I realized that nightmares, sleepless nights, laying alone in bed, anger at the dead, heartache, and the unending questioning is normal.
I acknowledge that everyone grieves differently, and as I need the time and space to mourn my husband, I need to allow people around me to grieve in their own way, too.
I also understand that I will have good days, okay days, and really tough days ahead of me. In fact the journey is far from over, even after 8 months (today).
I continue to know that being honest with myself makes me my best self possible.
I learned along the way that life is temporary, both life's hassles and life's happy times don't last forever.
I also learned that there are people whose hardships are different than mine, and perhaps worse.
My group shared with me that my positive energy (which makes me laugh because I often feel like I am such a downer) is powerful and infectious.
It was an interesting two months, and I only hope for more healing to come from this experience.
I swam today. Going to CW at 5:30a tomorrow.
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