Must Love Flowers(55)

The conversation was friendly as they discussed their week. When there was a short lull, Joan had a question.

“Recently I had an unpleasant discussion with my son. He made a comment that brought me up short.”

Dr. O’Brien leaned toward her. “What was it, Joan?”

“Something I hadn’t thought of until recently.” As difficult as it was to admit, she’d been caught up in her own grief and had ignored her own sons’ feelings. “Nick, my younger son, was concerned that Maggie, the young woman living with me, might be taking advantage of me. Out of the blue he said if his father was alive, he would disapprove.”

“That brings up an excellent point,” Dr. O’Brien said. “Studies show us that sixty-five percent of sons after losing their fathers say it affected them more than any previous loss in their lives.”

“It isn’t only Nick,” Joan added. “I’m afraid my older son, Steve, has withdrawn from me. I feel like I’ve failed him.”

“My son had a hard time when his father passed,” Mary Lou mentioned. Her hands were tightly clasped in her lap, and Joan could see how painful it was for her friend to admit this to the group. “I wanted to help him, but I was so deep into my own grief, I wasn’t much help. He started drinking heavily and ended up with a DUI.” She hung her head as though ashamed, as if her lack of awareness had caused her son to falter.

“You can’t accept blame for your son’s behavior,” Phil said.

“Phil’s right,” Dr. O’Brien added. “Let me ask you a question. What was Mike’s relationship with his father before his death?”

“Not so good. Dennis was a great father, but when Mike was in his teen years, the two repeatedly clashed. For the last part they tended to avoid each other.”

“It’s understandable that a son who had a negative relationship with his father would be left with regrets, guilt, and anger, feelings that can linger for years unless addressed.”

“What can I do for Mike?” Mary Lou asked, her tone pleading.

“Talk to him, ask him to consider getting counseling.”

“I will,” Mary Lou said, and then, looking to Joan, she added, “I appreciate you bringing up your son, Joan. I’ve been hesitant to mention Mike, but you addressing how your relationship has suffered gave me the courage to speak up.”

“I don’t mean to change the subject here, but I’ve got a problem,” Glenn said. “Something is wrong with me.” Glenn appeared to be in his mid-sixties, possibly early seventies. “Lucy always did the shopping, so getting groceries is a whole new experience for me. I made the mistake of going to Costco and came out with a case of sardines and an inflatable unicorn.”

“You must have a fondness for sardines,” Sally said.

Glenn shook his head. “Hate ’em, Lucy was the one who liked sardines. She used to put them on a peanut-butter sandwich. I thought it was disgusting, and here I was purchasing an entire case.”

“Why do you suppose you did that?” Dr. O’Brien asked.

Glenn lowered his head and didn’t answer for a couple painful moments. “I suppose that was my twisted way of admitting how much I miss my wife. I’ve always been my own man. I put on a good front after Lucy died, and I expect the only one I fooled was me.”

Joan could identify. After Jared died, she made his favorite dinner—turkey meatloaf—when she much preferred beef over turkey. At the time, she knew what she was doing and that it would likely end up in the garbage can. It was wasteful, and she’d done it because it made her feel a connection with her dead husband. Silly. Ridiculous. Yet at the time completely necessary for her mental health.

Phil leaned forward and with a smile said, “I don’t think I want to know what prompted you to purchase a blow-up unicorn.”

The entire group laughed.

“That was for the grandkids,” Glenn insisted, laughing himself.

As the session was about to end, Sally addressed Joan. “How long have you been a widow?” she asked.

“Four years.” It felt a whole lot longer, though—a lifetime.

“How come it took you so long to seek help?” she asked, as if she found it difficult to understand Joan’s hesitation.

Joan knew Sally was only curious and didn’t take it personally. “I believe we each come to recognize when it’s time, and I suppose for me it took longer than most. Nevertheless, I’m here now.”

Sally nodded and smiled in understanding.

After the meeting drew to a close, the group gathered together in the parking lot.

“Shari’s?” Glenn asked.

“I like meeting there better than McDonald’s,” Sally said. She looked around the small group for confirmation.

“I’m in,” Phil said.

“Me, too,” Joan added.

Before she climbed into her car, Mary Lou gave her the address to the restaurant. She sent Maggie a text to tell her she’d be later than expected, and if she got home first, to be sure and let Edison out.

By the time she arrived at Shari’s, the others were already in place. They’d pushed two tables together and left a chair empty for Joan, which warmed her. It was a way of saying she was one of them now.

The server came forward with a coffeepot and menus. Joan and Sally ordered tea and the rest of the group had coffee. Several ordered a slice of pie to go with their drinks. The list of pies was impressive, and Joan was tempted.