“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.
“You going to order pie?” Mary Lou asked Joan.
“I’m considering it.”
“If you do, I will, too.”
That was all the encouragement Joan needed. Before she had second thoughts, she added a slice of sour cream raisin pie to her order.
The discussion around the table was lively and friendly. An outsider would never guess they were part of a grief therapy group. They laughed and shared jokes, and when Sally started to cry, there were words of encouragement. Both Mary Lou and Joan had mentioned their sons, and after finishing off a slice of apple pie, Glenn mentioned his daughter, who hadn’t dealt well with her mother’s death. That led to a whole other discussion.
Before Joan realized it an hour had passed. It felt like fifteen minutes. She was happy Mary Lou had encouraged her to join the others. If she’d declined, she would have missed this bonding time and the laughter. No one seemed willing to let Glenn forget that blow-up unicorn.
Mary Lou walked with her into the parking lot. “I’m so happy you’re part of this group. You know Sally didn’t mean anything by questioning why it took you so long.”
“I know. I didn’t take offense.”
“Good. Is the group what you expected?”
“Not at all,” Joan told her.
“How so?”
“Well, for one thing, I didn’t expect to laugh so much. I completely understand what led Glenn to buying sardines, but that inflatable unicorn got to me.”
“There’ve been sessions when we laugh more than we cry. This group is the one place where we can share our feelings without judgment or regret. We’ve all survived a body blow that has left us weak and lost. Together we’re finding a way back.”
“I am, too.”
What Mary Lou said was true. Joan had been foolish to wait as long as she did. In retrospect, Joan wasn’t sure what had kept her away, other than her own stubbornness. In reality, the group session hadn’t been all that different from the private counseling. Dr. O’Brien’s main role was to listen and ask an occasional question. Only rarely did she add a comment. The counselor was there to monitor the group, but she let those attending do the talking. The goal was for each one to find their own path to healing, helping one another.
Confession time. “I didn’t want to attend the group session because I was afraid,” Joan admitted. “I feared I wouldn’t be able to bear hearing about who others had lost. I had trouble dealing with my own grief, let alone anyone else’s.”
“It isn’t like that,” Mary Lou commented.
It wasn’t until she’d attended the group session that Joan realized it.
A minute later, she waved her friend off and headed to where she’d parked her car. She noticed Phil’s Tesla remained in the lot, which was mostly empty now.
“Hey, Joan,” he said, coming toward her. “Good to have you join us.”
“Thanks. I enjoyed the banter, not to mention the sour cream raisin pie.” She pressed her hands against her stomach. She could only imagine how many calories were in that one slice. However many, it was worth every single one.