I laughed and shook my head. He’d opted out of the program last year, and I’d let it slide, even though many of his peers were already driving by now. “You know it’s an important skill to have. You don’t want your old man carting your butt around all the time, do you?”
His eyes widened briefly in horror. “That’s what my bike is for.”
“Not in the winter months,” I countered. The snow would be piling up before we knew it.
“You’re right. I’ll ask Ellie where she signed up for driving school.” He sighed. “NYU is too far anyway.”
I frowned. “A discussion for another time.”
An hour later, I was in my car, driving to the community center in University Heights, where the grief group held its meetings. I parked, then entered the building, walking alongside an older gentleman who’d attended the meetings about as long as me. As usual, the chairs were already arranged in a circle so we could all see each other and interact when warranted.
I made small talk with a few of the attendees as we waited for Judy to pour herself a cup of coffee and begin the session. Marcus was running late, and by the time he arrived and sat in the empty seat across from me, Judy was already on her way to discussing tonight’s topic, which was coping with grief through the holidays. I barely remembered the first season without Rebecca, except that it was awful and Grant had made me promise not to drag the tree out of the box. I had no idea how this year would go, but at least most of the fog had lifted. Marcus had shared a similar story with me about his first holiday without Carmen.
I glanced at him. He looked like he’d gone home to change after work because he didn’t have any varnish stains on his shirt or dust on his jeans from sanding something or other. His hair looked a bit damp, especially where his dark locks curled near his ears. He was a handsome guy, getting plenty of admiring looks from ladies whenever we met in public.
His smile was dazzling, and when his light-brown eyes met mine across the room and that charming grin stretched his lips, I sat back, feeling a bit more settled. Like we were in fucking grade school and my best friend had just shown up to lunch, so I didn’t have to go through it alone.
That line of thinking only reminded me of Grant’s difficulties early on, some involving sitting solo with his lunchbox, which made my gut churn. I thrust it from my mind and tuned back into the conversation, even offering up the suggestion that it’s all right to miss out on decorating or celebrations if it’s too painful. Judy concurred and then transitioned to a different topic.
“Tonight is a special milestone for some of you,” Judy said. It was strange to be on a first-name basis with the therapist, but that was how she ran the group, perhaps to give it a more intimate feel, given what we shared in here. “There are several in this group who’ve been attending consistently for a year. That means you’ve hung in there and worked through your grief. That deserves a round of applause.”
The group erupted in noise as we clapped for one another. I blinked repeatedly, suddenly feeling emotional. It was surreal to think that I’d gotten to know the people in this room because they’d also lost a significant person in their lives. Whether they were spouses by law or in name only, we’d all shared our tears, gut-wrenching pain, and deep-seated fears about the future.
“Some of you might think my announcement means it’s time to leave the group, that you’ve been here long enough,” Judy said, making eye contact with each person in the circle. “But remember, no one can dictate how long or how much you’re allowed to grieve. It’s always all right to ask for more time or help.”
A collective murmur went around the room, and when my gaze met Marcus’s, he seemed a bit emotional and disconcerted as well.
“Let’s share some of our small victories,” she suggested. It was a phrase she used often to encourage us to point out the seemingly inconsequential things that helped in our growth. “One at a time, so we don’t talk over each other.”
One of the men admitted he’d stopped listening to his wife’s last cell message on repeat, and a woman had finally cleaned out a closet and donated the clothes to the needy.
“Remember,” Judy said, specifically looking to new group members, “those things are natural and make you feel closer to the person you lost. But, they might also hold you back, keep you from moving forward. You need to decide when the right time is for you to compartmentalize them. That doesn’t mean you have to stop looking at or touching things that remind you of them. It just means you need to choose a dedicated time and a day for them, and stick to it so other things in your life aren’t neglected.”