So we went to our first Compassionate Friends meeting yesterday evening. Feelings are mixed but initial impressions were good. We were thoroughly and warmly welcomed by the rather large group of facilitators, given name tags, shown their refreshment table and lending library. We got a good vibe from the leaders, who seemed to have genuine caring and assured us we were in the right place, and wanted to know all about Sarah and how she died.
It actually felt difficult to talk about Sarah. I just was not into dredging it all up. I did not want to get going with the crying, the crazy thoughts, the guilt, the melodrama. I’ve been in a better headspace these last couple of days and I wanted to keep it all a little repressed.
The actual meeting started by sitting in a circle and reciting the Compassionate Friends Creed which talks about how we all walk together in our grief about our children and support each other and so forth. It weirdly reminded me of reciting the Doodlebop Pledge with Sarah back when she was a huge fan of the Doodlebops Show. “We promise to share, we promise to care, all together as a team! Just stick to it, we can do it, we can do anything!” I almost started laughing and I had to control myself.
There were some people in the circle who had lost children very, very recently, like as little as a few weeks or months ago, and I felt so sorry for them. They are probably still in that stage where their unconscious mind is thinking “When my child comes home…” and that’s so painful. Then there’s that stage where you mistakenly think you’re all done grieving, that you’ve really been incredibly resilient and bounced back fast, and how amazing is that? And then the whole situation REALLY hits you. I’ve gone through so many stages.
After the introductory circle, we split off into a “new grievers” mini-group and a little nosh, and there were about 12 parents plus 2 leaders. It always surprises me how many parents of adult children there are in grief groups. I don’t know why it does. Your child is your child forever, even when the child grows up.
Max and I didn’t really talk much in the small group. There was a lot of talk about how accomplished the other dead children were, with Ph.Ds and YouTube followings and extraordinary brilliance and so forth. I just felt like, Sarah had none of those things, but she was still everything to us. The whole world.
I did talk to another mom in the large circle whose son was disabled and also died during a seizure. She showed me a picture of her son, and he had gone to the same pre-school as Sarah, but not at the same time. I really would like to get to know her at the next meeting. She told me that since Sarah’s anniversary month is August, I should bring some pictures of her to the meeting. We plan to go back next month.
The First Year Without Sarah 