Closing

Two weeks after Dan died I was driving to Doughy Center for grieving children and families.  I called them a week or so earlier "My husband just died, I have a seven year old daughter, I don't know what to do" They gave me some helpful hints for the funeral and scheduled us to go to the next available support group. That's what I was driving to, it was January, it was dark.  We went early for an orientation. The director asked Baby Girl if she knew what this place was for. I answered for her, something to the effect that it was a special place where only kids who have had a mommy or daddy die get to come and play. Baby Girl was impressed with the cool toys.

When the group started the adults went upstairs and the kids went downstairs. The kids played, the adults talked.  The adult room was just a carpeted room with soft lighting and 10 ish rocking chairs. The rocking chairs are genius, motion helps calm you. Much like an AA meeting the adults go around the circle and introduce themselves and why they're here for example "Hi my name is Sally, my husband died of cancer a year ago. I have two kids downstairs." They went around the circle and came to me. I was already panicked, I couldn't breathe, tears were gushing out of my eyes, I can't do this, I can't say it. I managed to get the words out through cries "My name is Jenny, I have a seven year old daughter. My husband died two weeks ago, he just died, I don't know what to do" and I started sobbing. I remember several shocked "oooooooooo's" and a "two weeks ago, only two weeks, how did you even make it here?" I don't know. I don't know how I got here, literally and metaphorically, but I was here.

That was almost three and a half years ago. Every other week for three and a half years I drove us to Doughy Center. The first year or so Baby Girl cried and screamed and kicked the back of my seat the entire way. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to acknowledge she was different in any way. She didn't want to admit her daddy died and she didn't want to talk about it. The second year she went without the kicking and screaming, just begrudgingly. The third year she almost enjoyed going. I on the other hand loved it from the beginning. It was so therapeutic. I was sad it was only every other week instead of every single day. I could have gone that much. It was amazing to get other parents perspective and insight. Someone else to say 'ya my kid won't leave my side either, not even for the bathroom.' 'no my kid doesn't rage like that but you handled it very well.'  Support, I was not alone in this. There were other people my age, with kids my child's age, who also had dead spouses.

From time to time other families would 'close' with Doughy. Closing essentially means moving on except we in the grief world hate the term moving on. Closing is when you decided you don't need to come to Doughy anymore. You say goodbye to everyone. When families would close I almost thought they were nuts. How can they, how can they be ok not coming anymore, I am coming for the rest of my life, I am making Baby Girl come for the rest of her life. I need these people.

I mentioned in a previous blog that I have been sleeping a lot better lately. Just all of a sudden I was able to sleep. At the same time I thought 'maybe we won't do Doughy next year, maybe we are ok now' and then the next thought was 'ahhhhhhhh no what am I thinking, I can't stop going to Doughy I need this support.' yet I still kept thinking, we don't need to go next year (Doughy runs on the school calendar). Two weeks ago on our way to Doughy I brought it up with Baby Girl "so I was thinking maybe we won't do Doughy next year. What do you think?" I should have seen this coming, "o yes mommy yes I don't want to go anymore, can tonight be our last night." I wanted to respond with nope that does it if your that anxious to get out of here then clearly you need it still and we are going next year. But I didn't, instead I said "No we will tell them tonight that our night will be next time. They like to plan and say goodbye."

Last night was our last night at Doughy. They have a little closing ceremony. With the kids each kid gives you a little rock they picked out and they say something nice about you. Then you have a little pile of rocks to take home. It's something like that anyway, I;m not sure on the specifics. Afterward Baby Girl handed me her bag of rocks to hold. I asked her what they were "just rocks" I asked her if she wanted to tell me about each one "nope" again I had the urge to make her keep going next year, the urge to push her to talk about her grief, she doesn't do that though, that is not her way, she is like her daddy not her mommy.

Upstairs with the adults they do something similar, only its just one stone, shaped like a heart. They pass it around and everyone says something nice to you or wishes something nice for you on it. A lot of nice things were said about me. At three and a half years out I was "the oldest" in our group, meaning I had been widowed the longest and coming the longest. Thus a lot of people said thank you for sharing my wisdom. Uh wisdom, I have no wisdom I'm just telling you what it was like for me. However I get what they were conveying, thanks for being here, thanks for talking about your kid, thanks for helping us see it's ok for my kid to act like that too. Thanks for being a part of this group.

I was sad to leave, one of those bittersweet times. I was sad to leave my widow friends, we widows have a serious bond. I do feel like we will be ok, like we don't need to go anymore. Also if I'm totally wrong we can always come back.  There was a new widower at Doughy last night. I have never meet him but we have talked online, we have this dead spouse thing in common and live in the same town.  He was telling the group his story and how he had wanted to come for awhile but the group was full so he was on the waiting list.  Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. The group was full. I was filling it, he got a spot because I was leaving mine. I made an open space. I told him if he got a spot in the room because I was leaving then I was glad to leave so he could have the amazing support I had had. That made me feel good, that told me I made the right choice in leaving. Someone else needs it more then me and now they can have it.


P.S. The Doughy Center for grieving children and families is a nationally acclaimed program. They have a website, pod casts, blogs, all kinds of helpful information. They also have support groups throughout the country based on their model. Check them out. https://www.dougy.org/

I wrote a book about my grief, you can read it here: Carry on Castle