A Healing Love

A Healing Love

Tessa looked at her latest sculpture and thought how much Jason would have loved it. Her latest phase was working in metal. It was so different than the clay she had started out in. It was a tough medium. Different metals had different melting points, different tinsel strength and different levels of malleability. Metal wasn't easily cut, shaped or joined. Tessa couldn't help but think that it was similar to this stage in her life.

Nothing in her life was easy. Jason had died a year ago and she was still trying to put the pieces back together. Her art gave her a haven from the ugly realities of life like how to fix the garbage disposal when it broke, how to manage their investments or how to sleep in a King size bed alone.

She didn't have the patience for the mundane things in life like Jason did. He saw them as fun since he spent his days in a research lab. Tessa didn't want to pay the bills, take out the trash and make home repairs. Compared to her work as a studio artist, those tasks weren't just dull, they were torturous.

Jason's work had made it possible for her to work in her studio full time. And over the years she had gained skill and success as an artist. She would be able to support herself modestly on her own, but Jason, of course, had set them up financially for a secure and even pleasurable lifestyle.

Now, after all those years of hard work, saving and investing, he wasn't here to enjoy that pleasurable lifestyle. He wasn't here to grow old with and he wasn't here for any of the milestones that Noah, their twenty-five year old son, would have in his life.

Tessa looked out he window of her studio to see Hannah, her next door neighbor, walking up the drive with a garden basket in her hands.

"Hello! I hope you're in need of some cucumbers and zucchini! The garden is overflowing with them and you must take the obligatory amount as my best friend."

"I really didn't know that was part of the bargain. Perhaps I should reconsider this best friend status you have. Is it really worth having someone you can call on day or night to talk with or cry with? Is it really worth having someone who can shop for hours with me and never buy anything? Is it really worth having someone around who can make me laugh no matter what my mood is?" Tessa tapped her finger on her chin as if really weighing the pros and cons of said friendship.

"Well Tess. What's it going to be? Do you take my vegetables or do I need to start a farmer's market?"

"Oh, alright. Give me the damn vegetables."

They both chuckled.

"Let me see the latest, will ya?"

"Come on in....as if you need an invitation." Tessa waved her hand as if to say ta da in front of her latest sculpture.

The work was abstract, of course, and Hannah didn't have a clue as to what to make of it. Trying to get more clues, Hannah said, "And what is the title of this one?"

Tessa knew her game of trying to guess what the hell it was. "I don't know. What do you think it should be called?"

"Interesting, interesting." Hannah replied as she walked around the work like she was a world class art critic. "Lots of pretty colors and shapes in metal?"

"Yes, but don't you think that is a little to technical of a name?"

"Well, you can always go for the generic title. Sculpture No. 9.....or in your case 909. Honestly, Tessa. Can't you just throw me a bone once in a while? A recognizable heart or rainbow or something or other?"

"I'll bear that in mind for the next one. Want some coffee?"

"Does Scupture No. 9 have metal?"

Tessa poured her a mugful.

They sat at one of the work tables in the studio. Hannah studied her and knew she hadn't been sleeping well from the dark circles under her eyes.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"In total?" Since Jason had died she had a hard time getting all of her sleep at once. It seemed that she needed to wake up every two or three hours. "Five hours."

"Ya know, you have to get like three hours of sleep in a row to get to the good, restorative sleep."

"I know."

"Honey, it seems like it is worse than usual. Is there something going on?"

"It our anniversary this weekend."

"Ah. Sorry."

Tessa breathed a heavy sigh.

Hannah wasn't sure how to breach the subject again. "Tessa, you need to see the doctor. Maybe get a sleep aid. You can't go on like this."

"You aren't going let this go, are you?"

"What do you think?"

"Okay, okay."

Walking into the grief support group, Tessa felt awkward. She was mentally cussing at Hannah and her doctor for pushing her to come here. Her husband had died a year ago. Wasn't she coming a little late to the party? She was greeted by Connie, an older woman, with whom she had spoken with on the phone.

"Hey! You must be Tessa. Welcome. There are coat hooks over on the wall. Help yourself to some refreshments.

"Thanks. Can I help you set up chairs?"

"Sure. There is probably only going to be about eight of us."

An older man walked in.

"Hey Fred. How are you?"

"Fair to midling."

Two women walked in. They hung up their coats and headed for the refreshments.

Another woman walked in and sat down. And a man about my age came in. I took a bottled water from the refreshment table and sat by Connie. After another five minutes Connie surmised that it would just be the seven of us.

"Welcome everybody. Most of you already know who I am. But I'm Connie. I've been leading these grief support groups for about eight years now. I just want to go over a few things before we have everyone introduce themselves to the group. We will meet every Thursday night at 6:30. This is a safe place, meaning that what is said here, stays here. There will usually be refreshments and help yourself. The restrooms are just a few doors down. This isn't school. Anytime you need to get up and move around, go to the restroom or get some refreshments, just go ahead and do so. We will always check in with everyone. You don't have to talk, but I encourage you to share. There's a reason we are all here. One of the best ways to move through our grief is to share our troubles and our progress. I can't tell you how helpful it has been to me to know that there are others going through the same types of feelings.

I lost my husband ten years ago. The grief process is not a straight line. Sometimes, we will be doing great and then something happens to take us back to our hardest feelings. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. I personally think it helps if you have a higher power, but that is just my opinion."

"Debbie, do you want to go next?"

"Okay, what would you like me to say?"

"Maybe your name, what town you come from, maybe a little about yourself, and how long ago you lost your person. Oh, and who that person was to you."

Debbie was maybe sixty with shoulder length brown hair, glasses and a petite frame. "I'm Debbie. I live in Delaware. I'm retired. I'm a Christian and I lost my husband Al two years ago."

Connie interjected that we would just continue around the circle clockwise.

The man that was about my age was next. He was maybe fifty-five, handsome, dark hair, clean shaven with blue eyes. "I'm Mark. I live in Marysville. I'm a retired teacher. I lost my wife nine months ago."

The next man was about seventy-five years old. He was a tall man with thinning dark hair and was clean shaven. "I'm Fred. I live in Delaware. I'm a semi-retired mechanic and I lost my wife three years ago."

The next was a lady who was maybe sixty. She was a little thick waisted, had short wavy hair, and was quick to smile. "I'm Sherry. I live in Delaware. I'm retired and I lost my husband Bruce two years ago."

The next woman was a little larger and about fifty years old. She was very attractive with reddish brown hair, glasses and large earrings. "I'm Darlene. I'm retired. I live in Dublin and I lost my husband four months ago."

Tessa was the last person to introduce herself. She was forty-eight, a curvy lady with brownish blond hair and glasses. "I'm Tessa, I live in Marysville. I am a studio artist and I lost my husband, Jason, a year ago."

Connie, the leader, spoke again. "I was married to my husband Jerry forty-one years. He died somewhat quickly. He went to the hospital with pneumonia and he died eight days later. I never suspected that he wouldn't be coming back home. I remember walking out of the hospital still in shock and thinking that I was single. Sometimes, I really miss him. We sang in church together and he had a beautiful voice."

Fred volunteered, "My wife had a stroke and never recovered from it. She died in hospice eight days later. It is just unreal in the beginning. I come home from work and still expect her to be in the kitchen cooking. It has gotten better with time, but there are always moments that bring up the grief again."

Tessa shared, "Jason fought cancer for three years before he died. He died in hospice. I will finish a sculpture and think 'Jason would love this piece' just to realize my reality again."

Darlene shared, "My husband Mike was on his bicycle when he was hit by a car. He lived for a day before he died. He was an organ donor so the hospital staff lined the corridor out of respect when they wheeled him into surgery for the organ harvesting. For me, I am missing him all the time. And it doesn't feel fair or real."

Sherry volunteered, "It has gotten better with time. But I get overwhelmed sometimes thinking about the plans we had for retirement. Now I'm retired and he's not here to share it with."

Mark shared, "I lost my wife nine months ago. She was driving home from work on a snowy, icy day. She hit some ice and slammed into a utility pole. They said she died instantly. The kids are grown and she is gone and I barely know what to do with myself."

After we talked a little longer, Connie passed out composition notebooks. "Many people find it helpful to journal during their time of grief. You can write about your thoughts, your feelings, whatever. Tonight, we all shared a sense of shock and disbelief. Write about that if it moves you. Write about things that happen during the week that trigger your grief. If you care to, write about things that help you with your grief.

Does anyone have anything else for the group? Who would like to bring refreshments for next week? Sherry volunteered. Okay then, we'll see you next week. Oh, by next week, I will have put together a phone list for everyone. Support doesn't just happen on Thursday night."

I needed to get going so it was almost like a race with Mark for the door. He looked distraught. "Mark, right? Hi, Tessa. Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm just not sure that this will help me."

"Maybe just give it a chance. We've already lost our spouses. What do we have to lose? It can't hurt any more than it does now, right?"

"Yes, well, maybe I'll see you next week. I'm not sure. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

During the drive home, Tessa thought about how much easier it must be for women to share in a group like that. We are programmed to talk about our feelings. Men are programmed to bury them and go it alone. She hoped that Mark and Darlene would be okay. Their losses were so recently. She thought she was a mess now, but there is no way she would ever want to go back to those early months after the death.

The anniversary date came and went. A few times during the day, Tessa thought about the actual wedding day. It was too painful to relive it in a vivid memory so she kept most of those thoughts at bay by staying busy. That night. She slept on Jason's side of the bed.

'Jason, are you watching over me? Why can't I feel you? I just feel alone. Noah helps. He was our heart and soul and he is worried about me. But I am also worried about him.' She didn't know what it was like to lose a parent at the age of twenty-five. Will it damage the rest of his life? Or would he accept it and use the pain to be a stronger person?

Tessa wrote about how the anticipation of the anniversary was worse than the actual anniversary day. She wrote about how she handled herself with kid gloves that day. How she thought of the wedding a few times, but wouldn't let herself relive it in her mind. That would have been too painful.

She ended up making zucchini bread from Hannah's surplus. She decided she would take a loaf to group on Thursday. The cucumbers were made into a cucumber salad that tasted very refreshing in the warm weather. She thought about the group members throughout the week and worried about them. It was easy to see their struggles and their accomplishments while hers remained out of focus.

Tessa brought the zucchini bread on a pedestal plate with butter and a shaker of powdered sugar with small paper plates. Darlene jokingly said she should just take the top of the sugar shaker for a sugar high to lift her spirits. Sherry had brought a peach cobbler and the whole group was engrossed in the refreshment table.

The group member had come in a little bit earlier this week. Darlene and Tessa seemed to have a similar sense of humor so they sat next to each other again. Actually, it seemed like everyone took their same seats as the week before. Connie laughed and said, "I hope you all are doing okay, because I'm just going to sit here and feed my face." The group members laughed as they, themselves, were feeding their faces.

"The one thing I have always found with these groups is they sure know how to cook. Why do you think I've been doing it for so long?" Connie said. "Alright, I suppose we could talk and eat at the same time. "Does anyone have anything to start us off with?"

No one said anything. So, Tessa volunteered that she survived the wedding anniversary. "It's almost as if the anticipation was worse than the actual event."

Connie said, "How did you help yourself make it through the day? The first anniversary of events usually does trigger grief."

"I worked in my studio which is great therapy. I baked the zucchini bread and slept on Jason's side of the bed."

Mark responded, "I play keyboard in a band of retired gentlemen. When I'm playing I am totally removed from my reality."

Tessa knodded her head and said, "I vote for a field trip!" The group nodded and agreed.

Connie said, "What do you play?"

"A wide variety of music. Some oldies from country western and pop. Some current stuff, and some rhythm and blues. Practically anything we can arrange between our instruments."

"Where do you play?" asked Darlene.

"Usually at the Little Brown Jug on Saturday nights. But sometimes we are asked by a community to do a performance at an event."

Connie volunteered, "I sometimes play piano at the church and jazz up the music."

We all laughed. Fred added, "I call her Jerry Lee Lewis." More laughter erupted.

"Did anyone else write in their journal or experience something this week?"

Debbie said, "I quilt. So that is my therapy and escape."

Darlene said, "I was with my children this weekend. They are adults but I still feel like I need to help them with their grief. It's hard when I am dealing with the same feelings."

Sherry said, "I often times tell them I feel the same way. I tell them they can still talk to their Dad. Somehow, I feel that he knows what's in our hearts. And I tell them that he would want us to continue living."

Debbie said, "I finally moved Al's picture into the bedroom. It is too sad to see it all day."

Connie responded, "That will be different for every person. Jerry's pictures never came down. I felt that it would be too hard on the kids to see that change. But your solution makes sense too."

The group continued talking about the deceased's things and how each person was handling them. Some people got rid of things right away. Others held onto them for a long time. There was no right answer.

At the end of the hour, Connie gave the group members the phone number list and the group members all pitched in to return the room back to normal. Tessa had brought tin foil for anyone to take bread home with them. He didn't ask for it, but she wrapped the rest up for Mark and told him to take it home with him. He smiled and thanked her.

Mark and Tessa had parked close to each other. "So, are you playing this Saturday?"

"We are, at the Little Brown Jug. Come on out."

They leaned against their cars as they talked.

"I'm glad you came back."

"Me too. It helps to hear that others are going through the same thing and surviving it."

"Yes, I agree. It helps to know I am not crazy. Let me restate that. It helps to know I am not crazy about my feeling surrounding this."

Mark laughed. "Over the years, I've had to reinvent myself. You know single to married to fatherhood to new job. But nothing has ever effected every single aspect of my life like this has."

"You're right. When I talk to his sister, she'll say, 'I lost him too.' But did she sleep with him, live with him, raise children with him or make love to him. It astounds me how I can't even talk to his family these days. It's like some competition to see who is hurting the worst."

"That's terrible. I'm sorry."

"Yeh, me too. Do you have kids?"

"Yes, a daughter who is twenty-eight and a son who is twenty-five."

"I just have a son who is also twenty-five. We'll have to compare notes sometime. Well, you have my number now if you ever want to talk."

"You can call me as well, if you ever want to talk."

With that, they both left for their homes.

"Give!! Tessa, what is the grief group like?" peppered Hannah.

Sitting over coffee in the studio, Hannah was exasperated by Tessa's lack of detail about the grief group.

"It's nice. We had quite a spread of food this last meeting. I made zucchini bread and Sherry made a peach cobbler. Of course, there is always coffee."

"Okay, that tells me about the refreshments."

"We're actually not supposed to talk about things that are said there."

"Right, I get that. Give me your impressions of the people in the group."

"Okay. The leader is this older, round woman who is very genial and funny. She is very country. There is an older man whose wife died three years ago, I think. I sort of wonder if he comes back for Connie. Debbie, is a fragile looking woman who quilts. There is this fun lady, Darlene, who lost her husband maybe four months ago. He was out on his bicycle and a car hit and killed him. I don't even know how she gets out of bed in the morning. But she is funny. And there is a woman Sherry who brought the peach cobbler. Obviously a good cook, but I don't know much about her. And there is a widower a little older than me who is a retired teacher who is a musician. He's in a band that plays at the Little Brown Jug."

"Really? Do you know the name of the group?"

"No, he didn't say. But he plays keyboard."

"I'll bet it's the Blue and New Notes."

"He said he was playing there on Saturday."

"Yep, they're the Blue and New Notes. They're actually quite good."

"You've heard them play?"

"Yes, but Tim and I were inside because the patio was full. They were playing on the patio and we heard them from the bar. Why don't the three of us go this Saturday?"

"I don't know. When do they start playing?"

"Let me look on my phone......9:00"

"I don't know."

"You can't get that one over on me. I know you are a night owl and 9:00 is barely the beginning of the evening for you."

"Okay. Alright. Let's go. It might be fun."

Saturday night, Tessa fussed with what to wear. It was August and hot out, but the nights were getting cooler. She settled on jeans, a tank top with a big shirt over it and heeled sandals. The pink checked shirt looked good with her light brown hair which she had pulled up.

Tim drove and that meant that Hannah and Tessa could drink as much as they liked. Hannah was a riot when she got drunk. Tessa wasn't sure any more what

she

was drunk. Now a days, she was more of a somber drunk. Before Jason died she was a fun drunk. They got there at 8:30 to try to get a table on the patio. Tim asked for their drink orders, leaving Hannah and Tessa alone to their own devices.