I’ve signed up for a 12-part bereavement support group through my local hospice society. I was all cool with it until they said to bring a photo of Brock to the first meeting: for some reason, that was the saddest part.

I looked through the photo album I gave Isaac this Christmas and chose this picture:

It’s from September 2014. Isaac had just turned one year old, and Brock hadn’t yet been diagnosed with cancer. We’d gone to Vancouver for a weekend to check out the farmers’ markets, expecting to expand our farm operation in the coming years. On the way back to the ferry we’d side-tripped to Whistler for the afternoon. Brock starting feeling sick a month later, and by December we knew he had kidney cancer. I love this picture because it captures our “Before” life.

As part of our first support group meeting, we each introduced ourselves and our lost loved ones, handing around the photographs we’d brought.

The big difference I’ve noticed so far between my “spouses of those with life-shortening cancer” support group and this new bereavement support group (which isn’t limited to only spouses) is that this group is much more structured. There are 12 weekly meetings, with assigned (“suggested”) readings and journal pages to write for each meeting. The reading book is Alan D. Wolfelt’s Understanding Your Grief: Ten Essential Touchstones for Finding Hope and Healing Your Heart. The journal is also by Dr. Wolfelt. (I’m going to plug the Columbia Valley Basin Trust here, because they donate the money to hospice that pays for these journals. Thank you, CVBT!)

I don’t have much to say about the book yet because I’ve only skimmed the first bit. There’s a lot of “soft” language, like “journey,” “companion,” “presence” and “honouring.” Brock would probably roll his eyes. I’m trying to keep an open mind.

I like the structure of these meetings. I was wondering why it felt appropriate, even though it was different from my cancer-spouses’ support group, where we just took turns talking. I think it’s because there has to be an END to support groups. My spouses’ support group membership ended when Brock died. Some people are members for years, but eventually their spouse does (or will) die. There’s a natural end. For those of us who grieve a loved one’s death, that grief will never end. So there’s an artificial end imposed: the end of the book we’re reading together.

While I can’t yet comment on the support group experience itself, since I’m only one meeting in, I would like to say how much I LOVE hospice societies.

Hospice Societies Are Great

I have experienced two hospice societies now, one in the Cowichan (Duncan) and one here in the Columbia Valley (Invermere). In Duncan, I would walk into this calm, quiet space and be offered tea. The volunteer/receptionist would bring me a pot of whatever I wanted, on a little tray with a mug. I could browse the books, read and cry. Whatever I needed.

In Invermere, there is a basket of cozy slippers by the boot rack. I self-served from a fabulous selection of tea, and chose from many large mugs. On the table in the meeting room were two gigantic tins of chocolate-covered cookies (and boxes of Kleenex).

Whenever I’ve visited a hospice office, there’s this feeling of being taken care of. For people who are taking care of others (sick or dying loved ones, children), being offered a hot cup of tea, cookies and hand-knitted slippers is decadent. Often, the kindness and relief is enough to make me cry.

Confidentiality

Obviously there’s a code of confidentiality with support groups. I have no intention of writing anything about the other members of my group(s). But I look foward to sharing my own experiences with you. I’m very aware that death is something unfamiliar and scary to many of us, and I like having you along with me for the journey. It’s comforting if we do it together.