Monday night was the first night the support group met in two months because the last meeting would have been scheduled for Christmas Eve. It was the first time in a long time, perhaps since the last meeting, that I told the story of what happened on June 28th. I realized I needed to tell that story. I don't want life to just continue as if nothing happened. I don't want to erase him but that is what it feels like I am doing.
Each day in my e-mail inbox I receive the Daily Grief Support from Chelsea. I have no idea who Chelsea is. It is a service the Funeral Home offers. I like to receive them even when I don't read them. Chelsea has been a bit too chipper for me these last couple of weeks. On Day 179, Chelsea wrote:
"When you turn around negative thoughts, the new thoughts may seem foreign, but continue to work on filling your mind with thoughts of where you want to be."Chelsea has been schooled in CBT. My issue with using CBT with grief is that grief is not a disorder really. If I want to swim in negative thoughts, I will. That's grief.
That's OK. I am glad Chelsea writes me an email everyday. She is trying. Of course, Chelsea has no idea who I am. She is in reality a computer program. The nice thing about computer-generated e-mail services is that they keep in touch and they don't require a response.
Life goes on. People need me to do stuff. But Chelsea realizes that I am at day 179 of 365. I am still on her grief calendar. Actually, I am a bit farther along than day 179. I didn't subscribe to the service until at least a month after Zach's death. I dread day 365 when I no longer will hear from Chelsea. My grief may outlast even her.