Today I attended wonderful workshop involving art therapy for grief thanks to our local Hospice of Acadiana. I loved it, but it was very emotional. I didn't know we had to share our pictures and thoughts about our creative outlet with the group. I actually told the leader I didn't want to share. However, by the time the final person shared and we were all wiping our eyes, I asked the facilitator if she would read my thoughts. It was so powerful and such a rush to finally shed some tears. I had not done so since before the funeral which at the time of this post, was 9 days ago.
My Dad will have passed from the physical plane 14 days on Wednesday. Today was the first day I could cry. There was something about hearing other people in the same pain that softened my heart enough to share mine. I knew they could handle it because we were speaking the same language. Like a person in a foriegn country who hugs that lone person who understands, "Where is the bathroom?" It was the feeling of being allowed freedom of my intense, harsh, and powerful experiences and feelings. I welcomed their experience as well. I wanted everyone to keep sharing. They were speaking fo me to, saying the thing I wanted to say but couldn't. Their pain gave voice to mine at the same time. I loved that the emotions bypassed all forms of being proper about how we should feel and worrying about what others think, managing *their* feelings and sensitivities.
I meet with grief counselor tomorrow. Before today I was going to cancel it, but now I can't wait to see what my grief journey has in store. Whether it is a support group or journaling class I want to do it. I see that the support I had during my Father' cancer was pefect. I also see that the support I need to live in a new way going to be different. They say the only way out is through. I am grateful that today it is through tears, finally. At long last, finally.
Even though we may feel alone, we are supported by many beings.