Bound

Ryke

June 2013 – Ryke

How did anyone find what they were looking for in this hospital? It was all hallways and doors and elevators that only went to certain floors. Though I'd attended a lot of meetings here over the past year, I still wondered if I was lost as I wound my way through the maze.

The dry erase board with "Bereavement Support Group" scrawled across it confirmed I wasn't lost. I pulled my baseball hat down over my forehead and walked in.

It was mostly the usual suspects: Rose, the 60-ish lady who always brought homemade cookies; Carlos, the young guy who'd nursed both of his parents through losing battles to cancer; and Trace, who no one wanted to sit next to because of his body odor. There were several other faces I recognized, and one I didn't. She sat in one of the padded folding chairs arranged in a circle, and I recognized her expression.

She was trying to decide whether or not to bolt. I'd done the same thing before my first meeting. 'I don't need to be here', I'd told myself. 'These people are all weak, but I'm not.' But something had kept my ass glued to that padded chair. Something in the back of my head that said I'd been telling myself I was okay for more than a year, and I was tired of it. This seemed like a place where it was okay to admit I wasn't.

I never said much at the meetings, but talking wasn't a requirement. I'd told these people what happened to Maggie, and it felt fucking amazing when none of them looked at me with the pity I'd grown used to. None of them asked me how I was feeling. They didn't say anything – just listened. And there was something about listening to them that made me feel a little less fucked up.

"Hey, guys." The shrink who led the group, Kirk, rushed through the door with his worn out leather briefcase in tow. He was a thin guy with his head shaved completely bald. I hadn't figured out yet if he was gay or straight, not that I really gave a shit.

"Anybody want a cookie?" Rose passed around a paper plate layered with chocolate chip cookies as people took seats in the circle of chairs. I sat between Kirk and Carlos, feeling bad for the new girl when Trace flopped down next to her. Hopefully she had a bad sense of smell.

"Hi, I'm Kirk, and I lead this group." He blew out a breath, looking across the circle at the new girl. "Welcome. All I ask is that you introduce yourself, though you're welcome to share more when we go around. We don't judge here. This is a place for support, and everything in this room, including who's here, is confidential."

He looked at me first, and I shifted in my seat. "Hi, I'm Ryke. That's all I've got tonight."

Kirk nodded and looked at Carlos. "Hi, I'm Carlos, and I lost my mom 15 months ago and my dad seven months ago. I'm doing okay." He looked down at his hands. "I started cleaning out the room in my house where I took care of my parents, which was kind of a big deal for me. I hadn't gone in since Dad died."

There was a long pause, and I knew from the strained look on his face that Carlos was trying not to cry. I wondered why. Some dark shit had been shared in this group over the year I'd been coming, and crying wasn't a big deal.

I glanced at the new girl, whose big brown eyes were soft with compassion for Carlos. I'd felt an instant connection with the people here, despite their annoying quirks, and I wondered if she did, too.

"Anything else you'd like to share?" Kirk asked softly. Carlos shook his head and wiped his nose.

The lady next to him, Kathy, started in about her kids and her late husband's kids fighting over his money, and I zoned out. My calf muscles were still throbbing from the brutal workout the trainer had made me do earlier. I was glad tomorrow was an off day.