Homicide Cove

When I decided to go for a weekend getaway, I never dreamed I would wake up to crime scene tape scattered over the boat dock less than one hundred yards from the room I had slept peacefully in the night before. I also never thought I would run into someone I knew but here I was with both scenarios true.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Howard Watts and I lost my wife two years ago after a long battle with cancer. Amy was only forty when she passed after a late discovery of breast cancer. We got married young and had one daughter, Christina, who is now in college, but lives in an apartment on her own. Christina worries about me constantly but I resist. I feel it was my place to take care of my daughter and not the other way around.

Christina had stayed by her mother’s side as much as she could, even offering to drop out of school to help take care of her, but Amy and I both insisted that she stay in school and pursue her dreams of becoming a lawyer. Christina had been trying to get me to move on, knowing that would be what her mother would want, but I insisted I wasn’t ready.

Christina had taken advantage of the counseling service offered by the hospice facility that took care of her mother and she felt it helped her cope with the loss. It didn’t take away the sadness and grief, but it helped her to learn to deal with it and move forward with her life.

Christina continually tried to coax me into going to grief counseling or maybe look for a support group. I kept brushing it off, telling her I didn’t need it. I told her I was just fine but everyone around me knew I wasn’t.

Christina said, “Dad, you know mom wouldn’t want you to mope around and be sad. I loved mom too, but I know I still have a lot of life ahead of me and I have to move on. You need to realize you do too. You are still in the prime of your life and you need to try to move ahead. A man in his forties shouldn’t be giving up on life.”

I replied, “Your mother and I were just kids when we got married, we grew up together. How am I supposed to replace that?”

Christina said, “I am not telling you to go out and replace mom and I know that isn’t even possible. I just think a support group, filled with people who have experienced the same things you have, would be helpful for you to move forward.”

I replied, “Christina, you know I am not good at sharing feelings.”

Christina said, “I know and you don’t have to share anything to start with, just go and listen and see if they are saying the same things you are feeling?”

I sat deep in thought for several minutes. The fact that I wasn’t so quick to argue back gave Christina hope, maybe she got through to me. My eyes looked straight ahead but the look was empty and Christina knew our discussion wasn’t over, she knew I was just trying to gather my thoughts.

I finally said, “Okay, I guess I can try it, I just don’t know where to start.”

Christina replied, “The hospice nurse gave me a list of support groups and there is one in your neighborhood. I can get you the name, address and phone number and you can go check it out at your leisure.”

I agreed to check out the place that was close, it was good that I didn’t have to drive all over the place. At least that was what I kept telling myself. The group was named “Living with Grief”. It was a simple enough name and right to the point, a lot like me. I am your right to the point kind of guy, most of the time.

Maybe my daughter was on to something, she was always right, at least that’s what she told me. One thing she wasn’t right about though, I wasn’t in the prime of my life, I was middle aged by most people’s accounting, and getting older every day. At forty-two I had lost the love of my life. I knew all the things I thought were great about Amy, but I didn’t know if I could talk about them in a room full of strangers.

The group met in the basement of a church, it was a local baptist church and I have been there a couple of times. It was in fact the same church where I had the services for Amy. I tried not to think about that and didn’t want to associate the church with the last place I had seen Amy, even though in fact it was.

The meeting place wasn’t anything fancy which was okay with me. I walked down the steps into the entrance and moved into the room where a circle of folding chairs surrounded one chair in the center. I intended to observe at first to decide whether I thought this was for me or not. I quickly understood the chair in the center was a sort of moderator, one guy who presided over the gathering. There were eight people who sat in the chairs in the circle and with me there were nine.

The meeting room was a typical basement in a church, where congregations would have dinners etc. A suspended ceiling with rectangle light fixtures which were filled with forty watt fluorescent bulbs. The stairway had one light fixture that had a bulb too weak to illuminate much, that dimly lit the stairway. The stairs were concrete, covered with worn carpet that had outlived its usefulness and cried silently to be replaced.

From that center chair position, the moderator went around the circle of people and asked each one to introduce themselves to other members. The moderator was named Tom, easy enough for me to remember. Everyone gave their names but I didn’t remember any of them except for the fiery blonde that said her name was Laura. I smiled at her when she said her name, I didn’t know what else to do, I had been out of the dating scene for twenty years.

I knew very well that you learn a lot by just sitting and listening. Each person told their story along with their name as the moderator went around the circle. I learned about each one and I learned that Laura had lost her husband about a year and a half ago, to a massive heart attack.

When the moderator came to me I gave my story just as the others before me had. I stammered a lot not because I was scared. Public speaking was not my thing, not even in this informal setting, even though I flourished in a business setting. I was shaking like a Parkinson patient off his meds and I felt like the walls around me were closing in but somehow I told my story.

I said, “My name is Howard Watts and I watched the love of my life waste away before my very eyes. It wasn’t pleasant, it was pure torture and anyone who has been a witness to cancer will know how cruel it really is.”

I paused for a moment to take a sip of water. My throat was so dry and I needed to collect my thoughts. How much should I tell and does anyone in the group even care or are they being nice so you won’t heckle them when it’s their turn. I had heard some moving stories since I had been here so I thought I could tell mine completely, shortened for time considerations.

I continued, “Amy and I were inseparable until the end. I spent a lot of time at the hospital even though I knew I was losing her. I could feel it, I could feel her slipping away and I was holding on as tight as I could. When her last breath came I was holding her, but I couldn’t keep her here, no matter how tightly I held on. We had done everything together but she would take her last journey without me.”

I could see a tear drop in a few eyes in the circle of people I was surrounded with. I guess I had made an impact and that is saying a lot for a group of people who had all lost their loved ones too. Maybe that made them more empathetic since they had all experienced the same thing.

It had been two years since Amy passed and that seemed about average according to the other stories I was hearing from the group members. They had all said anywhere from a year and a half to four years. After hearing a few more stories, Tom announced it was break time and we all got up and went to the restroom and got drinks before returning for the second half.

Most of us made small talk while we were getting drinks and a few snacks. Some of the women at the church had made cookies and left a stack of the little desert paper plates about the size for maybe two cookies. I took a plate and a couple napkins and a cup of coffee. Laura was in line right in front of me and she turned to me and smiled.

Laura said, “I enjoyed your share, you seem like you are still grieving heavily at the moment.”

I replied, “I will admit it, I am still grieving. I know it is supposed to get easier but I don’t see any signs of that yet.

Laura replied, “It helps to talk it out, maybe you would like to get some coffee sometime and we can talk about our loss?”

I answered, “Okay, I think that would be fine. We can exchange numbers.”

I had answered quickly but I really wasn’t sure how I felt about what was suggested. I felt lonely at times but most of the time it didn’t bother me that much. I had plunged into work after Amy died trying to leave no room for grief. Grief is one of those things that makes its own room and I would discover it was always there lurking in the shadows.

Laura was nice, but I wasn’t sure I was ready. It was a big step and I had been married half my life. Laura convinced me, we all grieve at our own pace according to our own schedule, nobody can do it for you. We made a coffee date later in the week.

We all headed back to the meeting room and Tom was there waiting. I didn’t know what I thought yet, perhaps it was too early to tell. Tom asked the group if anyone needed to talk about anything specific and a few hands went up.

Someone asked about talking to your dead spouse like they were still here. Tom said it was pretty normal and a lot of people find comfort in being able to talk to their former life partner.

Someone asked Tom about his own personal loss.

Tom said, “I usually just listen when I am here but I will share just a little. I was married to my wife for fifty five years and we were always together. I survived Vietnam, the death of many friends, but the death of Carla was the hardest thing I ever went through.”

Laura asked, “What do you think is an appropriate time to wait before moving on with your life with someone else?”

I thought that was probably the question most of the people here at least had in their mind. I wasn’t sure how Tom would answer but the whole room seemed to be waiting for that answer. It may have been one of the most important questions ever asked at any group meeting.