Page 66 of Must Love Flowers
What Mary Lou said was true. Joan had been foolish to wait as long as she did. In retrospect, Joan wasn’t sure what had kept her away, other than her own stubbornness. In reality, the group session hadn’t been all that different from the private counseling. Dr. O’Brien’s main role was to listen and ask an occasional question. Only rarely did she add a comment. The counselor was there to monitor the group, but she let those attending do the talking. The goal was for each one to find their own path to healing, helping one another.
Confession time. “I didn’t want to attend the group session because I was afraid,” Joan admitted. “I feared I wouldn’t be able to bear hearing about who others had lost. I had trouble dealing with my own grief, let alone anyone else’s.”
“It isn’t like that,” Mary Lou commented.
It wasn’t until she’d attended the group session that Joan realized it.
A minute later, she waved her friend off and headed to where she’d parked her car. She noticed Phil’s Tesla remained in the lot, which was mostly empty now.
“Hey, Joan,” he said, coming toward her. “Good to have you join us.”
“Thanks. I enjoyed the banter, not to mention the sour cream raisin pie.” She pressed her hands against her stomach. She could only imagine how many calories were in that one slice. However many, it was worth every single one.
“Don’t tell anyone, I’m addicted to their cherry pie myself,” Phil said.
“Mary Lou and I were talking about Sally wanting to know why I took so long to come to therapy.”
“Sally didn’t mean anything by it,” Phil assured her.
“I don’t know that I would ever have found the courage if not for Dr. O’Brien.”
“Over the years,” Phil said, “I’ve come to believe that God’s timing is perfect. You arrived at precisely the time that was right for you. When you made the appointment to see Dr. O’Brien, you were ready.”
“You’re right. The timing was perfect. I’ve struggled not to cry, but seeing others feel free to display their emotions has helped.” When Sherry mentioned the loss of her son in a recent session, Joan hadn’t been able to hold back tears. He’d been in the military and was killed in a training exercise.
“None of us worry about displaying our pain,” Phil said. “We all do at one time or another. Tears, I’ve learned, can be cleansing, a release. For myself, they were the roadway that led to healing.”
Joan briefly lowered her head, as if confessing to a fault. “I didn’t cry for a long time after Jared died. Don’t get me wrong, I wept a river of tears in the months that followed, but not in the beginning.”
Phil held her gaze, his eyes warm and sympathetic. “I believe it, especially when the one we love is gone without warning, in a split second of time, it takes our hearts a while to absorb the shock of it.”
Joan agreed. “For the longest time, I couldn’t accept that he wasn’t at my side the way he had been all the years we were married.”
“That’s understandable, Joan. I think what you experienced is fairly common. I know it was with me, and we aren’t alone. Time and again I’ve heard others in the group say the same thing.”
Joan found his words reassuring.
“Sadly, some of us never find the courage to move forward.”
Joan felt the wisdom of his words. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“You so often mention needing to get home because dinner’s on the table, but you haven’t said anything about your wife. Is there a reason she doesn’t attend the group with you? I’d really enjoy meeting her.”
The shocked look that came over him stunned Joan. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”
“My wife?” he repeated. “I’m not married.”
“You’re not…I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” Joan didn’t know what to say. “Did your wife die?” He’d never mentioned whom he’d lost, and Joan had been left to speculate.
“It isn’t my wife I’m heading home to see,” Phil explained. “It’s my dad. He lives with me and does all the cooking. Amanda’s mother and I divorced years ago.”
“Amanda?”
“My daughter. She died five years ago in a car crash.”
Chapter 24
