What I Learned From a Grief Workshop by Terri Rimmer - originally published by Associated Content, 2007

The past five weeks I have had the privilege of participating in a grief workshop that was offered through a non-profit organization.

It was a great experience and I learned a lot. I was also able to have a little memorial service for my late boyfriend during the last class which was tonight. I never got to attend his memorial service (long story).

There were 11 people who signed up for the workshop but only five of us showed and sadly two dropped out in the middle.

During the first class the teacher had us list kinds of losses like death, friendships, money, jobs, pets, love, laughter; etc.

We all told our stories which were varied yet the same in that we had all experienced all kinds of profound loss and hadn't been able to move forward. For some of us it was way too soon to move forward; for others we didn't know.

We all agreed to confidentiality and formed a little bond among our small group as we discussed our losses and feelings, something some of our families and friends didn't allow us to do or some who thought we should be over our losses by now.

Some of us seemed more wounded than others but in reality we all carried the same wounds. Some of us weren't ready to say good-bye yet. I started out in the workshop with the latter feelings but I soon realized that saying goodbye doesn't mean forgetting. Quite the opposite.

We got a packet and reviewed the grief process which some of us were familiar with, including me. But we also learned about other processes in grief which aren't just limited to the well-known "Five Stage of Grief" by the late Elizabeth Kubler-Ross (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance).

There's another process in grief and that is TEAR (which stands for: to accept the reality of the loss, experiencing the pain of the loss, adjust to the new environment without the lost object, and reinvest in the new reality).

With empathy each of us in the workshop could feel the other's pain and not just sympathize.

Despite what some might think who haven't been through it, grief hurts and it lasts longer than one might think.

We all got assigned to write a goodbye letter to the person or thing we lost and we were to bring our letters back and read them to the group.

Some of us weren't ready to do this. I didn't want to do it but knew I needed to.
We learned about different rituals, ways we could remember our loved ones on a regular basis - without or without others.

We also found out that when dealing with grief issues some old grief might come up from the past.

It just so happened that when I was in the middle of the workshop I found out my best friend of 11 years was moving out of state. Another loss. Then we had a huge falling out and haven't made up though I tried. Yet another loss.

Also, six days before the last day of the workshop I took care of a wild baby bird for my best friend while she was out of town for four days and on the fourth day the bird died. I was disappointed and a little depressed because it seemed the bird was getting better. Kind of like when we grieve at times we might think we're getting better because on the outside we look a little better and are starting to spread our wings much like the bird did a little.

Unfortunately the little bird had a broken leg and couldn't heal from that, much like we as people can't totally heal from our losses.

But despite the fact that the animal died I could know that I took care of her the best I could; however, no matter how well I took care of her I couldn't fix her.

So it is that we as people have to seek outside help sometimes in the way of a grief workshop, therapy, or other support. Sometimes no matter what others try to do for us, they can't help us. So we have to look elsewhere much like the bird who couldn't be fixed.

Sometimes no matter how much we wish it away or deny it's happening as in the death of my late boyfriend from cancer on New Year's Eve 2005, his death happened and no matter how much I want to wake up and see his face, I cannot.

But I can make sure his spirit lives on - in writing, in remembering, in volunteering as I do with the American Cancer Society, and in talking to him in private on my own to myself. I can plant a tree that attracts butterflies in his memory, watch comedy and think of him, do what I can to learn about cancer prevention and educate others, and always, always honor his spirit near me.

Before I started the workshop that wouldn't have comforted me but now having gone through it, it does.

I'd like to thank Reverend Ken Ehrke for bringing this possibility to myself and all who attended his workshop.

And to all who attended - and you know who you are - thank you too for not giving up in the beginning, the middle, and not even the end and for sharing your pain with me and letting me share my stories with you.

I like to think that like that wounded bird we got a little respite from our pain for the temporary time we are here on this earth.

And that we will carry this hope to others, too.