Somehow, despite all of my years of schooling, I can’t use my own tools to cope with the loss. I’m too close to it; too blind to the mechanisms I teach people all the time to deal with their own problems.
A girl walks in and takes the seat almost directly across from me. She has raven hair and piercing blue eyes, though they’re clouded in sadness. She’s young, probably in her twenties, and has a red-haired little girl clutching her hand by her side. Neither one of them should be in a group for grief counseling.
It shows you how unbiased cancer is. People of all ages, ethnicities, sexual orientations, genders, you name it; we can all be affected by this godforsaken disease.
“Welcome, everyone, and I’m sorry you have to be here. Please, grab a seat and let’s get started.” It’s the same speech we start with every time I’m here. The counselor, Shelly, apologizes to all of us for being here. It’s a small detail I appreciate. It’s honest. She doesn’t try to bullshit everyone into looking on the bright side, preaching the usual ‘They’re not in pain anymore’ motivational speeches.
We’re all still in pain and that’s what this is about. That’s what we focus on.
Everyone takes a turn around the room talking about the people they lost. Somehow, it never gets easier for me to talk about, even after all this time. When Shelly says it’s my turn, I clear my throat and rub my palms over my thighs. The denim of my jeans scratches them, making my hands as itchy and uncomfortable as I feel inside.
“Hi, um, I’m Liam. About six years ago I lost my daughter to Leukemia. She was only five and my life hasn’t been the same since. Emily was my entire world. Now she’s gone, my wife has become my ex-wife, and I’m living in an apartment. Everything is different.” I shrug while the two women sitting beside me lean over, offering comforting hands on my shoulder and thigh in silent condolence.
“I’m so sorry, Liam. It’s not uncommon for cancer to take more than just our sick loved ones from us,” the counselor says. I nod, lost in thought, lost in the memories threatening to swallow me whole. I’m not listening to Shelly anymore, but a small voice speaking up snaps me back to reality.
“Hi, I’m Ava.” She glances around the room as color springs to her cheeks. “I never met my dad. He was sick and died before I was born. Momma keeps pictures of him around the house. I look like him. I wish I met him. I miss him, even though I don’t know him. My new dad is great too. I could really use a sister though.”
“Okay, sweetie, that’s enough.” We all chuckle with the little girl as she shoots a pointed look at her mom.
Shelly clasps her hands together and motions to the raven-haired mom. “In a few weeks, you’ll be back to guest host and share your experience, isn’t that right?”
The woman nods. “Yes, but I think I’ll leave this one home so she doesn’t steal the show.” Everyone politely laughs, and after that I block everyone else out.
The meeting drones on for a while longer, but I’m back in my own head. The flashbacks flicker through my mind, piercing my heart with every image and memory that arises.
Miranda, getting pregnant, how scared we were.
We were young but in love, so we got married.
She gave birth to a beautiful girl. We were happy.
Disney princess birthday parties became what I lived for. Tea parties with stuffed animals. Late night snacks when I got home from work and she was supposed to be sleeping.
The three of us. Together. Happy.
Then everything changed.
The diagnosis. The prognosis.
My world ending.
My life from the last decade flashes before my eyes as if I’m the one dying. There was a time I thought Miranda was it for me, but even without Emily dying, we were two different people. We grew up and grew apart. We never even had the same interests.
I fill a plastic cup with coffee, though I barely even remember walking over here. A gentle tap on my arm has me almost dumping the hot liquid all over myself and the little girl.
“Hi, I’m sorry you lost your daughter. What my momma always tells me to make me feel better, is that Daddy is always with me and watching over me. I’m sure she’s with you too.” I smile and lean down to get to eye level.
“It’s Ava, right?” She nods. “Thank you for that, Ava. I needed to hear that today. Your dad would be proud of you.” She smiles and I stand as her mom walks up behind her.
“Sorry, she really wanted to say something and once she forms an idea, it’s game over. This is her first time at one of these group sessions. She doesn’t know any better.”
“No need to apologize. She’s sweet. I’m sorry for your loss,” I tell her.
She smiles. “I’m sorry for yours too.” She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing as she looks at me. She seems ready to ask me something and her mouth even opens, but we’re interrupted.
“Can we go now? I want ice cream.”
I laugh and they leave. Something about her is familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Once the people clear out and I finish my coffee, toss the cup in the trash, and make my way out. I round the corner and my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out far enough to see the screen, I press the lock button once to silence it.
I haven’t talked to Miranda since her threat to sue me and expose my relationship with Flynn. She doesn’t even know I ended things with Flynn, not yet. But
