grief retreat

 

When people asked us why we were flying to San Diego in the middle of a school week, we said it was for a "grief retreat".

It was so much easier than saying it's like a "Make A Wish" trip for dying parents, but if your parent already died you can still go.

I cannot say enough beautiful things about our time at Inheritance of Hope. There were group sessions for every age group, free food, heated pools, sea kayaking, jewelry making, egg throwing, a trip to an amusement park, seaside dinners, dance parties, games, love and so much understanding.

Oh - and ducks. I would be remiss if I did not mention the ducks Nika grew so fond of - she named them Genevieve and Ferdinand and they truly took a liking to her, even following her into the pool one night so they could take an evening swim.

We were a "gold family". This means that the person with the illness had already passed away and couldn't make the trip with us. Ruby families were able to travel with their person and make some memories together. Some people registered as ruby families, but ended up in our group anyway. 

I'll be honest. I thought it would be horribly painful to see people who still had their spouses with them - so painful, that I almost reconsidered the whole trip.

It was painful - but not in the way we thought.

After the first day of sessions and games and dinner and ducks, the kids and I retired to our room at the resort. We were happily exhausted until one of them, removing their gold lanyard said, "Do you know what these colors mean?" We all became uncharacteristically quiet and nodded. The youngest said, "I feel so bad for the ruby people."

We all nodded silently.

We had survived the fire - they were still walking towards it - some of them precariously close.

No one in our gold groups said, "I wish I had a ruby ribbon". 

No one.

But - regardless, we were all there for the same reasons - to build memories and to celebrate the families that we are, were, and are going to become.

We all got invited to Maui, I did the splits in front of 100 strangers, we ate jalapeño pretzels, visited a beluga whale, gave and received over 50 hugs, talked to Rico every day, saw a wild dolphin jumping and spent approximately $47 dollars on duck food, which Nika insists was worth every penny.

I learned that most other people haven't thrown out the old shampoo bottles yet either.  Most people are ok, when their kids are ok. Most people let their kids sleep in their bed whenever they want. Most people cry over the little things. Most people still talk to their spouse in the car on the way home from the grocery store.  Most people aren't that different from me.

But, most people didn't get the same ending that Rico and I did. Not everyone held the love of their lives until their very last breath. Not everyone had that honor, that privilege. Not everyone was surrounded by people who held them up and wouldn't let them fall. 

So I learned that while most people are a lot like us - I still think we are the luckiest, because his love showed us how to live, shows us how to keep living - really living, even when we can't hear him cheering us on.