I attended a bereavement facilitator training today in Glendale, California. I've been meaning to attend for awhile, and I finally got to go. Go me! During the training time, we had a mock grief session, in which they asked for volunteers. Turns out, it wasn't a mock session in that we weren't going to be pretending and going through the motions, we were actually going to be going through a real group, but it would be observed. I volunteered, because by this time in my life I'm pretty stoic and good at talking about my losses and the new normals in my life. That stuff I said is all true except the talking part, I'm not very good at talking right now because I have a healing head injury, but thats another story. Each participant goes through their story, and it comes to my turn. I realize that my story telling style is a lot different now. I tell my story, sprinkled with teaching points (for myself and others, as always) and I come to the end, and pass off the mic and apologize for not just sticking with the program and for having an issue just telling my story. The issue I've always had is having to be the stronger person after telling my story. Having to share the silver lining, and the teachable moment. I can't just be the grieving person. The facilitator looks at me with this face of both empathy and perhaps amazement? In my head I am already saying "no, no, no- don't do that, you're supposed to tell me to just grieve, and stay in that space, and thats the healthy way to do things." But no. She shares with me a vision she had while I was speaking. She saw a field of roses. She shared that in her vision, after each loss I encountered, I went outside and planted a yellow rose bush. Eventually, I was able to look outside and see a beautiful field of roses. I was able to see something good come of all I've experienced. As for now, with all I do in both fields I'm in as a nurse and a minister, I'm seeing those roses. My experiences have made way for them, and what a blessing that is.
Gordon Scott