I often write journal entries in my head while walking with Lia,
or while driving
I'm not sure when thinking became a mental blog
but now it feels that way
A couple weeks ago I went to a training for facilitating grief groups
I have been procrastinating blogging about it
for the reflection, while needed, is painful
We began the training by sharing our stories
Parents who lost one or two children to murder, drugs, illness, accidents
guilt, pain, anger, and emptiness
people trying to rebuild their lives by giving back
to newly grieving parents or siblings
I forget most of the quotes that seemed memorable at the time
"I would just wish I would hear the back toilet flush," stuck with me.
One of our toilets in Sedro would do a phantom flush and it would always freak us out
wishing it were Lev
then Tony fixed the toilet
When I get around to it I'll look through the facilitator's notebook
and my notes
but it is too raw
For now, I have on my to-do list to call a single mom who came to our last month's group
Her son was killed by a car on his way home from school
age 14
her phone doesn't accept messages
her co-workers told her to stop talking about it
they found it depressing
I got a bunch of books out of the library about how to talk to kids about grief
I was thinking about the story of Lev
that we will tell Liana
for her it will always be a story
of a phantom brother
I wonder at what age she will realize her existence is tied into his absence
he would so love her
she is happy
Lev's friends are graduating this spring
They are doing senior projects
They are painting in the hallways
They are planning for graduation parties
And for college
For their future
He would so love Liana, as we all do
She is so full of love and smiles like sunshine
