With my experiences I knew to title my future book, "My Very Own Christmas Carol," but since the 30th high school reunion I was thinking about how to write it, but always maintained it had to be about the truth, and so in my mind most was already written, yet so many considerations in what to say.

I was on the internet and a notification popped up on Facebook talking about a Grief Support Group meeting at my church. I decided to check the post out and it was doable, as they met Thursday mornings. It would mean a lack of sleep, but what the hell since my book dealt so much with grief, it also might provide food for thought.

I decided to attend one or two meetings for my own benefit, and to see what it is all about and it wasn't an easy decision because of the Traumatic Brain Injury Support Group meetings which was regarding my mother. We were supposed to attend at least three, but Dad and I decided to quit it after two because everyone was letting us know how lucky they are that their family member was not my mother and that they are glad they are not us.

From home I hiked up to the church and had to find where we met first, figuring that it was in the basement of the church, but they were holding a service and someone pointed the way to the sign. Being about 15 minutes early, I simply enjoyed sitting on a bench in the small garden and contemplating what this will be about.

Turned out the door was open, and I found the room which was in the basement of the rectory. A little while later one lady introduced herself as Laura and for whatever reason found it curious. I simply introduced myself as, "Mike". The older lady also introduced herself.

Then another man walked into the room and the introductions started all over again. I believed he was in his 70's and was a humble and good-hearted man. Time to start and I loved the fact that Laura did sort of a mini service with verse and prayer and it so much reminded me of the vespers we did in scouts.

It was time to start and the man talked first and mentioned his wife had died of cancer three months earlier and that despite preparing for her death, he still cried his eyes out like a baby, but didn't have any thoughts of suicide. I gave him the stink eye and said, "Oh, really?"

He came clean and said the thought entered his mind and he started expressing them. Leave it to me to throw my life out in the room like a hand grenade, and briefly explained my situation of someone I loved that died in high school and my seeking the help of a couple of classmates just around Christmas, and I noticed a reaction.

I then let it be known that my photography teacher told me she didn't want to go out with me. I explained that wasn't want I wanted, as I just wanted the help of a classmate and the teacher didn't listen and lectured me, that using a dead girl is not a way to try to score with a woman. I heard all about his first time and got advice on how to pick up a girl and score with her.

There was a noticeable reaction and I thought, Oh shit! She did introduce herself as Laura (one of the classmates I asked for help) and now you are going to hurt her again. My inclination was to apologize and walk out, but I saw the flash of my cowgal from South Dakota pull her horse's head to her eyes and start screaming. I decided to continue thinking, Well, if she can handle a horse, she can handle me. (The only thing I knew about my classmate after we graduated was that she did competitions with horses.)

I decided to get over it and explained that I hurt two classmates with a nasty letter; not escaping my attention a brief look of shock. I explained the reason I decided to commit suicide was because I was tired of grieving and figured I would either find peace or meet up with Jean. Both had its allure to it. -I saw another tissue get grabbed.

A roommate who had two friends that committed suicide, spotted the signs and intervened. I wasn't happy with deciding not to commit suicide, then realized that it was my soul that wanted to live within me. Last, I explained that I had to learn to live life again and try to find ways so I wouldn't experience this type of grief again or at least be able to cope with it.

Pretty heavy presentation so I ended it with, "No fun going through life knowing you became your own Judas." Everyone laughed.

[Background on the cowgal image. Due to a poetic adventure, after being stranded at O'Hare airport and had to sleep there overnight, because my backpack flipped Baltimore TSA out and made us late. The next morning, in order to get from Chicago to South Dakota, it was east (Ohio), south (Raleigh Durham), west (Denver) and then finally north to South Dakota.

When I arrived, it was nice to be in the car with the cow gal and have a cold beer put between my legs. She welcomed me and said her ranch is at my disposal and anything I want she will do her best to do. I said, "Maybe a couple of horsey lessons?"

"Forget that, there isn't going to be any time for horse lessons, we have five other guests with us." One was a Russian family with two kids and the other was a lady from Chicago. Midweek, she offered a horse ride to the kids and needed me to help her because she had a bum shoulder.

She picked the horse, tacked him and I was to walk it up the hill. "I picked this horse because he is great with children, but he has tender hooves and would let the kids ride him, but not an adult. It was so nice to see the kids have so much fun on a horse being walked.

When it came time, she told me she can't get in the saddle and I will have to get him to the fence so she can take the saddle off. Whoopee ti yi yo, Mike's on a horse! One problem, the horse refused to go forward because of the tender hooves, but the reverse gear was working so I trying to get the horse to navigate to the fence backwards."

She screamed, "What the hell are you doing?!"

"The horse refuses to go forward, so I am trying to get him the fence using the reverse gear."

"Get down!"

She grabs the horses head and pulls it down to face level and screams, "You're not going to pull that crap with me...You know I will deal with you because I am not an idiot like him!"

With her bum shoulder she told me she will need help getting in the saddle, so I walked around behind the horse. "What that hell trying to do? Get yourself killed! You walk around a horse like that and not knowing what's behind, he will kick and kill you."

"Lady, I'm not that lucky!"

"Here's how you do it, you put your hand on the rump and let him know you are there by talking." She put her hand on his rump; - and in a hell of a lot better tone then she had for me, "I'm coming around behind you, with my hand on your rump so you know I am here." Guess I did get my first horsey lesson.

I helped her in the saddle and in total fear that horse exactly did what she wanted him to do. Saddle off and I led him to the pasture's gate, and with the horse in, then she banned me from the horse pasture. However, later in the week, she needed me back in the pasture to be her beast burden to remove the tornado deposited debris that she couldn't carry.

I figured F it, and started to do horse photography, which isn't easy because they were leery of me and kept moving around, and it took me an hour and I was able to arrange all six horses into positions that I wanted and got the horses used to that. My cowgal nicked name me, "Dances with horses," which I felt honored because a portion of, "Dances with Wolves," was filmed there. Yes, I felt like Dumb Bear.

I took that image of her pulling the horse's head down, as symbolism that Laura could handle it just like that cowgal, and handle me if necessary.]

Now it was time for the man to tell his story. It was not only love at first sight, but also a lifelong relationship and marriage. They enjoyed dancing and he said he will never dance again, and I told him, that seems to be the way with me (though my dance was more figurative in nature). I simply stated if a chance to dance comes along, don't deny yourself.

Time for the older lady to take charge and she asked the questions, such as if he has been eating, is he doing chores, and if he has family and friends that are helping? He not only answered them in detail but shed a lot of light about the relationship. Also, he was not afraid to ask questions or for advice. The depth of this group really blew me away.

The older lady mentioned her own story and her husband died from cancer over 30 years ago, yet you can tell she still kept the candle lit. I loved the spirit and grace she seemed to imbue. She also suggested and invited me to attend all six meetings. I let them know I was working on a book and only planned to attend one or two but, then I promised to attend all six.

I had to seriously consider that Laura was indeed that classmate and I had two choices; to stop going, even though I was getting so much out of it, or continue to attend but keep in mind that indeed it could be her, modify my behavior and be more mindful of my delivery. I decided the latter, but not to be overly sensitive, and to remain being myself in order to continue to present what is important in my life and my memories as they exist. When I prayed, I once again saw a flash of my South Dakota cowgal dealing with that horse and took it as a sign everything will be alright.



We started a little late for the second meeting because Laura forgot what day it was and it made me wonder if she was in the house she grew up in, but it could be she was at church or the school as she worked there. In the meantime, the older lady explained she is so busy with the church, she loses all sense of day and time. I laughed, as with my shift, the same happens to me.

Once inside of course I had to be good ole' Mike and try to help out with the set up; and with a five in a half mile an hour pace, came too fast, too quickly and Laura appeared to freak out. So, it was hands in the air and walk backwards slowly for me. While it was an indication that she was that classmate, even if it wasn't, it still hurt because I don't want to be perceived as a person like that.

It was noted by the older lady that I brought notes, and both were sort of amused at the unusual nature of that and I told her so I could remind myself about some of the things I wanted to discuss, as well ideas I wanted to present. I went for my coffee and I noticed that Laura had observed that my hand was shaking, and I was embarrassed at my nervousness.

For the rest of the meeting, I elevated my situational awareness and made sure to Ninja my coffee to my mouth when no one was looking; I had to use two hands to drink it. The rest of the meeting was sort of a review to make sure the man was taken care of as well still had family in his life.

The man talked about removing of his wife's effects from the apartment and how he copes with her loss, as well the older lady discussing how she had dealt with the loss of her husband. Laura mentioned that she lived two counties over at one time and in almost in a personal manner, that she is married. I nodded in approval.

The older lady talked about signs that a departed loved one might give you and asked if the man received any, which he said the didn't. I mentioned that I am a paranormal investigator and Laura seemed totally dismissive of that notion.

I then contributed with saying, "In my case, my senior year in high school proved to the worst year of my life, when it is supposed to be the best."

Laura's eyes became fierce and she exclaimed, "Oh, no it's not! Where did you get that one from!" I loved the fact that Laura could throw hand grenades too, but time ran out for me to answer the question. We ended in the usual way of prayer

What cracked me up was Laura and the older woman was cleaning up at the coffee station and being a dreary day; I was donning my drover and brush hat, when Laura got the older lady's attention and pointing me out said, "Mike's wearing a long coat with shorts." Yeah, I know what the implication was, and it cracked me up as well, made me feel more comfortable with the whole situation.

On my walk home, I had the answer about the senior year being the best of your life, "I swallowed Mr. Pfeiffer's Kool-Aid? He was the principle of Parkville Sr. High and he really believed it and did his best to make it so. Also, it was my parents' best years and to them; the only thing that topped it was them falling in love and getting married. They always attended each other's reunions and I never heard them talking about other people's attitudes or telling of experiences like a few that I have had.

As I was walked home, I couldn't explain why my hands were still shaking because the apprehension and nervousness passed a long time before. Once home, I did my usual which was about a half hour of internet and a couple of drinks before I go to bed. I noticed how my hands stopped shaking, which to me, wasn't a good sign.



To be on the safe side, about an hour before the third meeting I took a couple of shots of whiskey and it worked and I knew that wasn't a good thing either, but glad it did the trick. Another man joined the grief support group and it was his turn; - You kind of got the feeling not to interrupt. "This is my story and I am going to tell it..." He too was a love at first sight, best friends as well, a long marriage. They also enjoyed dancing and had a great relationship.

She passed away in a different manner, as she died due to an uncontrollable infection, as well complications in dealing with it and he broke down a little in talking about it. When he was finished, he stated, "That's my story!" He also mentioned that he had suicidal thoughts and my contribution was handled differently, but just as effectively and in deference to Laura.

Then the older lady took over and when it came to eating, he said, "Well my wife wouldn't allow me in the kitchen when she was there, and she did everything." More time was spent to see if he was taking care of himself and he generally was purchasing prepared food at the grocery store and a sub shop.

The conversation turned to navigating the kitchen and he learned how to load the dishwasher because he read the manual and talked about his having a salad making machine. I suggested he go to the internet and type in what he likes to eat, or the ingredients he likes, because I love to cook and do a lot of research. He didn't seem that was the best way to go for him.

Somewhere along the line Laura slipped to me she had three children and I nodded with approval and inwardly thought, I want to play too! To my surprise the topic of their spouses came quickly and hoped my look of the Child Catcher from Chitty Chity Bang Bang wasn't noticed. It was a three-way conversation between the two men and the older woman. Tell you what, I loved each story that was told and what it meant to them, be it what their spouse added to the relationship or how it benefitted them. Also, about other members of the family or in the older woman's case, how she had to adapt to single handedly raise her family.

Now it was my turn! "Have to tell everyone here, I am jealous. I can quickly sum up my family. 'I was that guy!' Something told me to look out the window and I saw four police cars pull up in front of my house and all I could say is, 'Oh shit, they're all female."

I got stuck in my living room with four well-armed, but very insecure police officers because they were trying to explain to me that I am a victim of domestic abuse. I kept my mouth shut because all I could think to say was, "This is as useless as teats on a bull."

I said, "What if I admit I am a victim of abuse?"

"That would be a good start."

My next question was, "The next question is, what do I do next?"

"Flee the house." I explained why I can't and won't do that and they told me my life is in danger.

Two of the officers were out of uniform and discovered my wife in a bar with another man and not realizing that, she sang like a bird and even admitted to trying to kill me.

Directing this to the support group, "Hey, you want to make a whole bunch of police officers make funny faces to each other? When being informed there were poisoning attempts against you, bust out laughing and tell them, 'Hey, she didn't nick name me Rasputin for nothing!'"

The officers suggested that I fight back and even if I punch my wife, they would cover for me. I let the officers know that one wasn't going to be happening, because I only punch in reasonable fear of my life, and those fights end in less than two seconds. I told them, the vows I took, and my obligation is also to her children.

I finished up with, "The end of that marriage, I will never grieve over it." That got a good laugh and concluded, "I don't feel guilt, anger or resentment, because I know I held up my end of those vows."

The topic turned to a discussion between the two men about dancing and what it meant to them, as well what they got out of it. The rest of us stayed quiet and listened. [Personally, I enjoyed all their stories, but also saddened me a little as dancing was not to be part of my life as I wished. I spent over $500.00 to teach my wife to be how to dance to our wedding song, Amazed, by Lonestar, and once on the floor she told me she didn't remember how to dance to the song. I told her just swish to it, and I would guide her a step, swish some more.]

I told them that I too am a dancer, but no one wants to dance with me except on rare occasion. Most often I step on the floor and the ladies step off. I said the worst experience I had was at my 35th reunion and one of my female classmates walked up to me and said, "You're going to keep your fucking ass off that dance floor!"

I saw an unexpected twinge of anger in Laura as the rest seemed disdained that something like that happened. I did mention that I did make it on the dance floor, but with my camera. Perhaps the nature of a photographer is to be left out, so he gets to work capturing everyone's enjoyment, but that is also a photographer's responsibility and often their love.

Other discussions entered in and I said one of the hardest things I had to do was to attend my high school reunion, but it took a path of steppingstones to get me there. I told them, "I really wanted nothing to do with the class of 83, as I had enough by the time I graduated. Then I decided to join Facebook and within thirty seconds, it suggested I send friend requests to the following people; both of the girls I had bothered and two others that told me they hated my guts and would make sure the rest of the class did to,"

"I put my cursor over the, 'Send friend requests to all,' and put my finger over the mouse button, and it made me feel like I was sitting at the desk of the President of the United States and wondering, 'if pressing it will really'," and older lady and I spoke in unison, 'Start World War III!'" I think Laura had the look of astonishment.

I continued to explain that, I didn't expect that and decided not to send Facebook requests to any woman, that they would have to friend request me. Also, surprised how many class members signed on as Facebook friends and a few of us became close friends.

I mentioned that there was a mini reunion and would use it as a test and it was more like an elementary school reunion that I appreciated very much. I still didn't have confidence or desire in going to the 30th reunion but many of my classmates from Facebook, sort of expected me to attend. I the let grief support group know that right off the bat, something stupid happened and spent most of my reunion, outside, smoking cigarettes, and crying because I missed Jean. I told them, "Jean was the one person I didn't want to bring with me that night."

The second man talked about his wife a bit and said that he made a little shrine in the garden for her and described it; but the first man objected and restated that the first thing he did was to remove most of his wife's articles af clothing and her effects; and he absolutely objected in regards to enshrining, and that he just didn't believe in it.

The ladies stepped in and explained whether to enshrine or not to enshrine is a personal choice and there are all kinds of ways that people do it. So to speak, there is no right or wrong. I chimed in, "To enshrine or not to enshrine, that is a personal choice, but all of our departed loved ones are enshrined in our hearts forever, that is how we let God know how valued they were in our lives." Hey, everyone agreed with that one.

When the second man left first, and first man apologized, said he shouldn't have said what he said and that he won't be coming back. The ladies told him he did or said nothing wrong and asked him to come back. But the first man said that he knew the guy was grieving and maybe that is the best thing to do in order to handle his grief and that he shouldn't have thrown cold water on it.

The ladies continued to ask him to come back, and the I said, "Look, what you did wasn't wrong, to enshrine or not to enshrine isn't wrong and the purpose of a good support group is to put out things for all to consider. I have recieved a lot of food for thought, so please come back."

Before the second man left, I had a gift for everyone there as I wanted to share what I loved about life, so I brought in and gave out my saddle stitched book on Parkville Elementary and High School poetry, I was surprised that everyone wanted a copy.

Laura also had made an input earlier as she brought up the book, "On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss," which I found fascinating and while Laura forgot a word that grief is, I sort of followed my logic and said, "A process," and was told that was it. I found the whole thing vaguely familiar and interesting.

I expressed my interest to Laura about the book she mentioned, and she promised to bring it in. I thought of each person in the room and I felt blessed to know each one of them. I recalled the older lady telling me how long she and Laura has been doing the grief support and that every time the dynamics within the group changes and is unique.




With the fourth meeting, I was so happy to see the first man return and it was pretty much a round robin. The older lady asked the men if they have seen a sign and the first man glowed and said that his wife had a plant and for four years could never to get it to bloom and he said that it bloomed, and the lady and first man did consider it a sign.

The older lady said that over the years that she felt she received several and gave a brief lecture on the types and nature of signs, to always be looking for them. I believe I added a little paranormal theory on that, and the second man and Laura simply observed.

Other people told their stories and then it went to food with the first man talking about how he prepares his own lunch and being in a retirement community, dines at one of their restaurants and a discussion ensued about the retirement community. Then the second man talked about his salad making machine and no one heard of one of them, but we had some ideas after his descriptions, and he said he would bring in his machine.

I talked about my memories coming back and how I couldn't accept them at face value, how I investigated them, and ran what I remembered past my best friend in high school because he not only had a photographic memory; but also remembered the date and time, as well other aspects such as environment and psychological factors. I couldn't resist and stated, with the way I have become, I am wondering if John Cochran's mind is a communicable disease. I was surprised to hear an unexpected chuckle from Laura, because the people that don't know or don't know of him don't get it.

Also, by this time, while I can't recognize people, I did study the Laura at school for photography, but never approached her because I never developed a project that could use her. It struck me that the lady sitting next to me shared many of the attributes that I was looking at. If it wasn't her, she was becoming in my mind a close match.

Other people told other stories and I talked about Jean starting with how we met and gave a brief history of the progression of our relationship though the grades. I also stated some weird goings on such as me finding I had a photo groupie who wanted to see, "Mike's Magic Darkroom."

I asked her, "Mike's Magic Darkroom?"

She said, "Yep, Mike's Magic Darkroom, where girl's come out smiling? Something's got to be going on in there?"

When the girls walked out, I had no idea if the smiled or not because I remained in the darkroom, which was also my office. I explained that the only magic that happens in the darkroom is the image coming up on the paper and I was working the next day after school on prints and invited her to watch.

I was fed up with this crap of me having sex with the models, so I taped a sheet of paper to the cabinet, with tape on the other end ready to go. I showed her how we put the negative into the slide, focused it on the easel and did a test to determine the exposure.

Now time for the real deal! Making the print and while I distracted her with what was going on topside, to tape the other side to my pants and once done, looked her in the eyes and said, "Now you are going to find out the secret of Mike's darkroom." She had the most interesting look on her face and with my hands waving in front of my face, "I don't even need to use my hands." I moved my leg and there was loud ripping sound and she fell down and rolled around laughing.

My photo groupie exclaimed something curious to me, "Now I know that nothing is going on here, because you are too funny and they walk out in the smile because of that!" We processed the print and outside as it was washing, so we started talking and she said she couldn't believe that I am not taking advantage of this and I informed her there is someone I love very much and want her in my life, and wouldn't want to do anything to mess that up.

She asked me who she was and I told her I won't tell her because every time when one of us tells someone, people start trying to screw things up with us. I was honest and let her know I wouldn't mind asking one of my models out, but it would take a hell of a lot for me to want to, and it would be regarding enjoying just a little time together, not a relationship. I also said that while I like the girls that model with me and we enjoy our time together, I haven't had enough feelings with them even for that.

I wondered why she looked impressed and she wanted to visit from time to time, and I said that was fine. She did just that. I let our support group know, that when I ran that memory past John, he said, "That was Jean's best friend."

Also telling the support group, "With every name I ran past John a list of remembrance of female classmates that were friendly to me, John would say, 'That's a friend of Jean, that's a friend of Jean, that's a friend of Jean ...' I think without Jean, I just would not have any female classmates, friendly with me."

Too much sugar for me, so I let it be known, "The thing I liked about Jean is how easy I could make her cry." I got instant angry reactions from both the older lady and Laura; while the men might have gotten a handle on me as they seemed to be bereft with minor amusement. I then held my finger in the air and said, "But I loved making Jean cry for all the right reasons; there was something I could touch deep insider her and I think she needed to see it too."

Laura was true to her promises and lent me her book and I let them know while I don't have the time to read it, I would use the information to order my own copy and return it. The older lady boldly stated, "We know you will because we have all the information on you and know where you live!" That one startled me a bit but loved the fact that they could have their fun with me. I walked out feeling blessed.

Over the week, I placed my order for the book that Laura gave me, and skim read it. I immediately noticed the 5 stages of grief and loss are: 1. Denial and isolation; 2. Anger; 3. Bargaining; 4. Depression; 5. Acceptance. But I recognized that as the five stages death as relayed in a comic routine in the movie, "All that Jaz."

[In that movie it is about a choreographer how is slowly killing himself with pills, smoking, drinking and other bad behaviors. He would look into the mirror and go, "It's show time folks!" The five stages play throughout the movie and eventually he does die.]

Now in my brain was "Mike's grief support group," and basically, I was at the stage of acceptance of my own death and the attitude of let the chips fall where they may. I've been urinating brown for four months, certain foods are ripping my insides apart, I am now surviving with about half a cup of food and more on a liquid nutrition diet, I am realizing my decline towards death was accelerating.

I thought of all my friends and the effect their lost loved ones had on us, as I started to consider the effect of my dying would have on others. My bosses would mourn me because they won't be able to find another person to do the job they demanded of me, or willing to work those crazy hours.

I know my sister would grieve, but recounting so many numerous close calls I have had with cars and bad people, and crazy situations that pop up in public places, there is no guarantee what so ever that you don't walk out that door and your life is ended. Then there is the medical side and your life could get hit with an infection, cancer, or other condition that provides one with a torturous life, and/or death.

What didn't escape me was the irony of a dying man attending a grief support group, but I felt I was meant to attend, and I enjoyed my contributions and helping others out with their grieving. I always took the time out to listen on the street and during the meetings in addition of the two men expressing thoughts of suicide, 4-5 others did as well, I took the time out to listen and in a fair manner, supplied food for thought and things to consider.

For the lack of money as my wife, bosses, and tax people (because of those two-former mentioned); I view the time I took out to help other as form of tithing. I also saw it as a duty from one person to another as well as sort of ministry if people are open to those considerations.