One More Day

Katie and I went to the Child Bereavement Center for the first time on Monday night. It was "family night," which means that there are not just children that have lost parents but also siblings, grandparents, or friends.

One of the interesting things is that an adult must accompany the child and participate in the adult group. So I couldn't just drop Katie off and come pick her up at the end of her time.

Katie seemed to have a good time and is excited about going back.

The adult group was good except for one thing. After doing introductions, they asked us to tell them what we would do if we had one more day with the person who had died. And I answered, but this is the kind of question that drives me nuts. Why do we want to dwell in the land of the impossible? Why not discuss something that could happen?

In actuality, I have no idea what I would really do if I had another day. What would I have done if I had known March 28, 2004, was the last I would have had? I know that I am not going to torture myself thinking about things that I will never be able to answer. I know what I hope to be true, but I also know how far I usually am from doing what I would hope to do.

We will go back. But I hope the adult time becomes more productive.