The grief group

I just finished up an 8-week session of grief group therapy. I'm still unclear as to whether or not it helped me during my grief process. It didn't hurt me; I'm just not sure if it helped. It was originally supposed to be ten people, but ended up being a core group of five, as the sixth (another guy) acquired a new job and was not able to attend the last few sessions, which was somewhat upsetting to me as we were the only two men involved. I had no problem interacting with the women in the group, it was just nice having that other male presence, albeit a straight man to my being a gay man. I wasn't entirely comfortable being the only male perspective in the group, but I do feel that I gained a perspective from the female side that has been lacking. And the group was very diverse with respect to why each person was there and for whom they were grieving. I was grieving the loss of Dennis, Jan had lost her husband, Jennifer her brother, Judy her mother, and Diana had lost her partner Pamela—three straight people and two gay people. While I am unclear about the group's help to me, I do have the feeling that my presence was a help to the others and that's because the facilitator had asked for the link to this blog. He told me and the group that when he sat down to read it, he started reading and could not stop. He thought the blog was wonderfully written and suggested that I give the link to everyone else in the group. I did so and they all told me basically the same thing that he did. Judy stated, "Rick, I read your blog. Oops, let me rephrase that. I cried my way through your blog. You really know how to show emotion in your writing." Maybe the reason I was in the group was to help others—and that's okay by me. We all agreed that we might try getting together on our own, like maybe once a month, and see if we can take this a bit farther without a facilitator. (Edited to add: don't get me wrong, I'm still questioning whether or not the group dynamic helped me or not. I enjoyed—if that's the correct word—going to the group each week and interacting with the great group of women. I came to realize today that just the poem below is reason enough to have been in the group, mainly because I truly feel like it's Dennis talking to me.)

Our "assignment" for the final two sessions was to bring in photos and a memento of some sort in order for the others to gain a better sense of who each of us had lost. I made a two-photo collage—a photo of us on our honeymoon at the beginning of our relationship, and one of us on our 30th anniversary, near the end of our relationship. I took the Santa Claus candle that Dennis and I had bought our first Christmas together as my memento and told the story of how each year, when we dig out the decorations, whoever finds him first would hold Santa up, look at the other, and we'd simultaneously say, "Ho, ho, ho" and break out in smiles. Keeping our tradition was especially difficult this past year, as Dennis was fading away and I wasn't even sure he'd make it to Christmas (he died Christmas Eve). I had tears in my eyes while saying "ho, ho, ho" and the tears resurfaced as I told the story to the group. Everyone's photos and stories were heartfelt and most were told through tears. One of the items Diana brought was a poem that Pamela had chosen to be included in her memorial service. I generally don't really care about poetry, but this poem really struck me and I'm including it here:

Death is nothing at all...

I have only slipped into the next room...

I am I, and you are you...

Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by my old familiar name,

speak to me in the easy way you always used.

Put no difference into your tone;

wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed

at the little jokes we enjoyed together.

Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.

Let my name be ever the household word

that it always was.

Let it be spoken without effect,

without the ghost of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.

It is the same as it ever was;

there is absolutely unbroken continuity.

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?

I am waiting for you, for an interval,

somewhere very near just around the corner...

All is well.

Written by: Henry Scott Holland, Oxford Professor of Divinity

Upon reading it, I felt that Dennis was speaking to me.

60 is okay by me

Ever since I turned 60 on May 1st, I've been feeling a subtle change in my "being." The depressive fog that has shrouded me seems to be lifting a bit, and I am certainly happy about that. Being a grounded earth sign, I generally don't "feel" things. Every time Dennis and I went to Hawaii, for instance, he'd always say, "Don't you feel the energy here?" And of course, I'd reply, "No. I enjoy it when we're here, but all I 'feel' is the sun on my face, the trade winds at my back, and happiness at being here with you. Isn't that enough?"

But this time, it's definitely different. I've been pretty depressed and sad ever since he died—who wouldn't be? And while I still miss him terribly, I am noticing that I just feel different. Don't get me wrong—I can still cry at the drop of a hat pin, but I find that it's happening less now than in the recent past. I know that emotional times are still ahead, like when I go back to Michigan in July for his memorial that his sisters want to hold. Because I know myself so well, I just know that I'll be crying a river before I even ring the doorbell at Sandie and Ray's house. I've never visited the Healys without Dennis, and while I am certainly looking forward to seeing all of them, I'm also dreading it because of the emotions involved. Rick, meet Catch-22. And of course there are still numerous things that are going to occur during the year that will be emotional—the anniversary date of his diagnosis (August 25, 2009—I'll always remember that day), our 31st anniversary on September 1st will probably be debilitating to me, my first Thanksgiving without him in 31 years, and of course December will be especially difficult, the 24th in particular—the first anniversary of his death. This past week has been somewhat of a difficult time, as it was one year ago that we were in Hawaii for the last time as a couple. It's hard to believe it's been a year already, but it has. And my happy memories of that trip are with me, but there's a sadness as well, knowing that we'll never go together again.

And there is one thing that I will never doubt—he would want me to live my life and be as happy as I can be—even though it will be without him (in the physical sense); he's always there in my thoughts. A lot of people have told me that eventually I'll find someone else, but what they don't understand is: I don't want to find anyone else. When you've already experienced a great love like we shared, I would not want to subject anyone to the comparisons I would ultimately make; I just know that I'd constantly compare whatever this person does with what Dennis did or didn't do, and I just don't want to do that. It would not be fair so it's probably just for the better to remain single and enjoy the company of my friends. I can live with that. I don't discount that it could happen, but it's just something that I don't really think about too much at the moment. I'd rather think about how I'm going to make Palm Springs my retirement location—now that's something I can concentrate on, even though it's most likely six to ten years down the road.

The Early Years - Part 4

Having experienced a week away from Michigan's winter in February 1981, we decided that February vacations going south was the thing to do. It really did break up the time between winter and spring, as spring seemed to arrive quicker after being away for a couple of weeks. Instead of a one-week vacation, we took two weeks in the middle of February 1982 to get away yet again. On my way home from work after my swing shift, a snowstorm had arrived in the Detroit metro area and it was dropping a lot of snow. By the time Dennis got home after his midnight shift, over twelve inches of snow had fallen. Instead of waiting any longer, we decided to hit the road right away, with Dennis foregoing sleep so we could try to get out of the raging storm. I drove first and Dennis tried to catch a little sleep in the car, though he wasn't able to get any "good" sleep. By the time we reached Cincinnati, the snow had changed to rain and the temperature had climbed from the 20s in Detroit to over 40 degrees in southern Ohio.

Once we passed Cincinnati, we left I-75 and caught I-71 to Louisville, Kentucky. Once we were at Louisville, we changed to I-65 and headed towards Nashville, where we planned on changing to I-40 towards Memphis and Little Rock, Arkansas. Everything was going along fine until we got into Arkansas, when we suddenly developed car trouble. We coasted to a stop along the freeway and lucky for us, a man in a pickup truck stopped to see if he could help us. He told us that an exit was less than two miles away and offered to push us to the exit, where we could get the car to a service station. Because it was late at night, by the time we arrived, the station was closed. We left a note on the windshield, advising them that we would be back in the morning. There was a motel at this exit as well, so we walked to it, got a room and spent the night. In the morning, we found out that the problem was the alternator. Because it was Sunday, they could not get parts but the attendant suggested we charge the battery, go as far as we could, then stop and have it recharged and continue on our way. It worked out just as he said. We kept stopping about every 150 miles, recharged the battery, got back on the road and headed to our destination: Dallas.

Dennis, me and our friend Steve Burge

We contacted our friend Steve Burge to let him know what was happening, and we anticipated arriving in Dallas around 7pm. Steve had given us good directions (no GPS or Mapquest in 1982!) and we found his place easily. We got the car fixed the next day and spent a couple of days with Steve in Dallas, as he showed us around, we checked out some of the gay bars and had a nice visit.

Once we left Dallas, we headed next to Houston to look up another friend who had said we could spend the night at his place. Houston was a one-night stop, George lived in the gay-friendly area of Montrose in Houston. We went out partying the one night we were in town, then the next morning hit I-10 on our way to New Orleans.

Dennis & partial view of our room at Lafitte Guest House

We had reservations at a gay Bed & Breakfast place called the Lafitte Guest House, right on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter area of the city. We spent two nights at the B&B, doing some of the fun touristy things—walked through the French Quarter, walked along the Mississippi River until we got to Jackson Square, ate at a cajun restaurant and had fun just being tourists.

Houmas House outside New Orleans

One of the highlights was visiting Houmas House, the southern mansion used during the filming of "Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte." We had to wait for a bit once we got there, as they have "tours" of the house—you aren't permitted to look around the inside of the house by yourself, you must be with a tour guide. We explored the exterior while waiting for our tour to begin. We also drove around and looked at a host of southern mansions. It was fun pretending to be Scarlett O'Hara!


After leaving New Orleans, we got back on I-10 heading to the warmth of southern Florida. We were planning on looking up Morrie again in the Tampa area. We had reservations at a hotel in Tampa for the remainder of our trip. The highlight of our visit this time was a trip to Orlando to see Disney World. Dennis, Morrie, his boyfriend at the time (whose name I can't recall), and I piled into the car and headed out. Morrie had a couple hits of mescaline, so while in the parking lot at Disney World, we crushed them up, split the powder into four parts, each of us took a hit and headed into the park. Our first visit was to Space Mountain. The mescaline started hitting all of us just as we climbed aboard our respective cars—talk about a wild ride. In case you are not aware, Space Mountain is basically a roller coaster in the dark, though your eyes do adjust to the darkness and you can tell what's going on. The one thing we didn't anticipate though was almost at the end of the ride—you go through a straightaway area and these bright lights flash on for only a couple of seconds. Tripped us out thoroughly—we were giggling like school-girls once we exited the ride. All in all, it was another great vacation.

Palm Springs Weekend

I just spent four days (April 28th to May 1st) in Palm Springs, California with two of my dearest friends. It was my first visit there and it was a very enjoyable long weekend, even though there were a few emotional times. The trip was in response to an invitation from Donna to join her and my best friend Tom in a long weekend to celebrate my 60th birthday. You may recall that I mentioned this invite in my last post, when I was wondering if my mood at that time would spoil the weekend, because I was struggling with really missing Dennis and I didn't want my unhappiness to spill over into the weekend. My concerns turned out to be unwarranted, as we did have a very nice time.

The back of Donna's house with pool

It was 93 degrees when we stepped off the plane on Thursday afternoon, but the next three days didn't get that hot. The average temperature was between 80 to 85, very comfortable weather for someone used to living in the temperate San Francisco Bay Area. After picking up the rental car, we drove to Donna's, got the tour of the house and backyard (with pool) and then headed out to the downtown area for a street art fair. It felt good to be able to wander around in shorts, shirt and sandals instead of being bundled up in a coat. Knowing that we didn't need "stuff" made the trek more enjoyable; we concentrated on buying food items instead, picking up sweet-tasting strawberries, along with two flavors of fudge. Once we were done at the fair, we enjoyed dinner which included the tenderest calamari any of us had ever tasted. They were breaded strips of calamari instead of the usual "round" tentacles you usually see served at restaurants. At a different restaurant the next night, we once again had calamari so we could compare the two—the strips of calamari were the clear winner in taste and texture.

Tom & I at lookout point in San Jacinto park

On the flight down, Tom had mentioned that he wanted to take the aerial tramway up the mountain and I thought that sounded like fun. Donna dropped us off, as she suffers from vertigo and didn't want to accompany us. Just before we got on the tramway to return down the mountain, we phoned her so she'd be able to meet and pick us up. The upgraded tramway has a movable floor so you're given a 360 degree view. We were able to capture a spot next to a window on the way back down, which enabled us to get a better view than on the way up. On a clear day (which seems to happen every day) you can see for over 50 miles according to the tramway operator. The trip up the mountain takes eleven minutes and you go from approximately 2,000 feet to over 8,500 feet in altitude. Once you are at the top, there are hiking trails for those people so inclined to do so, along with a restaurant, a bar, and the usual gift shops. We have a tradition at my office: bring back a refrigerator magnet from your trip. The office's refrigerator is loaded with about 50 magnets from all over the world and I added yet another when I returned to work.

Des McAuley & I in his backyard

Des's house from the back

We went back to Donna's for some lunch and I contacted an old friend of mine that I had not seen since he moved from San Francisco in the late 1980s. In fact, Dennis and I had thought that he may have passed away, as we had not received his annual holiday card for the past four years. But in December we received a card and I noticed that he was no longer in Laguna Beach, but was in a place called Cathedral City. I used Mapquest and found that it was a "suburb" of Palm Springs. The only holiday card I sent out in 2010 went to Des; I filled him in on what was happening in our lives and incredibly, he phoned me on Christmas Eve, about two hours before Dennis died. With all that was going on at the house when he called, I neglected to get his phone number, so once Dennis passed away, I sent Des a short note along with a laminated obituary card that I had made up for his Celebration of Life Party. After receiving my note, Des phoned again and this time I got his contact information. I also told him that I'd be in Palm Springs at the end of April. We agreed that we'd get together while I was in town. It was great seeing him after all these years; the three of us all went and spent a few hours with him. Des has a lovely home and I now have a standing invitation to visit him whenever I want—which I will definitely take him up on later this year.


Tom made arrangements to spend some time Saturday night with a friend of his who lives in Palm Springs. Donna and I dropped him off to meet his friend, then we went to dinner at a Mexican restaurant, then went to the casino. Something didn't smell right as soon as we walked in the place. Strolling through the casino, I noticed people were smoking and saw ashtrays located next to every slot machine we passed. I looked at Donna and said, "No wonder it stinks in here. They allow smoking inside. I don't think I'm going to be able to stay here for very long."

"I had forgotten they allow it," replied Donna. "They are supposed to have a pretty good ventilation system, but our best bet would be to stay for just a little while."

"I agree. I don't care how 'good' their supposed ventilation system is, I can still smell smoke and it really turns me off."

We only stayed for about an hour and a half, then I just couldn't take it any more. I always limit myself to $100 when I'm gambling, and I walked out only losing about $68 as our last spin on the "Wheel of Fortune" slot machine garnered us 250 credits (it was a 25 cent machine), so Donna and I split the $65 winnings, then headed back to the house to play pool.

Once back at the house, Donna dug out her portable ghetto blaster and we found a dance station that was having a 1970s dance party, which struck us funny as Tom had mentioned that he was frustrated in not being able to find a dance bar that played 1970s disco music. We phoned Tom and told him we were partying at the house and mentioned the station we were listening to and hoped he'd be able to get back to the house before the party music ended at midnight. He texted back a while later that he'd be home around 11pm. All three of us knew the words to almost every song that came on and just enjoyed each other's company while listening to songs we had all danced to way back when.

Sunday morning once again found the sun shining brightly. Donna had gone out earlier and gotten the local Sunday paper along with the New York Times Sunday edition, so we spent the morning pouring over the papers and watching the Royal Wedding of Prince William and Kate (which we had taped because to watch the live version would have meant being up about 3am and none of us were willing to do that). It was my birthday and I was really missing Dennis that morning, to the extent that I had a couple of major crying spells, but I had two of my closest friends with me and they loaned me their shoulders yet again. We went to brunch later that morning, eating in the outside area of one of the local restaurants. Later that afternoon while I was sitting by the pool, Tom and Donna went inside the house, then a few minutes later came out signing happy birthday and carrying a small cake with three candles. Right before they got to me, a gust of wind blew out the candles, and Donna stated, "Oops, looks like Dennis already blew out the candles for you, but go ahead and make a wish anyhow."

We all laughed and I cut the cake. About half way through my piece, the tears started flowing again, but they were there once again to comfort me. So even though the weekend contained many tears on my part, I am very glad that I went and thank Donna for her insight of how my birthday weekend could be emotional for me—which it was—but having dear friends around to help me through it made it a very special weekend. I am very happy that my age now starts with a six instead of a five, as my 59th year was a real bitch and I am ecstatic to get rid of that year. I feel renewed on my 60th birthday and am hopeful that "the new Rick" is starting to emerge from the fog that has shrouded me since December. It's the first time I've felt good since Dennis died and I'm starting to look forward to the remainder of my life, even though I realize it will be without the love of my life. I will always love you dear, and you will remain in my heart until it's my time to join you on the other side.