annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- SGW Today the Salty Grief Warriors met on the beach for a swim and a cry and whatever else came up. We are a group of bereaved parents who find solace in cold water sea swimming. There were four of us today - I think we're settling into being a group of five though we haven't all made it at the same time. Two of them are fast approaching the first anniversary of their sons' deaths - one is training for a half marathon as her only way to survive, the other founded this group. Today she asked if we could have a bit more structure to our meetings, if we could start by having five minutes each talking about our dead child, which we did and it was so powerful. We sat on a blanket on the steep, stony beach, in the blinding sunshine, huddled together in our coats and bobble hats while families, dog walkers, other swimmers walked around us, laughing and chatting among themselves. We're a mixed bunch. I'm old and scruffy, though looking a bit upmarket in my dry robe and new lace up Uggs. H is slight and very troubled. A is from the US, much more well off than the rest of us, apologises for her language when she says 'arse' (or 'ass'), despite me and H fucking and cunting every other word. J is older than them, but younger than me, ten years along her journey so a bit more settled, has a kind of solid strength. We'd all brought photos of our dead children, to show who we were talking about, to make them live, at least a bit, in the minds of the others. It was so hard listening. One child had taken their own life while still a teenager, unbearable, another had crashed their car while drunk, Sam had MS and the other had been very ill, discharged from hospital, dead in bed the next morning. It's such a privilege to be a part of this, to be invited to talk about my Sam to people who are really fucking listening, wanting to know my story which is her story, for more, and more. We didn't speak while someone else had the floor, but we hugged and held hands, and stroked arms and backs. Everyone cried sometimes quite massively, huge gulping sobs, sat on our blanket on the busy Sunday beach, gulls swooping and squawking all around us. I really didn't know I needed this, but I did, I do. Then H and A went in the sea. I couldn't as there were waves breaking on a shelf and I couldn't see how deep the shelf was so I was scared. J doesn't want to swim just yet but might later. I went in by the lighthouse, my usual place on the way home, where the water was like a mirror, barely a ripple, never mind a wave. 12:34 a.m. - 20.02.23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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