Last weekend, six perfect strangers met, broke bread together and shared stories of grief and loss. There were tears, laughs and lots of empathy to go around. It was all part of an experience made possible by The Dinner Party, an organization that brings together people in their 20s and 30s who’ve suffered a significant loss.
About four or five months after my Dad passed, I looked into grief support groups. I found there wasn’t much out there for people my age – especially people my age who’ve lost a parent. Somehow in my search, I came across The Dinner Party and I loved the concept. It’s a take on a traditional grief support group, but modernized. No sterile meeting space with squeaky folding chairs and folks sitting around in a circle. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I knew it wasn’t quite right for me.
I eagerly signed up and waited for a response. Beyond the automated response email, it was ‘crickets’ for months. The organization is fairly new, so I was disappointed that a “table” wasn’t ready for me to jump into immediately. Honestly, I kind of forgot about the whole thing till I received an email in early-January from my table host, Rachel. Her note began:
“Hello everyone! I am so sorry we are all here but I am glad we can come together. Grief has been a crazy ride already – it will be nice to be among those who understand.”
My heart swelled! I didn’t realize how much I wanted and needed to be around others who understand exactly what I’m going through.
Fast forward about six weeks later, and it was finally time for our first get-together. JR kept asking me all day if I felt nervous about the event, but I really didn’t until right before I walked in the door. I thought, “Am I really ready for this?” Yet, I walked through the door with my caprese salad and bottle of wine with a smile on my face and hope in my heart.
Rachel’s home was lovely with warm tones reflected by soft lighting and lit candles. She welcomed me in and showed me where I could place my dish, as well as display a picture of my loved one if I would like. I brought a few pictures of my dad with me and settled on a funny one where Kerry, Dad and I had ‘posed’ like we were laughing at a hilarious joke one Christmas, which of course resulted in real laughter because it was so silly. I placed the photo of the three of us beside the five other pictures of loved ones no longer living and joined the other women sitting in the family room.
Rachel officially welcomed us to our first dinner party and then asked each of us to share a little bit about our story – who we lost, how – if we felt comfortable sharing the details, and where we are now – like a status check on how we’re dealing with it all.
As we all took turns sharing, I was stunned by how many of the feelings and emotions expressed by others felt so similar to my own. Four of us in the room had lost our fathers, three of us had suffered through unexpected losses, and several others had lost more than one person in a short amount of time. As sad as it was, there was something truly healing in hearing about their losses and how they were processing it.
The conversation moved into dinner. As we filled our plates, I already felt a quiet kinship with these women just by the very nature of our shared grief. While we ate, we hit on other topics and shared some laughs, but we always came back to loss and grief. You would expect this to feel heavy – and there were definitely some serious moments – but I almost felt lighter as the night progressed.
When we finished eating, we all moved back to the “altar” created with candles and memories of our loved ones. I saw a picture of a father and his young daughter, two best friends with matching pixie cuts, a bride on her wedding day with both parents by her side, a new mother with her baby and the newly-minted grandmother…and my sis and me with my Dad.
I looked around at the beautiful souls filling the room and felt so much gratitude for this shared experience. We are all dealing with our tragedies in unique ways, but we have strength and courage in common. It was a beautiful moment.
When the exhaustion started to hit me, I checked the clock and fours hours had passed in an instant. It was time to go home. We said our goodbyes with hugs and promises to get together again soon.
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Here’s the truth – losing someone sucks. No matter if it’s sudden or slow…loss changes you and sometimes (most of the time) you feel like part of you is missing. It makes you question your world. You feel every emotion – sometimes all at once. Sometimes you feel too much and then sometimes you feel nothing at all.
Yet, somehow we keep going…
The dinner party reminded me there are people out there who understand my pain. Sharing and listening…that’s the key. Each of us there that night wanted to listen as much as we wanted to be heard. There’s a special kind of healing in that type of shared experience. It’s a unique combination of remembering and honoring your loved one, but also knowing that you’re going to be ok without them…even if part of you doesn’t want to.
Maybe that’s the light at the end of the tunnel – the connection we feel with others, even perfect strangers, while dealing with loss. And, somehow, those connections are what keep us moving forward…one step at a time.
ginger.in.paradise 
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