Monday was one of those busy days at work, but every time I checked the clock on my computer, it read "6 hours until your appointment at Gilda's Club" or "2 hours" or "30 minutes." I had the made the appointment at my previous meeting on Saturday. I'd arrived early and was chatting with Sabrina, a lovely girl personing the front desk. I meant to ask her if she was a worker or a volunteer. Next time. Though I expected to sit down and kill some time on my iPad (probably over-detailing this very experience in my journal) but Rebecca, the Program Manager at Gilda's club did not surprise me when she immediately came to collect me and bring me to one of the upper floors to "interrogate" me.
We cozied up in a pretty chic little room and hunkered down for the questions she had to ask me as part of becoming a me member. I was disappointing there was no spanking machine involved. She told me these were questions that were designed by Gilda herself's therapist. She advised me they may seem vague, but I think we got through it without much trouble. Without a doubt they were difficult to answer. What is going well in your life? What isn't going well? Loaded questions as far as I am concerned. It was obvious the questions were designed to determine a certain state of mind--just so the facilitator knows what he/she is dealing with.
After finishing our questions and talking about all the services available to me--and there are many. Some weekly. Some monthy. I'd researched the groups on the website and already knew what I wanted to do: to attend the Wednesday evening Bereavement Group. Since they don't accept new members without the class being in a place to be able to do so, Rebecca thought--out of the blue--that Sept. 21 would be the first date I should attend my first group. Sound familiar to anyone? I literally gasped when I looked at my calendar on my iPad. It was a sign that I relaxed into. I'd be starting my bereavement group on what would have been Ken's 46th birthday. Sort of a fitting gift.