Most of the grief counsellors are fond of starting and/or ending sessions with very newage-y grief poetry. Not my cup of tea, but relatively harmless, and possibly less dangerous than having them do their own assessment of what the bereaved need to hear. One of the poems talked about listening (which is good), and (rather unclearly) about (possibly looking forward to?) a time when you were so tired of the story that you didn't need to tell it any more. (The poem wasn't too clear about whether the story was of your loved one, or about your own grief.) I'm not too sure that there will ever come a time when you *can't* tell the story anymore (either one), or don't want to, but I do realize that the need to tell it does lessen over time, and with the telling.
During grief walking group (walking grief group?) today, through the random interactions that tend to happen, I was involved with three people, at different times, for the walk. I realized that 1) I was in danger of dominating the conversations, and 2) I definitely haven't told Gloria's story enough. (The story of my grief generally only gets one telling: here.)
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