Chapter 79: “To Have Someone Is To Lose Someone”

In order to cope with day to day living, we all deny the inevitable. The fact that most of us outlive our parents, some even dying of old age, does not lessen the pain of the loss.  For however long it takes, most of us grieve and move on.  However, the loss of a parent at a young age, 25 and under, is a life altering, devastating, tragedy.  As was the case of one group member, Peter, whose father died before his son was born. But that fact did not stop Peter from having a relationship with him. Never having a father, Peter created one as a young boy from his fantasy images of super-heroes and other largely than life male figures. In group, his attitude toward me was a mixture of cool indifference and solicitous attachment. One night the two extreme came together during an emotionally charged interaction. Here’s what happened.

The group began with several people missing.  Peter asked me: “Where are the others?”   I answered: “Am I my patient’s keeper?”   He said: “Very funny. Did anyone call?”  I told him who called and who didn’t then asked if he had a feeling about those missing.  He said:” I’m curious as to what happened”.  I said: “Curious is intellectual. What’s your feeling?”    Peter said: “I don’t have a feeling”.   I countered: “Well if you had a feeling what would it be?”   Donna said to me: “I’m angry with Peter.  He avoids his feelings and only gives us his thoughts”. As she spoke, I gestured toward Peter as if to say to her: “Tell him that not me.”  Tanya agreed: “I feel angry and abandoned when people don’t show up. I want the whole family to be together”.   Then Peter said: “I’m afraid to have feelings about the missing people. It reminds me of all the losses in my life, especially my father”.  I said: “That’s an honest answer. Are you afraid to get too attached for that reason?”   Peter said: “Yes”.            Coincidentally, after that night, I came down with the flu and was out the next week. When I returned some members were too solicitous, or so it seemed, of my health. Richard said: ”I was afraid you died. ” In honesty, I shudder every time a group discussion turns to my mortality. I don’t always handle these questions well.  I said: “Was that a wish or a fear?” . Fredericka said:” I was so worried about you”.  My reply was the famous quote from Freud who had a similar reaction from his students after he returned to school after an illness: “Your death wishes haven’t killed me yet”.

Then Christine said:  I’d like to talk.  I’m very upset about a phone call I got today from a friend.  She told me that her group therapist died suddenly…I felt bad for her but then I thought about myself.” Turning toward me, she said:” What if you died suddenly?  How would we know?  What would become of the group?” Her question made me very anxious. My mind raced out of the room and I remembered that I had put off signing up for a workshop at an upcoming group therapy conference on creating a professional will.  I punted and made a lame joke: “I don’t have any immediate plans to die”.

I glanced over at Peter and saw a look of terror cross his face and realized this was no time to trifle with his feelings. I encouraged Peter to talk about the memories and feelings that my absence evoked. He talked about his father. I said: “He left you much too soon, didn’t he?”  Though tears, he said: “I miss him so much and I never even knew him.”  I said: “It’s harder to lose a parent that you never had than one that you did. Tell us about the man you imagined your father to be”. Peter said: “He’d be someone like you. Funny, smart, kind, loving.”  The group was empathetic and we all grieved for him and for ourselves, reminded of the inevitable tragedy of the human condition—”To have someone is to lose someone”.