scrap blog

howdy, and welcome to the scrap blog! i didn’t have much inspiration for new content this week, but i did have an idea i thought was neat–sharing an unfinished piece of work. a scrap. the scrap i’m including here is something i started writing during the holiday season and abruptly stopped for reasons i honestly don’t remember. it isn’t a piece that i’m particularly proud of, but it is special to me because of where i was in life when i wrote it. keep in mind that it will end pretty abruptly, as i stopped writing it abruptly. without further introduction, this is “grief counseling”!

The lights from the tree were uncomfortably bright to George’s eyes, and he turned away to avoid them, instead observing his unfamiliar surroundings. Beige walls covered in posters with positive affirmations, a circle of seats occupied by equally average individuals, and a pot of coffee growing cold on a fold-out card table that held stale donuts. Just as he thought he was going to fall asleep from the boredom, the man in the center of the circle spoke up.

“Hello, everyone! We’re glad to have you all here. I understand that the holiday season can be a very difficult time for people, and I would like you all to know that I’m proud of you for seeking help and community. I see that we have a new face here in our friendly circle! What is your name, sir?” he asked, his eyes locking with George’s for an awkward length of time.

“Um… George. George Silva.”

“Hello, George!” the group said in eerie unison.

“Hello,” he replied, somewhat put off by the display.

“It’s very nice to meet you, George. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself and why you’re here?”

“All right,” he replied hesitantly. “I’m a history teacher. I’m from Memphis. I’m here because… well, I’m here because of my daughter.”

“When did she pass?” the man in the middle asked, and George saw that his name tag read “Paul”.

“Oh, she didn’t. Lizzy’s fine. I’m here because she forced me to come. I don’t normally do this kind of thing.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘this kind of thing’?” Paul asked.

“Well, you know… things where a bunch of folks gather around and talk about feelings. It’s not something I’d normally do.”

“And that’s perfectly fine. Many people are apprehensive about group counseling, but I can assure you that if you give it a chance, you can see real benefits. Now, would you mind telling us why you’re daughter insisted on you seeking help?”

“My wife. She… passed away this summer.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that. How did she pass, if you’re comfortable telling us?”

“Car accident. It was very sudden. I guess my daughter figures I’m having a tough time with it.”

“Are you?”

“Well, sure. Of course I am. My wife’s car burst into flames on a random Tuesday- I’d think that would be enough to leave anybody broken up,” he said in a harsh tone.

“I’d say so. I’m very sorry. I’d also like for you to know that your aggression about the subject is perfectly normal and healthy. It makes you one step closer to working through your feelings. Tell me, how do you feel about the approaching holiday? I know that the first one without the loved one is often extremely difficult.”

well… there she is. i might pick up on this piece again, and i might not. but i have a deep connection to the characters in this scrap, so it’ll always hold a special place in my heart <3