Today I’m coming to you from sunny San Diego before I fly home to the Midwest tonight. I’ve spent the last 4 days immersed in my widow community at Camp Widow. I am so happy I found this network of grievers who lift each other up in whatever they need in the moment.
Last October, I was a week away from the 6-month mark of Tony’s passing when I attended camp. I was nervous but eager to find my people. Each session, I was hungry to learn and seeking validation. I went to writing sessions, parenting panels, love after loss discussions, and most importantly for me, suicide survivors. I learned that almost no matter how I was grieving, I was doing it the right way. There are no rules or timelines or steps. You just do you, and here I was accepted without judgement because this tribe understands.
I made friends all over the country and formed a small but mighty squad. Since last October we’ve checked in on each other via text regularly. We share our highs and lows. I know their person’s name and the day of their passing so I can help hold them in my heart too.
When we left Camp Widow last October, we already knew we wanted to come back.
As a second timer, this camp was so different for me. I didn’t need to seek out the same kind of validation this year. It was my turn to give a little back and support the new people I met, validating them. I went to the main attractions and a few sessions that really resonated for me. One of which will always be the suicide survivors, we have a complicated loss and need a little extra love. Last year, I hated the moment I met someone new, and they asked how my person died. My insides crawled having to say the words then waiting to see how this stranger might react. This year, I didn’t have the same visceral reaction. Suicide is how he died, but it doesn’t define him, me, or our love for one another.
I spent more time in the hallways outside the sessions connecting with people individually. I found myself intentionally keeping an eye out for the newbies who needed a new friend to scoop them up. I skipped sessions and plopped myself into a lounge chair by the pool with guacamole and a beverage. I met a wider cast of people this time and I see why so many people keep coming back.
Returning campers get to reinvigorate themselves with a sunny weekend away surrounded by people who get it. They also get to help the people that are coming after them, giving back to the community who has given so much to them.
There aren’t any bunkbeds or s’mores at Camp Widow but there is always dark humor and the hotel lobby bar. As I descended the escalator Friday morning before our first session, I looked at my friend and said, “Yeah! Let’s go get our sad on and talk about dead people!” We cackled the rest of the ride down. Who would believe a couple of women would laugh their way into something called Camp Widow?
