John Dutton’s Story
The Journey Of A Lifetime
John Dutton, Past President
It was 9:33 on Saturday night. He pushed the call button and when the nurse came in asked if Rennie was still breathing. She looked at the monitor, said “no” and without looking at him, snapped off the machines, and walked out. As he left the neuro critical care unit, the nurses told him how sorry they were for his loss, and he knew they meant it.
In the next two weeks he handled all the legal, financial, and organizational details of a life just ended. Over the next year the reality of what happened settled into the secret parts his soul. Rennie was nine years younger than he, and in good health. She often said, “if something happened to me her life would be over, but if he was left, he would do just fine.” Somehow, he thought she was probably right.
But there were times when truth came knocking. Maybe in an evening. Sometimes alone in the car. He realized, “I didn’t know what I had till I lost it….didn’t know what I needed until it was gone.” The enormity of his loss was beyond words.
Some reading material from the hospital said it was important to find someone to talk with, and to look for a local grief support group. A Google search turned up only two – one 60 miles a way in Norfolk, and the other, right next door in Kilmarnock.
The pleasant room in a comfy old house had chairs around the walls that were mostly full as the clock hit 1:00. Seven women and three guys. The professional counsellor made it easy with no pressure - talk if you want, share a little or not at all.
The group met 10 times for an hour and a half. He attended every session and came away with two big learnings that are still in his life-kit today:
Grief comes in a thousand ways – loss of a child, husband, mother brother, dad, cousin, wife; by accident, suicide, illness, age.
Focus only on your own path. The right way is your way. Never notice others or compare with someone who is doing better or worse. Follow your path as it comes to you. That is all.
At the end there were no celebrations, no congratulations. Everyone smiled quietly with people they now knew well, said their goodbyes, and walked out with insights and tools for what is to come. They had learned much about grief, but even more about themselves.
This is what The Bay Center did for John Dutton, and he is now President of The Bay Center’s Board of Directors. Maybe someday you will tell him what The Bay Center has done for you.