Daniel stepped into the room, his stomach in knots. What was he afraid of? He surveyed the men in the room. All of these men were fathers who had lost a child. Any one of them could have been his patient. There did not seem to be any pattern to them. Some were in expensive suits, some were in uniforms. They seemed to come from all walks of life, every socioeconomic class and every race. All the men greeted one another with friendly smiles and handshakes.
Daniel walked farther into the room, suddenly afraid to make eye contact, when a familiar accent stopped him. Definitely Indian. He turned to find Annika’s father in conversation with a small group of men.
Wait, what?
He caught Daniel’s eye and nodded, a small smile at his lips.
Mr. Mehta glanced at the clock and clapped his hands together. “Shall we get started, then?”
A hum of murmuring, and the scraping of chairs on the tile, as each man found a seat in the circle. A redheaded man standing near Daniel pulled out an extra chair and pointed to it. “Have a seat.” He extended his hand. “I’m Ron. You look new.”
Daniel shook Ron’s hand. “Daniel. And yes, I am.”
Ron’s eyes softened. “Sorry for your loss. But good for you for coming here. If there’s a way out of the hole you’re in, Anil has the map.”
Confused, Daniel took the seat Ron offered. Once everyone was settled, Mr. Mehta called the meeting to order.
“I am Anil Mehta, and I welcome you all. We will go around and see how everyone is doing, and while we do have someone here with us for the first time, I will break protocol just this once and introduce myself before we meet him. He is someone I have notreallymet up until now.” Anil turned his gaze on Daniel, eyes warm and friendly. “My name is Anil Mehta, and I lost my son, Vipul, twenty-five years ago.”
Daniel stared at him, barely registering the group chorus ofWelcome, Anil. We are sorry for your loss.Annika had never mentioned—wait. Annika would have been a baby when—maybe she didn’t know.
Mr. Mehta raised an eyebrow, as if to say,We have more in common than either of us thought.
Daniel nodded back and cleared his throat. “My name is Daniel Bliant.” He paused and looked around the room at all these complete strangers. Black, Hispanic, white, wealthy, middle-class, well dressed, poorly dressed, fit, out of shape. All these men were grieving, had lost a child, just like him.
Mr. Mehta spoke. “It’s okay, Daniel. We’re all friends here. And we’ve all been where you are now.”
Daniel was struck in that moment how similar Mr. Mehta’s eyes were to Annika’s. Comforting and strong. He nodded. “I’m Daniel, and I lost my daughter, Sara, close to five years ago. She was five.” Tears sprang to his eyes, unannounced. He tried to blink them back, but one escaped. He hastily wiped it away as he glanced around the room, but not one man flinched or seemed surprised. His father would have been appalled.
“Welcome, Daniel. We are sorry for your loss,” the group chorused.
Anil smiled and looked to Ron, who cleared his throat. “I’m Ron, and I lost my son, George, seven years ago. He was eight.” He glanced at Daniel. “It was like the world stopped for me, but not for anyone else. I couldn’t understand how life continued when my little boy was gone.”
Daniel couldn’t believe it. That was exactly how he’d felt in the aftermath of Sara’s funeral. He had been so lost, his world had ended, but for some reason they still needed to eat and pay bills. While Daniel took care of all that, he’d had the sense that it was ridiculous. How was it possible to continue when there was now a gaping hole where there had once been a beautiful little girl? How was it possible that the earth even continued to spin? Daniel relaxed into his surroundings as the meeting progressed and fathers shared their latest setbacks and accomplishments. Then came Daniel’s turn again.
“Anything you’d care to share today?” A kindness that Daniel had never heard from Mr. Mehta coated his words. “No pressure. But you could tell us what brought you here.”
Daniel didn’t know what had brought him there. He took in the faces that looked at him, some raw with emotion, others stoic now that they had shared. But not one of them looked at him with shame or disdain. They may not be smiling, but he’d just spent the last hour or more listening to their struggles and setbacks and progress in learning to live life again. Every man in this room had lost a piece of themselves, and they weren’t living in fear of talking about it.
He stood and did something he hadn’t done in a very long time. Maybe not even with Annika. He spoke from his heart.
“I’m here because I’ve been afraid for a long time. I’ve been afraid to care for another person. Until I found myself falling in love with the most amazing woman, and somehow, she loved me, too.” He looked around the room, finally resting his gaze on Anil-uncle. “I ended up pushing her away.”
“Why did you push her away?” Ron asked.
Daniel fixed his gaze on Anil-uncle. “I can’t be the man she needs me to be. The man she deserves.”
“Why not?” Anil asked.
“Because...because every time I care about someone, I’m filled with the fear that they will be ripped away from me.”
“And now?” Anil asked.
Daniel sighed and looked around, his gaze resting on Mr. Mehta’s face. “Now I’m tired. I’m so tired of being afraid.”
Saying it out loud actually made him a little less tired. A little less afraid.
Anil smiled at him. “Then you have come to the right place. Thank you, Daniel.”
