Posted November 6, 2011 Book: Alone: For All Those Who Grieve Author: W.F. (Bill) Cento Tasora Books, Minneapolis, MN. 2011. Pp. 90 An Excerpt from the Jacket: Bill Cento lost his wife, Vera, twice. First, he watched as her memories and personality were claimed by dementia. Then, upon her death, he coped once more with loss. A newspaper reporter by trade, Cento started “reporting on” his loss, but as his grief experience broadened — through grief counseling groups and prayer — he started writing poetry. In the poems, Cento finds the beauty in language and the imagery to convey his raw emotions experienced by his loss. He compiled the poems into a booklet called Alone, which he has distributed across the U.S. finding a wide audience. Hundreds of letters of appreciation poured in with similar themes: “Your feeling and sentiments were so powerful I found tears I thought had died long ago.” For the grieving and also for caregivers, it is a poetic journey from paralyzing loss to the tender and optimistic steps toward a new life. An Excerpt from the Book: One day, about two months after Vera’s death, I confronted the grief that was engulfing me and snatched control — however briefly — from its powerful grasp. For that precious period of time, my life was mine again. You can do it, too. Remember this journey of ours is taken one step at a time, and this could be one stride you can take today. Try it. Healing Grief I am new to grieving, Vera, my wife of 42 years, suffered from a slowly advancing dementia that in her last five years stole her memory and finally drained the soul from her body only two months ago. I am new to grieving and I am quickly finding that it’s going to be a longer and tougher journey than I expected I am new to grieving, Instead of confronting loneliness I run away from it to distract myself from the reality of being alone at home at night. Ask anyone who has lost a spouse — the nights are the worst. Often, when I feel loneliness coming on as the evening meal approaches and I dread being by myself, I go to The Cherokee restaurant, order a martini and another, and perhaps another — and finally a meal — and maybe a Scotch and soda or two for the road. I am new to grieving and I am wondering whether I’m downing all these drinks because I know I’ll soon be home alone again with empty chairs that cannot speak, a piano gone silent because there’s no one to play it, and only the mattress on an empty bed to enfold me? Tonight is different. Instead of running away, I decide to confront the loneliness, boil pasta, simmer sauce, open a bottle of red wine and eat alone listening to Ella Fitzgerald sing a little Gershwin. It hurts a lot — this first evening meal at home alone, but it is progress in facing grief. However small, I have taken a step on a long healing journey that only can be made one stride at a time, even though the pain of each step at times is as searing as walking on hot coals. I am new to grieving, but I feel good about facing loneness and not running away from it, because as the sun sets on this day I am again in charge of my life — even if it is just for a short time before grief takes hold anew. Table of Contents: 1. Caregiving 2. Loss 3. Memories 4. Recovery 5. Healing