I looked at the brochure in my hand, and then at the door to the conference room, before balling up the piece of paper and shoving it in my pocket. I'm fine, I insisted to myself. I don't need to go to some dumb support group. What can they tell me that I haven't already heard? I don't need this.

Spinning around to head back down the hallway, I ran smack into another woman who also had her eyes on the ground. Her cell phone skittered across the tile, and her purse fell off her arm as she struggled to catch it. "Hi," the woman said as we both bent down to gather the contents of her purse off the ground. "I don't remember you. This your first time?"

I nodded silently, handing her her fallen cell phone.

"I think I ran away just about that fast my first time too." Slipping around me, she opened the door to the conference room. "I'm Miley, by the way."

"Meredith."

"You should try it once," Miley said, sensing my unspoken need to streak out the front door. "You should come just once, just to see. You can always…not come back."

I followed her, hesitantly settling beside her on a couch. There was a woman in the ratty armchair across from me who was obviously the leader, seeing as she had a large sheaf of papers in her lap. Besides her, there were a couple of men and nine or ten other women.

With a glance at the clock, the leader cleared her throat. "We should probably get started." Everybody settled into seats around the room as she continued, "For those of you who haven't been here before, my name is Becky."

"Hi, Becky," the group chorused stereotypically.

"What we do here is talk about…well, anything," she shrugged. "Everybody here has lost a child."

That should be…seriously obvious. I thought.

"Let's just go around the room and introduce ourselves."

"I'm Miley," the woman who had befriended me outside began. "My daughter died of leukemia six months ago. I'm still working on it. I mean…I don't…I've left her room the way it was when she…passed. I don't know that I'm feeling things. I thought it would get easier…but it's…hard."

The introductions slowly worked their way around the room until it came time for me to speak. I knew what was expected of me. Staring at my feet, I mumbled, "Do I have to talk?"

"What's your name?" Becky asked.

"Meredith," I whispered.

"And why are you here, Meredith?" she prompted gently.

I picked at the skin around my fingernails, aware of all of the eyes in the room that were on me. If I say it…he's really gone. He can't really be gone. "My son…was killed," I answered, choosing not to elaborate any further. I reached down by my feet and grabbed my purse, rising to my feet. "I can't do this. Not yet. I should go."

I felt a hand on my arm and I turned back. "You should stay, Meredith," Miley said. "You should stay."

Pulling my arm away, I slipped out the conference room and down the hall, all the way out to the parking lot. My hands were shaking so badly that I couldn't hang on to the keys, and the clattered to the asphalt as I tried to turn the key in the lock. I leaned my back against the car, and slid down to the pavement beside the tire.

I said it. I really said it. And by saying it…That means I'm admitting that he's gone. That as much as I go on about everything trying to hold it all together and failing…as much as I say that I'm okay…as much as I try to pretend…Richie really isn't here anymore. And I said it. That means I know it…I know it…He's really gone. He's really gone.

I looked back towards the building that I had fled, wishing I could dig inside myself for the strength to go back inside. "I went…" I whispered to no one in particular. "I went, and…it's a start."