I entered the small hall and looked around, a circle of chairs sat in the middle of the room, maybe twelve in total, I didn’t have time to count because a lady entered behind me and gave me a jump.

“Sorry dear, I didn’t mean to frighten you. You’re a new face. My name is Deirdre I run this group.”

I smiled back at her, but my mind was scrambling for answers. What have I just walked into?

“Take a seat the others will be along shortly.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was here to pick up my trainers I left in the cloakroom. So I sat down on one of the chairs.

As promised ten other people filed into the room in short succession they all smiled at me glad to see a new face. I recognised a couple of them as parents of my students.

“Today we have a new face, we won’t pressure them to speak if they don’t want to, but how about someone else start and we’ll go from there.”

A lady opposite me raised her hand and with a nod from Deirdre she began.

“I was able to listen to two songs this week.” She beamed as everyone applauded her and me joining them lagging a couple of seconds behind.

“That’s amazing!” Deirdre exclaimed.

“I’m hoping I’ll be able to listen to a whole album by the time of my birthday in September.” The woman continued shyly.

“Remember don’t too much pressure on yourself, goals are really important, but giving yourself deadlines you run the risk of missing them and then you go back to the cycle of feeling bad because you didn’t reach it, but we will all do as much as we can to support you.” Deirdre smiled and everyone nodded.

The woman seemed satisfied with this response and a couple more people spoke up with similar sentiments and vague accomplishments all to do with music or singers or something.

“Would our new guest like to speak today?” Deirdre smiled at me.

“Um.” Was all I could muster.

“You don’t have to dear, you can take as long as you need. We here at The Dead Musicians’ Support Group all understand the struggles you’re going through.”

My brows raised at the name. The what? All these people were here because they were grieving a dead musician? That’s absolutely absurd!

“I would like to speak if that’s okay?” I found my voice escaping before I could tell it too.

Deirdre smiled and motioned for me to start when I was ready.

“I’m Mr. Richards,” I began a everyone said hello. “I’m not really sure I belong here, but I guess talking would be nice…” what was I doing?

“Take your time Mr. Richards there’s no rush.” Deirdre encouraged.

“When I was younger I was obsessed with Michael Jackson, I had his posters up on my wall…” and I kept talking and talking about MJ like he was my personal friend and everybody listened and I didn’t feel judged, I felt free. Like I had kept this pain inside me for all these years and I cried and someone handed me a tissue and I found myself wanting to come back next week. And I did.