When Your Ex Dies–Disenfranchised Grief
August 31 is difficult for me, and today is no exception.
You see my today is my husband Bill’s 60th birthday.
It would be my ex-husband’s birthday—we were separated for nine years—if it were not for the fact that Bill, or William as he was known then, died before we managed to divorce—also on August 31.
Yep, three years ago he went out on the same day he’d come in.
In our culture people aren’t supposed to mourn when their exes die.
But what if you do? What if you’re often seized the realization of just how much you miss him? What if you can’t stop the tears? And what if sometimes the pain is so bad it’s hard to draw breath?
It’s called disenfranchised grief, and it sucks.
Disenfranchised grief is something I know all too well.
There is no one on this Earth who tested me more than that man did—yes, that includes our kids, the living ones anyway.
Zane, the child who appeared one day 19 years ago and died unexpectedly before he’d been here a full 24 hours—also in August, fucking August—tested both Bill and me more than we’d ever been tested before.
Only a handful of people had even met our beautiful baby boy, and most of them were medical personnel.
The world expects you to “move on” when such a young baby dies. If his death hits you hard, knocking you off-kilter for an extended period of time, people judge you.
And so you hide your pain. It goes underground and festers, and eventually it emerges—often in the most perfect way to hurt those you love most.
If we’d gotten grades on those “tests,” there would have been many “F’s” among them.
But you know what?
That’s not what matters.
What matters is that somehow we always found our way back to love.
Yep, even after Bill’s midlife crisis and the affair with a woman half my age who reminded him of me I was able to love him again.
To the point that three years ago when William was terminally ill, I was the one he asked to help him avoid extended months of discomfort by ending his life on his terms.
And so you hide your pain. It goes underground and festers, and eventually it emerges–often in the most perfect way to hurt those you love most.
And I said yes—even though he was 9,000 miles away and I was broke, concerned about possible eviction, and had no paid time off.
That’s how much I loved him.
I didn’t have to follow through on my promise because the roller coaster ride of William’s life had a few more thrills in store for us, but I did go to him—twice— to spend some time by his side as he lay dying.
People used to ask us how we could be such good friends after all the water that had flowed under the bridge of our relationship. Most people can’t even imagine such a thing after all that heartbreak.
That’s why William and I planned to write our story together.
But then he got sick, and I had to write it by myself.
It’s called The Water Is Wide: A True Love Story, and I hope to find its publisher soon.
If you’d like to see our story published, I would be very grateful if you would share this blog, like my Facebook page, and say hi.
~ Love, Zoey
6 Comments
Bernadette
I would love to read your story. I often get questions on how my ex and I can stay friends, still there for each other, attend birthdays and holidays together for our kids with our significant others. I love my now husband with all my heart but if anything ever happened to my ex I would be devastated. Maybe it’s because we grew up together. We knew everything about each other, had kids, lost our baby girl together, lost parents and grandparents. Who knows but I get it.
zoey.otoole
I remember your ex. Though I never met him, he seemed like someone worth keeping in your life. I’m so glad you did.
Twyla
I’m so very sorry for your losses! Thank you for writing about your sadness. And for teaching us about “disenfranchised grief”. I’d never heard that term before.❤️🩹
zoey.otoole
Now you’ll see it everywhere! That’s what I find when I hear a new idea to me.
Mary Pfingst
You were connected by the worst pain, each suffering and probably unable to be what each other needed due to your own hurt. There’s no time frame on grief. It’s as individual as our personality. It also brings up all our other grief which makes it even harder, especially for those who have suffered many losses, not just death. It doesn’t mean you didn’t love each other. Relationships go in and out of love. Nothing stays the same. I’d love to read your book. Your real expression of feelings is both effortless and comforting.
I am so sorry you’ve had such tremendous losses. It would be very hard to move forward after the tragic loss of your baby, let alone your children’s father who you would of shared and communicated so many experiences and conversations together. I will be honored to share and sending you peace and love. 💕🙏💕
zoey.otoole
Thank you, Mary. You are right about the “especially for those who have suffered many losses.” Bill’s parents divorced when he was about 13 and his mother, the person he loved most in the world, died when he was 18 and finishing up high school. He had never fully processed his feelings around those losses. And I lost my oldest brother when I was 12 and my father when I was 27. The deck was stacked against us being able to handle Zane’s loss well together.