Being young and unmarried when your parnter dies brings with it a whole new set of challenges: from being told you’re too young to really know what love is, to having your grief dismissed because “it’s not like you were married.” For the LGBTQ community, not being allowed legal status brings even more difficulty. Delegitimzing someone’s loss is just one facet of our grief-averse culture.
We’re so weird with grief in this culture – compassion is a scarce resource, so we’ve got to battle for what’s ours. Making someone elses’ grief less-than is one big way we try to protect our own hearts and minds against loss. Humans are odd that way.
In this essay for the Washington Post, I share a snippet of my own story. Most of the comments and feedback have been awesome – a lot of “me too!” going around. But there are the usual cranky folks who say “you have to cut people some slack. No one knows what to say, and they’re doing the best they can.” Yep. And as I say in my book, if you truly want to support the people you care about, you need to be willing to hear that what you’re doing or saying isn’t helpful. If you’re not willing to feel that discomfort, then you’re not actually interested in being helpful – you’re interested in appearing helpful. There’s a difference.
Be sure to click the link below to read the whole article, then come on back here and share your experience of being young, unmarried, or otherwise dismissed in your grief because of your age or legal status.
Being young & unmarried when your parnter dies brings a whole new set of challenges: many people just don't see your loss as real or serious. But grief doesn't hurt less when you're young. Click To TweetMy partner of five years drowned on a beautiful, ordinary summer day in 2009. Matt was strong, fit, healthy — and needed regular doses of the river and the woods to keep himself sane. We used to joke that he was half mountain goat, able to scale the face of waterfalls if need be.
On that day, the first sunny day after several weeks of rain, we went out to the Presumpscot River, our usual place. Matt went in for a swim while I stayed in the woods with our dog. When he called out for help, I turned to see him let go of the tree he was clinging to, swept away by a flood-swollen current. The dog and I ran in after him, trying to save him, but we were carried two miles downriver by the same unusually fast current. Matt’s body was found by search teams three hours later.
Just that morning we had been planning our move from Maine to Florida. By that evening, the condolences were coming in:
“You’re young and pretty! You’ll find someone else. I promise, it’s going to be okay.”
Continue reading the article on the Washington Post at this link.
How about you? If you weren’t legally married, or you were widowed at what others consider a young age, did that change how your grief was viewed? Share your experience in the comments.
Anna Bunda-West says
August 26, 2018 at 8:17 amMy brother passed away when we were kids. He was 12y.o. and I was 11y.o. I don’t remember grieving for my brother although we’re so close like everyday we go to school together coming home together after school and play.
But I witnessed my mom’s grief every night for how long I don’t remember. I remember comforting my mom because my dad went back to work overseas.
My mom just passed away 5 months ago and I was 46y.o. I never thought I would have this much grief. I thought I was ready to let go of my mom but when she was gone, I felt so much pain. I can’t understand.
Bob Millsap says
August 26, 2018 at 10:21 pmI came across your Washington Post article this morning and it was so relatable to me. I am a lot further along in my journey…almost 28 years now. Last year I started writing about it, which has really helped me (as well as others). Here’s my recently published version of how time has gone… http://www.lovewhatmatters.com/i-smiled-kissed-her-and-said-i-love-you-thats-the-last-time-i-saw-dana-the-next-morning-she-died-instantly/
Blessings to you and keep up the great work.
Bob
JM says
September 14, 2018 at 4:31 pmI’m 21, and my 21yo boyfriend passed a bit over a month ago. We were unmarried, but always talked about our future, and I truly believe we would have married once we were both able. We dated for 2.5 years [an eternity being gay and in college]. We also had a third partner of almost a year.
I recently visited my old highschool to check in, and one of my favorite teachers said, “you’re young, you’ll find someone.” While I know it’s hard to find ‘right’ things to say, this hurt considerably. How do you tell someone with good intentions you already have someone, but if you didn’t you wouldn’t be looking? I don’t want to move on. They were my The One.
Alicia says
November 11, 2018 at 5:59 amThis resonates. For one, my husband and I were together for two years before we could marry. I say “could” because even though we were/are “straight,” we both had physical disabilities. At first we’d been told by the Social Security Administration that if we married, we would lose our SSDI and Medicaid, among other things. I have many disabled friends who are unable to marry, because they have to choose legal marriage or medical coverage, marriage vs. food on the table. We dared not jeopardize income and medical coverage, especially not when the first round of cancer hit him. It was already stage four, doctors weren’t sure he’d live through it. In our hearts, we were husband and wife. Though I was not legally tied to him, there was no way I was going anywhere. I hated that we were in the battle for his life, but we got called “girlfriend/boyfriend.” We weren’t in high school, for Heaven’s sake! In mid 2016 we pressed through enough layers of governmental bureaucracy to learn that because we were both disabled, because SSDI was our only income, we’d come in just under the limits, and be able to keep benefits. We married aSAP after that. I saw how differently we were treated once we were married. I saw that even though we’d already been through a cancer fight, people finally considered us “a real couple.” I lost him nearly a year ago, after being married for 14 months. I know how easily my grief could have been dismissed, would have been dismissed, had he died in that first round with the cancer, before we knew marriage wouldn’t cost him his medical care. I am 38, he was 44. I’ve been told I’ll find someone else, encouraged to start dating again. Maybe some day, but right now, I’m not ready.