Permission Granted

When I was a freshman in college, I spent a brief period in a grief support group. I was reeling from the deaths of over a dozen friends in the previous few years. There was a young man who had recently lost his mom to cancer and a woman whose brother was killed the previous year in a head-on collision. Three other women rounded out the group. They had all miscarried.

All of our losses, although different in degree and detail, had much in common. But there was one factor missing for the ones who had suffered the loss of their unborn child; they didn’t feel like they had the right to grieve. Either explicitly or implied, they had all received the message from people around them that theirs was not a “real” death and that their level and duration of grief should match that fact. Their grief, rather than being supported, was minimized.

Unlike the rest of us, who were deemed “faultless” in our losses, these three women had faced accusations and associated guilt that they were somehow at fault. That they were responsible for their loss. They had the added burden of a sense of culpability and a target for blame.

I ached for these women.

Their loss was real. Their pain was real.

And the fact that their pain was downplayed and finger-pointed made their grief all the more real.

A divorce is a death.

Not of a person.

But of a marriage.

It is loss of the possibilities of the future.

It is collapse of a partnership and a family.

It is the cleaving of lives and often self.

And part of what makes divorce so difficult is that it is the demise of a marriage and yet there is a stigma attached to grieving its loss. There are no wakes, where loved ones gather and offer support. There are no obituaries published to disburse the news and quiet the rumors. You garner uneasy looks in you mention how you miss your spouse, especially if he or she is playing full-on offense in the divorce. There are no established rituals for mourning a marriage (and I don’t count the uptick in the often-gaudy “divorce party” a grieving ritual). And there are certainly no memorials planned.

It is a complicated grief. The person is still alive, yet the memories are now tarnished perhaps beyond recognition. They become sort a walking dead.

There is always a questioning and doubt as to what you could have done to alter the marital course. And it is a tricky path to walk between responsibility and needless guilt.

You may feel confusion because you initiated the divorce and yet you don’t understand why you are so sad to see the end you hoped for finally arrive.

You hear statements from others like, “My divorce is the best thing that has ever happened to me,” while you’re still reeling from the loss and grieving in silence.

The loss is real. The pain is real.

And the fact that the pain was downplayed and finger-pointed makes the grief all the more real.

So hold a funeral for your marriage, a sign of acknowledging the end and a first step of letting go. Take some tangible piece of the marriage (no, not your ex!) and release it through burial or a funerary pyre.

Write a eulogy for your marriage, telling the whole story from hopeful beginning to bitter end.

Plant a memorial tree symbolizing your roots in the marriage and your limitless growth above.

Re-purpose a memento from the marriage to serve as both a memory of what was and a reminder that you can transform your future.

It’s okay to mourn your marriage.

It’s okay to grieve your loss.

Permission granted.

Thank you for sharing!

6 thoughts on “Permission Granted

  1. kimberlyjo2016 – Hi, I am a mom to 2 grown boys and a new daughter (1 of my sons just got married!). I work by day at a very structured job but by night, I like to write. Really I like to write stories infused with humor. I like finding humor in everyday situations. I like to try to find the silver lining, the positive in the negative and the glass half full kind of attitude. So by writing, I can make my stories turn out however I want them to! I may even throw in some poetry, not rhyming poetry, just rambling lines that sync with my thoughts. I will also throw in some of my photos (forgot to mention I am an aspiring photographer too). I hope you enjoy my little stories, please let me know if any of them speak to you! Oh, and the name #angelonmyshoulderphotography, is because I have had so many miracles along the way that everyone would always comment that I must have an angel on my shoulder watching over me. So I got an beautiful angel tattoo on my shoulder and that's how the name came about. I think it suits me!
    kayjcee2014 says:

    Reblogged this on surfacing-finding your way after a divorce and commented:
    We were just talking about this yesterday. There are so many mixed emotions in divorce, and sometimes you seem to feel them all at once. Great post!

  2. Divorce is VERY MUCH like a death. I was surprised at how much it felt like one when I was going through it. One day the person you’re planning on spending the rest of your life with is there… and the next, they’re gone… and you can’t go back. Thanks for putting this so beautifully.

  3. My heart goes out to those women who lost their unborn children. I think not enough is spoken or written about those 9 months right from the start when you start feeling the life inside you.

    Though my heart goes out to you too, divorce is serious the pain is real atleast for the party who gave it their all – naively or otherwise but in this post of yours i feel more for those three women and am just sickened by this stupid society.

  4. bubbachubb – Hi, Welcome to my blog. Here is a little bit about me: I’m a 30 year Suddenly Single Mum of a 2 and a half year old.I am a Christian who is learning to love God and myself. In addition to that, I love reading, writing, exercise (crossfit) cooking and spending time with my daughter. Im interested in what makes people tick and how people navigate this crazy, mixed up, exciting world of ours. This blog is dedicated to my journey as a Single Mum, as a Christian and as flawed human to shed some light on the struggles, successes, lessons and adventures that life brings. I hope that it is an honest testament that brings hope and encouragement to others.
    bubbachubb says:


  5. Having my husband leave me was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to go through – even though I was not happy in the marriage and had contemplated leaving myself. It’s been seven months and there are still days that I get teary-eyed when I think about a particularly poignant memory. I was lucky to have some good friends who let me sob and cry and express my fears and hurt without ever making me feel like I was an inconvenience or burden. I don’t know what I would have done without them.

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