Grief, as you might have sadly discovered, is like a river that takes us where it wants us to go. We can’t stop those heartbreaking reality waves of anguish but we can learn to once again drift with purpose. Getting there is rough, because no matter how many well-meaning friends tell you “time heals all wounds,” there are just some losses we get “through” but we never get “over.” No grief is like your grief because no relationship was quite like yours.
Grieving the loss of a loved one is horrific enough, but it is even harder when you’re a member of the LGBTQ community. I know. I’ve felt this disenfranchised grief. Gay grief is marginalized. Many of us, depending on where we live and what kind of network we have, are excluded from experiencing society’s mourning process.
My girlfriend of 14.5 years died five years before same sex marriage was made legal. While I was the health care proxy and caregiver, I’m haunted that I was not able to file a wrongful death suit regarding medical malpractice because I was not an “immediate family” member. I was not invited to the funeral hosted by her family. And compared to many of my gay sisters and brothers, I got off easy.
There are thousands of members of our community who cannot even tell their employers that the love of their life has died for fear of losing their job, and much worse.
We’ve made significant inroads in the past decade. But despite legislation on same-sex marriage, a push for tougher anti-hate crime laws, and the World Health Organization’s declassification of transgender people as ‘mentally ill,’ the prejudice has not gone away.
The current administration has unleashed a culture of hate that is once again stacking the deck against us. They have erased LGBTQ terminology from various government forms. Beautiful families with same-sex parents are scrambling to lock down their rights in the event that rulings are overturned. Many are forced to conceal their true selves for fear of harassment. This dread and anxiety, especially among our trans family members, is making access to proper healthcare a terrifying experience.
Homosexuality is illegal in 73 countries. While not criminal in the U.S., there is a menacing climate present that ranges from wedding cake controversies to harassment and beatings.
If you lose your precious love, you might be denied a proper grieving process. This grief is forceful, commanding and unpredictable. We must grieve the loss of our loved one and the person we became with our love by our side.
If a long-term illness is the ultimate cause of death, will the medical staff be considerate and respectful of your relationship? How will you manage the discussions with the funeral home and cemetery arrangements? Will it be difficult to deal with your dear mate’s family? Are you afraid to tell your boss and co-workers about your relationship? These are questions straight people never have to ask.
Gay grief is often not taken as seriously as the bereavement process is for a hetero relationship. Co-workers, neighbors, and so forth, might not have any gay people in their circle of friends and don’t know what to say. They might not even try to console you. You might be completely ignored.
It’s important to stick close to like-minded people, your LGBTQ family, friends and straight allies. The good kids on the block. If your gay community is small or non-existent, reach out to online resources including the Human Rights Campaign, The Trevor Project and Parents & Friends of Lesbians & Gays (PFLAG) to make connections.
Look for a place to put your pain. Create a memory box with notes, cards, mementoes and souvenirs of your love. Write a letter and say all the things you wished you had time to say. Schedule a grieving session with yourself every day or week until the rushing river begins to subside a bit. Consider joining a grief group, but wait for the loss to really settle in — that could take four to six months.
Finding a gay grief group is, of course, the optimum situation. Talk about your grief with caring people. Reminisce. It helps.
A naming opportunity offers much solace. Find a charity building a walkway or other structure and buy a brick, for example, with your loved one’s name on it. Contribute to a program that places park benches in your town inscribed with your loved one’s name. If this is not an option, plant a flowering shrub or tree to honor your lost love. Watch it flourish and blossom every spring.
Plan holidays and special dates of observance in advance so you won’t be alone or succumb to last minute plans with callous people who don’t, won’t or can’t acknowledge your loss.
Join organizations, get involved. You might be able to help someone who is also grieving this traumatic death of a love.
Above all, be grateful for the time you spent with this cherished partner. Your life was better for having them in your world. It changed you, it shaped you. Take the golden moments with you. Grief is a war, but you are a survivor.
‘They say you’ve got three months to live.” These were the words I spoke to my then-fiancé when I was 23 years old after learning that his cancer – malignant melanoma that spread to his liver, lungs, pancreas and brain – was likely to be fatal.
At the time, my only experience of “the end” was watching my parents disappear into a room where my grandparents were lying, and of seeing an empty rabbit hut at the end of our garden after the loss of a pet.
When I was 17 years old my father was paralysed from Hodgkins Lymphoma but, after a stem cell transplant, he defeated the odds and made a miraculous recovery. So, I had faith in the power of modern medicine over mortality.
However, not this time.
I was practically still a child when a doctor ushered me into a private room, whilst my soon-to-be husband, Eoghan, was in a chemotherapy session, and revealed his prognosis. I asked if I could be the one to tell him, and they readily agreed.
Perhaps, even doctors will do anything to avoid saying the T-word. Terminal.
In the next three months, I had a crash course in end-of-life conversation: the jargon, the euphemisms and the social awkwardness.
I froze with fear when I walked into the chemo ward and heard another patient ask my partner, “Have you ever thought about euthanasia?” But, in a way, that was better than the wall of silence.
After my husband died three weeks after our wedding day, even my closest friends evaporated or became stiff in my company. In the next few months, as I rebelled against my grief – drinking too much and becoming promiscuous – nobody dared challenge me or raise the topics I ached to discuss.
What on earth are you doing?
Do you really think this is helping you?
How does it feel to marry a man who is dying?
…Do you want to die too?
Do you know what to say when a friend’s loved one dies? Have you thought about the day your own parent, partner or best friend may no longer be visible? How would you discuss it, in a way that would be supportive, constructive, and even light-hearted?
If you don’t know the answer, you’re not alone.
A new study from the Royal College of Physicians in the UK has urged medical professionals to improve their bedside manner when it comes to discussing death, after identifying that “timely, honest conversations” about patients’ futures are not happening. However it’s not only doctors who need to become more comfortable with these conversations.
It’s been suggested that millennials are the generation most fearful of death, unlike our grandparents, raised through world wars, who learnt that life can be short. As medicine advances and life expectancy increases, we prefer to think of death as our “future self’s problem”.
But is postponing the inevitable increasing our terror of it?
As psychologists report a rise in young people presenting with anxiety linked to death, it’s time for honest, open, educational conversations about loss of life, and how it can look. Its not enough to be aware of Facebook’s ‘death policy’, warn experts.
“Death is still a certainty even if people are living longer,” says clinical psychologist Renee Mill from Sydney’s Anxiety Solutions CBT.
“When treating anxiety, exposure is what works and avoidance increases the problem. Talking about death or visiting a dying person will decrease your fear of death and make it easier to accept that it is a part of life. Every funeral we attend, no matter how hard, actually helps to reduce anxiety in this way too.”
And, it’s never too early to think about the end. “Planning in life is important,” says Mill. “We plan our careers, we save, we want to buy property – end-of-life is another part we need to plan. It means we get our wishes fulfilled and gives guidance to our loved ones who otherwise have to pick up the pieces.”
In a good way, change is happening. Since 2017, the multimedia project We’re All Going to Die has encouraged people to embrace their immortality and use it to empower their lives, through educational films and festivals.
The award-winning podcast, GriefCast, hosted by comedian Cariad Lloyd whose father died when she was a teenager, sees entertainers speak with startling honesty – and surprising humour – about death, from the logistics of palliative care and funeral plans to the long-term effects of bereavement.
When we can talk openly about death, we may also increase our chances of reducing suicides. To help people to help each other, Lifeline offer an online course in QPR – the equivalent of CPR for people experiencing a suicidal crisis.
As part of the training – which only takes an hour and costs $10 – people are urged not to tiptoe around the conversations. Instead, be direct: “Do you feel like you want to die?”
In our social circles, we need to discuss worst-case-scenarios. Do you have a will? Do you have death insurance? Are you an organ donor? As an Australian immigrant living 16,000 kilometres from my parents, I always have enough money in my bank account for an emergency flight home. Because, nobody lives forever.
It’s confronting but it’s necessary
During my book tour, I cried on stage for the first time whilst discussing my journey from a 23-year-old widow to a 34-year-old wife and mother of two. Because, for the first time in a decade, I have reached a place where I can talk about my experience of death – and really be heard.
I shared the reason I light a candle in my bedroom every evening and say a prayer: help me to act from a place of love, not fear.
“If my dad’s cancer comes back, on that day I will light that candle,” I said, “If my husband, who is here with my newborn, dies and I am widowed again then I will light that candle to remind myself to act from a place of love.”
We need to talk about death to be active participants in the full spectrum of life: so we can decide who to be when a doctor pulls us into a private room, when we answer the phone to bad news, when we say goodbye for the last time.
We are so scared of death, we don’t discuss what an honour it is to watch someone die; to be present – really present – when someone takes their last breath, to lean in and breathe them in, to put your head on their chest as their heart stops beating and kiss their skin as it transforms.
A loved one’s suicide can be emotionally devastating. Use healthy coping strategies — such as seeking support — to begin the journey to healing and acceptance.
When a loved one dies by suicide, overwhelming emotions can leave you reeling. Your grief might be heart wrenching. At the same time, you might be consumed by guilt — wondering if you could have done something to prevent your loved one’s death.
As you face life after a loved one’s suicide, remember that you don’t have to go through it alone.
Brace for powerful emotions
A loved one’s suicide can trigger intense emotions. For example:
Shock. Disbelief and emotional numbness might set in. You might think that your loved one’s suicide couldn’t possibly be real.
Anger. You might be angry with your loved one for abandoning you or leaving you with a legacy of grief — or angry with yourself or others for missing clues about suicidal intentions.
Guilt. You might replay “what if” and “if only” scenarios in your mind, blaming yourself for your loved one’s death.
Despair. You might be gripped by sadness, loneliness or helplessness. You might have a physical collapse or even consider suicide yourself.
Confusion. Many people try to make some sense out of the death, or try to understand why their loved one took his or her life. But, you’ll likely always have some unanswered questions.
Feelings of rejection. You might wonder why your relationship wasn’t enough to keep your loved one from dying by suicide.
You might continue to experience intense reactions during the weeks and months after your loved one’s suicide — including nightmares, flashbacks, difficulty concentrating, social withdrawal and loss of interest in usual activities — especially if you witnessed or discovered the suicide.
Dealing with stigma
Many people have trouble discussing suicide, and might not reach out to you. This could leave you feeling isolated or abandoned if the support you expected to receive just isn’t there.
Additionally, some religions limit the rituals available to people who’ve died by suicide, which could also leave you feeling alone. You might also feel deprived of some of the usual tools you depended on in the past to help you cope.
Adopt healthy coping strategies
The aftermath of a loved one’s suicide can be physically and emotionally exhausting. As you work through your grief, be careful to protect your own well-being.
Keep in touch. Reach out to loved ones, friends and spiritual leaders for comfort, understanding and healing. Surround yourself with people who are willing to listen when you need to talk, as well as those who’ll simply offer a shoulder to lean on when you’d rather be silent.
Grieve in your own way. Do what’s right for you, not necessarily someone else. There is no single “right” way to grieve. If you find it too painful to visit your loved one’s gravesite or share the details of your loved one’s death, wait until you’re ready.
Be prepared for painful reminders. Anniversaries, holidays and other special occasions can be painful reminders of your loved one’s suicide. Don’t chide yourself for being sad or mournful. Instead, consider changing or suspending family traditions that are too painful to continue.
Don’t rush yourself. Losing someone to suicide is a tremendous blow, and healing must occur at its own pace. Don’t be hurried by anyone else’s expectations that it’s been “long enough.”
Expect setbacks. Some days will be better than others, even years after the suicide — and that’s OK. Healing doesn’t often happen in a straight line.
Consider a support group for families affected by suicide. Sharing your story with others who are experiencing the same type of grief might help you find a sense of purpose or strength. However, if you find going to these groups keeps you ruminating on your loved one’s death, seek out other methods of support.
Know when to seek professional help
If you experience intense or unrelenting anguish or physical problems, ask your doctor or mental health provider for help. Seeking professional help is especially important if you think you might be depressed or you have recurring thoughts of suicide. Unresolved grief can turn into complicated grief, where painful emotions are so long lasting and severe that you have trouble resuming your own life.
Depending on the circumstances, you might benefit from individual or family therapy — either to get you through the worst of the crisis or to help you adjust to life after suicide. Short-term medication can be helpful in some cases, too.
Face the future with a sense of peace
In the aftermath of a loved one’s suicide, you might feel like you can’t go on or that you’ll never enjoy life again.
In truth, you might always wonder why it happened — and reminders might trigger painful feelings even years later. Eventually, however, the raw intensity of your grief will fade. The tragedy of the suicide won’t dominate your days and nights.
Understanding the complicated legacy of suicide and how to cope with palpable grief can help you find peace and healing, while still honoring the memory of your loved one.
The classroom was escalating quickly. With one, swift kick, the desk that perfectly fit a 9-year-old body crashed over, papers and colored pencils strewn about the floor. For being a thin, slight boy, Gabriel had a lot of strength.
It was a scene that happened every month or so. The teacher and the kids knew what to do: Stand back and give Gabe space until he calmed down enough for the principal to walk him to the office. His parent would be called, and he would go home.
What is wrong with Gabe?
Gabe’s parent is at wit’s end. Home life has been hard the past few years, ever since Gabe’s older brother was killed in a hunting accident. The parents have managed to stay together, and with two other young children, plus Gabe’s growing special needs, the parent is at a loss as to how to help Gabe. The principal is equally as frustrated. These classroom episodes can’t continue because they jeopardize everyone’s safety and learning environment.
Is Gabe oppositional defiant? Does he have ADHD, a developmental disability, or a learning disorder? Perhaps a battery of special education testing or an IEP(individualized education plan) is needed. That thought only increases the anxiety within Gabe’s parent. How will a diagnosis like this impact Gabe throughout his lifetime?
There are millions of grieving children in the United States. With increases in school violence, mass casualty events, and accidents, those numbers are expected to rise. Grief and loss are hard to talk about, and parents and concerned adults often are at a loss for resources.
It’s easy to assume that children who experience a loss like death, or a trauma like a community disaster, are grieving children. Indeed, they are. What about kids like Gabe? Gabe’s brother died years ago … surely Gabe is over that by now. Or is he?
The No.1 mistake
Adults make a big mistake when it comes to grieving children: Assuming that children process their grief verbally.
Have you ever heard a child younger than 14 say, “I’m going through my anger stage,” or “I’ve accepted my loss?” I haven’t, unless they were parroting an adult. Children’s brains are usually not developed enough to process information — traumatic or otherwise — in language. They respond to stressors (e.g., loss and trauma) through their behavior and emotions.
Adults typically recognize the Five Stages of Grief theory developed in 1969 by Swiss-American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. This approach has been effective to heal grief. It requires the ability to process sophisticated emotions — shock, denial, anger, bargaining, acceptance — by talking about them. Children don’t yet have the brain capability to process their loss this way.
What works best with grieving children
Instead, we need to meet grieving children where they are at, using interventions that work for them. Gabe’s mother, school counselor, or teacher could try these strategies:
Address grief before considering any other diagnosis. This could be done through meeting with the school counselor, therapy outside of school, and/or parent-child interventions at home.
Don’t expect Gabe to verbalize feelings about his loss. Instead, expect a wide range of behavior — anything from behavioral acting out, high anxiety, perfectionism or withdrawal.
Be aware that high-intensity activity might trigger high-intensity emotions. Plan ahead, and have a “Plan B” (an alternate activity) ready if Gabe needs it.
Respond to the feeling behind misbehavior (loss) whenever possible.
Provide materials for Gabe to express feelings about his loss in non-verbal ways. Art supplies, toys, books and sensory objects (e.g., sand and bean trays) are great tools.
The older Gabe gets, the more capable he will be of working through his feelings through reason and language. In the meantime, it’s important that we adults don’t miss the fact that he is grieving. Let’s not call it a behavioral problem, or otherwise mislabel it, until he has been able to process his grief in the way his 9-year-old brain is able to.
Death and grief are natural parts of the human experience, but mourning a loss is also an incredibly complex process.
When a young child loses a loved one, parents often grapple with the challenge of explaining the concept of death and helping their little one through the grieving process (all while grieving themselves).
To help inform these difficult conversations, HuffPost spoke to a number of child mental health experts. Of course, a family’s cultural and religious background may steer the discussion, but there are certain guiding principles that are helpful for everyone to keep in mind.
Here are some expert suggestions for parents and caregivers when they prepare to talk about death and grief with children.
Be Honest And Straightforward
“Tell them the ‘facts’ about the death,” clinical psychologist John Mayer told HuffPost. “Don’t sugarcoat what death is or use ‘baby talk’ with a child. Do not use phrases like, ‘Grammy is sleeping.’ This is an opportune time to teach them about death. Don’t shy away from it.”
Board certified licensed professional counselor Tammy Lewis Wilborn echoed this sentiment, noting that using “cutesy language” and euphemisms in an attempt to protect kids from the realities of death and loss can actually do more harm than good.
“Children tend to think concretely, not abstractly, so when you use language that’s euphemistic, it can actually be more confusing or frustrating,” she explained. When people say things like “Dad is in the clouds” or “Your dad is taking a really long nap,” a young child may not understand the permanence of the fact that their father died and might even look for him in the clouds or expect him to wake up at some point.
Words like “death,” “died” or “dying” may sound harsh, but this is still developmentally appropriate language, Wilborn noted, and it’s important for children to have the language to understand the permanence of death.
Ask And Answer Questions
The kind of conversation a parent has with a child following the death of a loved one depends on the child’s relationship with the person who died. It should also vary based on the child’s developmental age and their understanding of what happens when someone dies. To that end, it’s useful to ask kids questions or offer to answer any questions they might have.
“Starting with questions can be a way in,” said Wilborn. “And you don’t necessarily need to give the specific details of how the person died, particularly if we’re dealing with traumatic grief. They don’t need all of the information, but they need enough age-appropriate details to understand that a person has died and isn’t coming back.”
Sometimes children may have witnessed something related to the loved one’s death, like being present at the scene of an accident or visiting the person in the hospital. In these cases, they need help understanding what they saw, said Chandra Ghosh Ippen, an expert in early childhood trauma and the associate director of the Child Trauma Research Program at the University of California, San Francisco.
Parents should try to shrink themselves down to the size of their child and walk through what they’ve experienced. Seeing someone in a hospital with tubes coming out of them or watching paramedics perform lifesaving procedures may be frightening for a small child, so it’s necessary for adults to appreciate how scary things might look to them.
“Create space for them to share how it might’ve affected them, and try to help them understand that doctors and paramedics were trying to help their loved one,” Ghosh Ippen explained.
It’s an ongoing conversation. “Young children will often come back to you after your very excellent explanation of death and still ask, ‘Am I going to see so-and-so?’” Ghosh Ippen said. “It’s not that they didn’t understand you, but little kids tend to repeat their questions. It’s sort of their way of mulling it over and making meaning. This can be painful for caregivers, but appreciate that the child did hear you and is just having a difficult time wrapping their head around the concept of death.”
Know That Their Emotions Are Complicated
“Grief is a complex process, so it comes with a range of thoughts, emotions and behaviors,” Wilborn explained. While parents may expect their child to feel sad, angry, confused or even guilty about a loss, there are other behavioral changes that can be harder to understand, like changes in sleeping and eating patterns or school performance issues.
Sometimes parents may feel confused about a perceived lack of sadness in their kids. “Young children have a short sadness span,” said Ghosh Ippen. “A child can suffer a devastating loss and feel really sad, and then they can go play. You may be thinking, ‘Were they really affected by what happened?’”
While adults tend to immobilize and sink into sadness, kids often discharge it by running around or trying to do something else. “They kind of go in and out of sadness, and that can put us at odds with them if we’re thinking, ‘Oh, my God, do they not care?’” she continued. “But recognize that they did care.”
Wilborn noted that grief is a long process, so parents should reject the tendency to want to rush past it and wonder when their kids are going to be over it.
“Grief is a process that you cannot go around. You have to go through it. So you need to be OK with the pace of the process,” she said. “It can take some time for a child to return to his or her normal.”
Mayer emphasized the power of this experience and of talking to kids about death as a way to build major developmental coping skills. “This is a positive and helps them cope with loss in their life in the future and even transitions in their life, such as leaving one school to another, advancing to high school or college, and losing relationships.”
“Children need to see that their parents are a resource; home is a resource where grief is welcome,” Wilborn said, noting that parents should encourage age-appropriate expressions of grief.
“For example with a school-aged, play is their language, so you want to lean into ways that children play to promote communication ― things like drawing pictures, playing games, dolls, puppet shows at home,” she added. “With older kids, you might encourage them to journal, draw, write songs, create poems.”
Mayer noted that being a resource for your child creates a sense of safety and security that will serve them in later life events. “They know they can depend on you, and it is wonderful modeling for them.”
Creating rituals around remembering and honoring a loved one who died is another significant form of expression. “Explain that this person may not be here with us, but we can still remember him or her and celebrate their life as a family,” said Wilborn.
“When the death is really traumatic, sometimes caregivers stop talking about the person who died,” Ghosh Ippen explained. “And what’s hard in those cases is that children lose their ‘angel memories’ ― times when they really felt loved and cared for with that person. It’s normal for grown-ups in mourning to find it hard to talk about the person who died, but it’s important to memorialize them.”
Many cultures and religions promote rituals around saying goodbye and making meaning of death. Mayer noted that losing a loved one presents an opportunity for parents who have religious belief systems to explain these tenets to their children.
“Religious or not, it is also very helpful to teach your children that all the experiences and memories you have had with this loved one do not get erased with their death. People always live in our hearts and our minds forever, and no one or nothing can take that away,” he explained. “Say something like, ‘Where’s Aunt Susie right now? She’s not in this room with us right now, correct? That doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist.’ Aunt Susie is here (point to your head) and here (point to your heart). We have to keep our memories and good times with Aunt Susie alive.”
Make Sure They Know It’s Not Their Fault
“Sometimes children have this really uncanny way of assigning blame to themselves for things that have nothing to do with them,” said Wilborn.
With that in mind, caregivers need to help kids understand that the death is in no way their fault, and it’s not their responsibility to put on a strong face or hide their feelings.
Use Books And Other Resources
There are many great resources for parents navigating this difficult topic with their children. Ghosh Ippen and Wilborn both recommend Sesame Street’s online grief toolkit, which provides talking points, videos, activities, storybooks and more. Ghosh Ippen and Wilborn also pointed to the National Child Traumatic Stress Network as another great source of online resources.
Beyond books and online resources, Wilborn emphasized the value of community resources, such as school counseling, support groups, play therapy and peer counseling.
Let Them See You Grieve
The way a child’s parents or caregivers respond to a loss is instrumental in helping them cope. “They need to see you grieve,” said Wilborn. “But they also need to see you taking care of yourself and engaging in self-care, which may or may not include professional help. If you don’t, they may feel like they have to take care of you because you’re not managing grief in a way that’s healthy.”
It’s OK to cry in front of your children and show the value of expressing emotions and having shared emotions among family members. It’s OK to say things like “I’m feeling really sad because my dad died” or “Daddy is sad because he misses his mom.”
“Within our culture, we often have a sense that we have to be tough, so many parents are trying to help their kids by putting on a brave or overly cheery face,” said Ghosh Ippen. “But that can seem really odd and confusing. The child is feeling sad because it’s devastating that this person is gone, but then the parent is cheery ― which can feel eerie and weird.”
Ultimately, it’s about conveying the idea that “Mom is sad, and Mom is also strong,” she continued. If the feelings of grief become overwhelming, parents should seek help from other sources because it’s not their child’s role to help them.
“It’s important for little kids to believe that grown-ups are bigger, wiser and stronger,” said Ghosh Ippen. “We are not going to fall apart, and if we are going to fall apart, other grown-ups are going to help us.”
Till death do us part – but what comes after that final, bleak separation? For lucky Rio Ferdinand, it has meant a new bride and a second chance at happiness.
Three years after his wife, Rebecca, died of cancer, the former footballer is to marry his girlfriend, Kate Wright. He proposed to her in front of his children on a rooftop during a holiday in Abu Dhabi. Everyone is apparently thrilled.
“You can’t even remember what it’s like to feel happy. And then, bam, out of the blue, you meet someone and everything changes,” loved-up Rio told his biographer, the journalist Decca Aitkenhead.
In a recent interview with The Sunday Times, he also encouraged her to follow in his footsteps and find love after suffering her own bereavement.
“You need to get out there and meet someone too. Trust me – you’ll see what I mean,” he said.
In 2014, Aitkenhead’s partner, Tony Wilkinson, drowned in Jamaica while trying to rescue their four-year-old son (who survived), leaving her a single mother of two young boys.
When she began contemplating her future without him, she initially worried she’d be romantically taken advantage of as a widow. Now, she wryly concludes that what wise friends told her nearly five years ago has turned out to be true.
While widowers seem to become ten times more alluring to the opposite sex practically overnight, men are not attracted to widows in the same way. Look at Decca: attractive, intelligent, successful – and still single. Love after death certainly seems much easier to achieve for men.
A year after his wife, Gemma, died of cancer, and vowing that she would never be replaced, Sky Sports presenter Simon Thomas has just announced that he is in a relationship with a new girlfriend.
“From the early stages, she had this empathy towards me. She’s been an incredible support for me,” he said, which tends to suggest their relationship has at least partly revolved around him and his grief.
Not all men would be so empathetic if the circumstances were reversed. Some might say 12 months is far too early for a fresh romance, but Thomas has a young son and found the loneliness of widower-hood “brutal”.
Perhaps one reason why men find new love more successfully than women is that they are less likely to have close friends they can talk to, or a social and emotional support network to help them through bereavement. Or perhaps they are just more selfish.
A recent study found two-thirds of widowers were in a new relationship within 25 months, in contrast to less than a fifth of widows. Over the age of 65, the discrepancy is even larger, with ten times as many widowers as widows remarrying.
But don’t worry, ladies, it’s not all doom and gloom. Becoming widowed is associated with a 48 percent increase in risk of mortality.
So, if you are really miserable, you can cheer yourself up with the thought you’re going to die soon anyway. Excuse my jest! For what else is there to do but cackle with dark humour when contemplating this sea of wifely despair?
But why is there such divergence between the sexes in love after death? The fragile male ego, Decca Aitkenhead is warned, cannot reconcile itself to the indignity of a relationship with a woman still in love with someone else.
Most men don’t want to be the second choice or to feel inferior, whereas women find it easier to show a kind of deference to their predecessor, as they know it’s expected of them.
They also know that men are hopeless by themselves, so they make themselves indispensable. They mould and adapt emotionally in ways men find more difficult.
And we cannot overlook the romantic allure of a widower with young children and the torrent of feelings, both maternal and carnal, that can arouse in a woman.
According to the old saying, women mourn, men replace – and hopefully with a younger model, if the devils can possibly get away with it. Instead of forever dwelling on the past, many men aspire to repeat the happiness they knew as husbands, sometimes aided by women who see bereavement as opportunity, not tragedy.
After his wife’s death, Rio Ferdinand talked often about risking a new relationship and revealed that, in the past, he had judged the bereaved harshly.
If a widower began dating within five years of losing his wife, it was Rio’s belief “he never really loved her”. Now he says that if a husband started dating the day after the funeral, he wouldn’t be appalled any more. He would understand. Who is anyone to judge?
Most men and women would want their surviving spouses to be happy above all – to love and be loved in the years to come.