The following is an edited extract from Kate Christie’s The Life List: Master Every Moment and Live an Audacious Life, published with the permission of the author and Wiley.
A month after I turned 50, my husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Eleven months later he was gone. We were separated but not divorced and I was still getting used to calling him my 'ex'. Grieving the death of an 'ex' husband is a complicated grief. To start with, what do I even call myself?
After Dan’s death, most people didn’t really know how to engage or interact with me and so they carefully tiptoed around me. Mostly they asked after my children, but they were at a loss as to how to touch on my pain, and so they didn’t. They engaged with me purely as the mother of children who were grieving. And I completely understand this, because I had already lost him as my husband.
But my loss and grief were and continue to be very deep. I grieve for losing him twice. I grieve for my children’s loss of their dad. I grieve for the years we don’t get to co-parent and to rebuild our friendship. I miss him.
Loss and perspective.
With the passing of time I have the capacity and the perspective to look at the end of my marriage and my ex-husband’s death through multiple lenses.
There is the lens where I realise that we just weren’t in love anymore. And it was okay for him to want to feel really loved again, by someone else.
There is the lens where I realise we had wonderful times and awful times and now I really just prefer to remember all that was wonderful. Part of my job as a mum to grieving children is to help them remember the wonderful too.
There is the lens where I know I did all the heavy lifting with our children during our marriage and after our separation. But that was a gift to me — because I got to spend all of my time with the most amazing people in the world. I have the memories, the love, the joy, the laughter, the pain, the scars and the angst. I have all of that and I treasure it.
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