I’m not a huge baseball fan. Heck, I’m not even a fan. The little I know of baseball came from hanging with my late hubby on the couch as he rooted for his beloved Mets.
On Sunday, September 25th when news broke that Florida Marlins pitcher José D. Fernández and two friends died in a tragic boating accident, you didn’t need to be a fan of the game to grasp the magnitude of the loss.
Within days of José’s death, the media mentioned his pregnant girlfriend, carrying their first child. Not long after, there was speculation that he was out on the town because of an argument the two may have had.
My heart broke for her. She was dealing with such an unexpected loss in a very public manner. She’s grieving while the eyes of the public monitor and scrutinize her every move.
I recently reached out to a group of young widows whose husbands’ deaths made local and national headlines. Did being in the public eye create another layer of support or did it negatively impact the grieving process?
For Donna*, the public nature of her fiancé’s death caused her tremendous pain. He had been traveling and was shot and killed while at a hotel.
“His death made the news in that city and our home city. Thankfully, the local news agreed to leave my name out the news stories but it was in the obituary,” she said. “Because of where he was killed, there was speculation that he was involved in a drug deal or prostitution.”
In reality, her fiancé had been cheating with a woman he met online and she set him up to be robbed.
“The publicity didn’t last long but it resulted in a lot of embarrassment and shame,” said Donna. “They haven’t caught the killers yet. I fear the publicity when they do and the whole story comes out.”
Fellow widow Paula* can relate to the burden of having a loved one’s death make the papers. When her husband passed away, it made national news. He died while teaching a fitness class at the gym.
“When I arrived, the room was full and strangers were staring at me,” she explained. “My phone was ringing off the hook as the gym employees and people in the gym where ringing their mates and posting on Facebook. My husband’s and my family mostly live overseas which meant I had to ring them before they saw the information on Facebook. It was heart breaking.”
The gym’s personnel granted an interview to the paper without Paula’s permission. She was forced to fend off reporters who wanted her feedback. Considering Paula and her husband were private people, the media attention was unwelcomed and quickly became a circus.
“After the funeral, a staff member from the gym rang me to ask if they could do a special class for my hubby and put it on the newspaper,” she said. “I said no but they did it anyway. Again, I had to avoid reporters.”
Paula says she understands that people mourn in their own ways but wishes she’d been given some time alone with her husband when he collapsed. The comments she continues to get this day—nearly two years later—still bother her.
“I go to the bank and I hear, ‘Oh, I knew someone who was at the gym when it happened’. Or, I’ll meet someone and she’ll say, ‘Oh, my cousin was in the class’. I just walk away as they don’t understand,” Paula said. “I don’t care about their friend or cousin. It was my husband that died, and mine and my kids’ world have now changed forever.”
Though Donna and Paula had negative experiences with publicly grieving the loss of a partner, there were others who felt it was a blessing to have their grief shared with so many others.
Andrea* is one such example. As the primary pediatrician in a “smallish” town married to a well-known professional fighter who own gyms, the couple was well regarded.
“My husband shot himself and I felt like being in a small community helped. The police officers and detectives on the scene the night he died actually knew us and started talking about all his head trauma to me…while I was still in shock, not even comprehending what happened,” she said. “The outpouring of love was tremendous, even in the fighting community. Most people seemed to understand what happened to him – and his brain – faster than I even accepted it.”
Having the entire town aware of her husband’s death has allowed her to openly discuss it with many people. She said when she wants to cry, she can, even if it’s in public. Most people will come up and offer a hug.
Shana*, a young widow, lost her spouse to occupational cancer. He was a lieutenant in the fire department. She admits she was very open about his cancer journey, posting updates to Facebook.
“Our phone wouldn’t stop ringing,” said Shana. “So many other firefighters are stricken with cancer, and we wanted people to share our story and allow others to be able to witness God at work.”
During her husband’s illness, he was hospitalized 18 times in one year. His fellow firefighters came to visit often. They mowed the couple’s yard, brought meals for the family, made repairs to Shana’s house, and kept her husband’s company during his medical appointments.
“Although overwhelming, we received these blessings with humble hearts,” she said. “Pictures from fire departments and public servants from all over the world poured in; all holding signs saying, “You’ve got this!”. The furthest was Thailand. Over 400 uniformed firefighters marched behind the funeral procession and over 1,000 people were at his services. We were so blessed to have so many people that were willing to drop everything and help.”
It seems a public tragedy can be a double-edged sword. On one hand, the media’s need to report the news and the details surrounding the tragedy can negatively impact the grieving widow. The gossip and judgement that may result from the article often creates additional stress during an already difficult time. A death that makes headlines, however, can also encourage the people of the town to rally around the surviving spouse. Whether providing meals or a shoulder to cry on, the outpouring of love may be just what a widow needs to get through each day.
The next time you read about a fellow resident becoming widowed, I encourage you to choose the latter. Offer support and compassion, not innuendos and accusations.
* Names changed to protect members’ privacy
Mom to a feisty preschooler, Kerry Phillips became widowed at age 32. She runs an online support group for young widows and widowers venturing back into the world of dating and is a blogger for The Huffington Post.
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