Two days before my boyfriend’s Mother passed away, I Googled, “how to help your partner when they lose their parent”. At the time, I found it largely unhelpful, too vague and full of platitudes while they urged you not the spew them. In hindsight, it was unfair to dismiss them, the death of a parent is a unique and singularly heartbreaking experience, so, of course they’d recommended things that were basically common sense. But there is much more to helping your partner during this undeniably complicated process beyond: “let them cry”, “give them space to grieve”, “be supportive”. If you’ve been with your significant other for any amount of time, and you’re not a complete sociopath, it’s like, no shit, Sherlock.
What you might not know is, families can be real assholes during these trying times, and not in the charming Death at Funeral sort of way, where in the end we all learn something and become closer despite our differences. But like actual self-centered, horrible people that you’ll call the C-word 300-ish times in front of a Verizon store. Or that you’ll experience a whole gamut of emotions besides sadness, like confusion and frustration around the comical avalanche of paperwork involved when someone dies, it might even start to feel like an intentional attack to put off the grieving process.
You might have to fight through your very human flight instincts to be there for your partner because it’s an unspoken (and can be a very rewarding) benefit of being in a relationship. You might think because it isn’t your own my parent, it’ll be easy to be the rock (literally and figuratively) and handle all the tough choices, but really, it’s nowhere near that simple. No one can predict how you’ll feel until you’re knee deep in a storage closet, covered in dust, crying, and hoping you’re doing this ‘right’ even though you’re not sure what the hell ‘right’ means in this context. The truth of the matter is: there’s only so much you can do for them, there will only be so much you can do as a team, and the rest your partner has to figure out on their own. This process has the undeniable chance of either breaking you apart or bringing you closer together.
That’s why this guide is incomplete. In many ways because grief is a honeybadger and it don’t give no fucks about where you are, what you’re doing, or what you had planned (personally, at the time, I was looking forward to eating ice cream and binge watching Daredevil that weekend); this is a time when you’ll be helpfully reminded that control is a hilarious joke we all tell ourselves.
No good phone call has ever happened at 5am unless you’re waiting to hear about your Oscar nomination. That’s how it all starts though, The Phone Call. And when all of the delusions of support grandeur set in. You’d like to think you’ll just dust off your cape, swoop in and solve all the problems in time for happy hour. Except you can’t solve any of the problems because the problem is they want their parent back and you’re not season six Willow from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, capable of bringing Buffy back from the dead. You’ll mainly sit in a silence for a while, maybe out of shock, maybe because you can’t find any words to say, and you’ll quickly discover that the worst phone call in the world isn’t even the hardest part.
There’ll be a lot of crying, for you and your significant other. You’ll watch people you don’t know cry. You’ll cry and you won’t know why or whom it’s for, but you’ll cry so much you’ll feel dehydrated. And you’ll cry everywhere, except in the presence of your partner because they really don’t need that shit right now. You’ll cry at Target because the cashier told you to have a nice day. You’ll cry at Whole Food because someone complimented your shoes. You’ll cry listening to UGK “One Day” because you just realized that song is about death. As I said earlier, grief don’t give fuck, so be prepared to cry whenever and wherever because you will. You’ll get mad fairly innocuous business. You could be watching Beetlejuice and suddenly find yourself in a jealous rage that the Maitland’s got a “Handbook for the Recently Deceased” and you guys didn’t. Scrolling through various social media feeds, you’ll suddenly find yourself resenting the smiling faces looking back at you for still having both their parents. You’ll lose every ounce of chill you’ve clung on to while trying to pack away some random room and go on a throw-everything-away rampage. But it’s not just sadness and anger. The amount of stress both of you endure will feel endless, especially if your significant other doesn’t have siblings or much family to depend and lean on. And what you will stress about has nothing to do with the death itself because at a certain point, the process becomes not unlike moving, with a funeral thrown somewhere in there.
People with the best intentions will invariably say some dumb fuckin’ shit. Sure, you’ll hear the usual suspects: “they’re in a better place”, “this is what they would of wanted”, “everything happens for a reason”, and a new one that also sucks, “do you feel more alone in the world?”. Who in the literal fuck says that to a person whose parent just passed? No one, hopefully ever again, when I’m done writing this. And while we’re at it, I’m not sure what phrase we can use to replace it, but: “sorry for your loss” or “just lost their parent”. They are not lost. They are fucking dead. At least when you lose something, there’s the misguided hope you could one day find it again. This is not the case when someone dies (unless you’re Willow from season 6 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, we talked about this already). It’s all well and good if you believe you’ll be reunited with loved ones in the afterlife or heaven or whatever, but not everyone does and those very tired sayings lose their meaning after the fourth time you’ve had to politely smile and say thanks after hearing them.
Other people are your greatest resource and biggest pain in the ass. My best friend was one of the first people I told and she was the first to drop everything to come help us. Strangers will be some of the most caring and empathic people who’ll restore your faith in humanity, you’ll probably cry at their random acts of kindness because as I’ve already said, grief cares not where you ugly cry. Those who will let you down will usually be the people closest to you because they know they can be a repugnant bag of dicks because: family! When dealing with difficult family members, this piece of advice saw me through, “be like water”. And if that doesn’t work, fuck ‘em! Don’t give them the time of day or pleasure of your insults. After some time has passed, you and your S/O can decide if you want them in your lives or not. Sure, forgiveness is mighty and oh-so adult, but utterly deplorable behavior oftentimes gets repeated, and can be hard to forget. By the same token, you’ll never forget the friends who sent you a stupid memes to make you laugh, or the ones who called to check on you. They are who you thank in the liner notes, not the other fuckos.
Engage in cathartic behavior besides crying. Crying is great, and I know it seems like I must’ve cried the entirety of the Atlantic ocean, but it’s not the only cathartic activity you can do. Helping sort through your significant other’s parent’s house can be an enlightening and special experience that will bring a small sense of closure. Do some physical activities, like going a hike or walk, hit the gym, or watch a reality show. Drive around with all the windows down, blast some hip-hop, and sing/rap along, nothing like shouting “I don’t fuck with you!” at confused senior citizens in golf carts. Basically, it’s important to develop some sort of routine that doesn’t involve calling creditors, packing, and screaming into pillows.
There is nothing you can do to stop of the wave of “one more day” or “the last time I…” thoughts for you and your partner. Just ride it out, it’s kind of a weirdly humbling exercise, but don’t make the fanfiction an everyday occasion because you’ll never move on with your lives. Channel that energy into talking about how you’re going to keep their parents memory alive in your day-to-day lives. It’s been almost two months since the death of my boyfriend’s Mother and the void honestly feels bigger now than it did before. Maybe it’s because we’ve finally had time to process, or maybe it’s because Mother’s Day is coming up and the idea that this will be the first of many holidays we won’t spend with her has finally sunk in. The grieving process really is that, a process. Your partner will get moody and it’ll be hard to parse out directly what about this particular day made them upset. Don’t overthink it too, it has nothing to do with you. And if they want to talk about it, they will, and if they don’t, they won’t, but don’t let that stop you from talking about them. I cared deeply for my boyfriend’s Mom and I always try to force myself to tell him if saw something that reminded me of her or a joke a I’d think she’d laugh at. I still can’t tell people about her passing without crying and I’m not sure if or when I will be (shout out to everyone I’ve cried on when they’ve asked me what I’ve been up to lately!).
The most important thing to remember is: you don’t need to be or do anything other be there with them. But if you can: pack a box, give them a shoulder rub, make a phone call, grab dinner, send an email, tell them they’re doing great and you love them — do that too.
And know that one day, whether it’s your own parents or your partners, this will happen to you too. I don’t mean that to sound like a threat, it’s just a literal fact.
