Posted by:
resipsaloquitur
(
)
Date: January 10, 2013 06:21PM
My first wife died after a year of marriage. I don't talk about it much because I still don't really know what to think, or how I feel about it. And it was almost 13 years ago.
I was a good little Kolobian. I went on a mission at 19, BYU at 21, marriage at 21 and--you guessed it--baby at 22. Our little girl was 2 months old when my wife's heart stopped without warning. The baby had just finished nursing in the early morning twilight when her mother, still with baby in arms, stopped breathing.
Paramedics rushed her to the hospital, my brother drove me in my panic and shock shortly behind the ambulance. I knew things were bad, but I was incapable of accepting the possibility of the worst. So when the doctor came into the little waiting room designated for telling families that their loved ones had died, I was not prepared for that news. Who could be prepared? I let out a gutteral, primal scream. And even as I did it, I was embarrassed for behaving so undignified and with so little acceptance of God's will.
My brother and I, along with another priesthood holder, asked to see the body in private. Our wishes were respected, and I begged my brother--whose faith and righteousness were beyond question--to raise her from the dead with his Godly magic. He gave the usual fortune-teller's line: be healed, or at least do what God wants. She remained forever quiet.
The cult held a Church rally with her body in front. We endured several hours of isn't The Church great? and you should all join! Then we put her in the ground. I used my powers to dedicate the grave. I cast a spell that whoever visited there would want to join The Church. But I really don't know if anyone understood my incantation, because the gutteral, primal voice came back.
Then, that night, my dead wife's brother took me on a moonlit walk in the wilderness. He told me that her entire family had decided that I was to remarry, and quickly. That was God's will, and she wants that for me too. My baby needs a mother, after all. Over the next few days and weeks, this command grew and grew in my mind. I was lonely, and horny, and helplessly ignorant about how to care for an small infant. My bishop confirmed for me that this was God's will for me, for my baby. And after all, how could I remain temple worthy if I succumbed (succame?) to temptation.
It all seemed right. The priesthood leaders and patriarchs in my life, whose stewardships ruled over me, had all confirmed what I wanted anyway, which is that God wanted me to find someone to have sex with, and soon. So I was married within a few short months, before the year was out, to the first girl who came along. That disaster is a story for another post. But suffice it to say that I quickly discovered that the marriage was not, in fact, God's will.
The effect of all this was that, out of duty to Mormon, Inc., I willingly sublimated my own mental health and needs to the corporate need for more assets. I should have grieved, but I didn't. Instead, I followed the Spirit and the counsel of my priesthood leaders to advance the corporate interests, and I remarried. It was the worst mistake of my life.
I should have struggled through the loss and the loneliness and the questions why. But I didn't. Instead, I found a willing woman, and I convinced us both that Jesus had sorted all of that out for me. I spouted Atonement this and Atonement that and isn't it wonderful. And she bought it. And I bought it. And it was bullshit. And then the marriage was over as soon as it began, although it took 8 years to die.
I never grieved my wife's death. Not really. I moved on with an artificial, contrived life before I even got over the initial shock. And it seems silly and pointless to grieve now, like the moment has passed. Like that awkward moment after you've already passed a coworker in the hall and you realize you should have smiled and said hello. It's too late, and if you tried now, you would just feel like an idiot.
My dead wife doesn't exist anymore, and I don't even miss her. That's what makes me mad. Would I miss her if I had grieved, if I had come to a natural peace with it? I don't know, but the cult had no right to take that from me.