We first hear it as little kids in our bedtime stories. When we’re older, we see it repeated again and again in countless movies. We’re even told we can buy it in endless advertisements. But it isn’t real. It’s all a big, perverse lie that can do real damage in real lives.
What is it, you ask? It’s the human fantasy of “happily ever after.”
The idea is so alluring we quickly get sucked into its web of deceit and empty promises. Little girls are particularly vulnerable to its grasp. They meticulously plan for Prince Charming’s arrival — as we have been promised in Disney movies.
We know the perfect job is just around the corner. The one where we’re paid handsomely for doing what we love for people we respect — and who respect us. We look for our soulmate knowing they’re out there waiting for us. Our happy little family living in our dream house is on the horizon. No fights or arguments. Everything is effortless. Just pure bliss and ease.
We sit and wait. We wait a lot longer than we expected to. But we don’t give up hope. Day after day; year after year. We are secretly convinced that happily ever after is a real place that we can get to. And will get to. It motivates us and picks us up when we’re down. It gives us a reason to keep moving forward through the murkiness of life.
Until one day the fantasy blows up in our faces and reveals the devastating truth. There is no happily ever after.
For many of us, this ugly truth is revealed when we lose someone who meant more to us than life itself. Someone you cannot imagine living without — and who is never coming back. In my case, that dark day of realization came crashing down on me the day my 4-year-old daughter, Margareta, died.
It came without warning. It was accompanied by a scream of sirens and frantic attempts to save her. We tried to beat it back to the depths it came from, but it came nonetheless. And in a matter of hours – after more than three decades of waiting for it – the certainty of happily ever after disintegrated before my eyes.
It was like that scene in the Wizard of Oz. The curtain had been pulled back to reveal that the great and powerful “happily ever after” is just a construct of ordinary people who live lives that often feel difficult and painful. And they dream of turning fantasy into reality.
Our realization that happily ever after is never going to happen leads to anger.
The grief of losing someone – and losing all our hopes and dreams that came with them – is compounded by the anger we begin to feel from being lied to our whole lives. And lied to we certainly were. Not just by others; we lied to ourselves too.
For some, this anger can all but consume us. We rail against the unfairness of it all. Not only are we feeling the impossible pain of losing someone we can’t imagine living without, we are enraged at the realization of all the time we wasted on that stupid fantasy. Angry that we could have been focused on what mattered most: time spent with our loved ones.
We think of all those extra hours we wasted at the office trying to get that promotion or raise. When we could have been spending time with our family. That is time we will never get back. We think of all those moments where we felt stuck waiting for a better life.
All the while, we could have been happy appreciating what we already had…before we lost it all.
Eventually, the anger will subside. It may take more time than you’d like. Months or years; not days or weeks. It may feel like you’ll never get there. But you will. You will eventually give yourself permission to shift your focus away from the anger of being lied to toward all the love that still resides in your heart and in your mind.
After suffering a loss of this kind, we tend to see the world in a new light. Things we used to think were once so important no longer seem worth our time and energy. The drama and frivolity that used to occupy so much of our life is now seen as a useless waste of time.
Others who didn’t suffer this type of loss may not understand our new perspective. They may resent us for it and tell us to move on with our lives. They may distance themselves from us. But their issues are out of our hands; we simply no longer have the energy to spare on it.
Without happily ever after to focus on, we can finally see what really matters to us.
We can simplify our life and readjust our goals. We can focus our energy on what matters most. Right now that is probably limited to one basic thing: surviving. But eventually, it will lead to a life worth living once again. And that is no lie.
This website was inspired by the memory of Margareta Sol Kubitz in hopes of helping others work through the pain of grief.
Its no accident this came after this week and day of hell. Anger, rage, exhaustion. Loss of my only beloved child man at 22. Missing hi and all I wished
And the realization that there are those who will no longer “get” me. More losses
Peace and God bless you
Thank you for helping me thru this ugly existence
Thank you, Roselyn. I have discovered that I tend to receive information at the exact moment I need to hear it ever since Margareta died. I’m just glad that my words have helped you deal with the difficult emotions I know you’re facing. Take care, Maria
Oh how I hope you are right, Maria. Having just gone through devastation day and then 8 days later, Amy’s birthday, I find myself so tired of this fight to survive. Two years without Amy. It will never make sense to me. And the secondary losses of people who have bolted from our lives hurts. It’s so much easier to be angry instead of admitting that they have compounded my pain. I want to get to a place where they don’t matter. Is that possible? Are they waiting for the coast to clear and the worst to be over? You are right. There is no happily ever after. Ironically, my husband and I were just saying that tonight.
Dee, I wrote this article partially with you in mind having read your recent posts. I am fully convinced you will eventually reach a place where you find a little more peace and a little less despair and anger in the wake of Amy’s death. Unfortunately, healing from grief is on a timetable we can’t control – and is different for each and every one of us. It is also unfortunate that our family and friends often add to the pain instead of ease it. I found that I had to begin to look inward for support…and to my surprise…I began to find what I needed to get through. Take care of yourself, Maria
Maria, I do believe over time I will find a way to cope better. I also think we each have to go through our own passage of time which is filled with many emotions which need to be released before we find a more peaceful existence. Two years feels like yesterday unless I am thinking about the last time I spoke to Amy or hugged her. I am grateful you are out there shining some light along the way while still validating the forever changed world where I and many other grievers now exist.
I had never really thought of it in that perspective, but it is so true. I struggle daily to get through the little things, I find I have no interest in my projects of the past and I don’t have time for the drama of others. I had decided a very long time ago, my children were my “happily ever after” and now that is incomplete.
I’m so sorry for the loss of your son. I hope you continue to seek support on this difficult journey. Take care of yourself, Maria
Perfectly said. My 26 year old daughter died 1/2/15, I struggle to accept and understand this daily. My heart is shattered and nothing will ever be the same, I miss and love her beyond words. Thank you for writing this.
You’re welcome, Ann. I’m so sorry for the loss of your precious daughter. I hope you continue to seek support on this incredibly difficult journey. Take care of yourself, Maria
4 1/2 years after losing my 20 year-old daughter to cancer, I do have a different perspective on life and how I should live it. I have little tolerance for stupidity now and my feelings of gratitude have increased tenfold, maybe more. Mostly, I feel alive now and I feel like I’m part of this mysterious, beautiful planet that I know I will never fully understand. I am hanging onto the memory of my daughter and seeing the world more through her eyes now. No happily-ever-afters. But I can do what she did which was to cram as much joy as I can find into each day. There will always be sadness. But there’s still some happiness to be found. After these years, I can agree with you that life is worth living again. Cheers!
Robin, what a wonderful way to honor your daughter’s memory! There may not be any happily ever afters, but there certainly can be happiness found in each and every day if we just know where to look and what to appreciate. Take care, Maria
I hope and pray I can get there. I do not want to live…truthfully and cannot wait to die to see my son again. He died in a car accident…5 days before Christmas 2014. I have moments of feeling
he would want me to be happy and carry on but primarily I cant see anything through my tears.
Posts from you who are carrying on and grateful give me hope
Thank you
I’m sorry for the heaviness you feel, Roselyn. It will take a lot longer than you’d hope, but eventually you too will get to a place where the tears won’t be so thick and constant. Until then, we’ll keep trying to give you hope. Take care, Maria
I believe this is hell. There is so little happiness in this life we lead that it cannot get worse. What can be worse than losing a child? When we die we will be reunited in heaven. Lots of hugs
Yes I believe we will
Thank you for reminding me. It is not a thought that is primary in my mind. I wish it were
Peace and love