I know I’ve not been as present on the 'Dope as I was previously, but, in my mind, there’s no place in the world like the SDMB to air this.
My ex-wife died, and although we had no children, and I’m remarried and have children with my current wife, my ex-wife is dead and everything is worse now.
I started writing about her in some of my conversations here. Mostly in threads that involved dental advice, because she was a dentist up until the point I married her. The first time I mentioned her, though, was long before I knew of log reductions, food safety, etc., and wondered if she was trying to kill me. I learned a lot in that thread, including that she most likely wasn’t trying to kill me.
I’d met her in 1999 while I was working on the road. My entire career has been “on the road,” but “on the road” didn’t survive my on-the-road China assignment from 2011 to 2016. There were a lot of mistakes on both sides and you can believe that I’m tailoring this towards my point of view, but I married a racist, closed minded person. When her dad had some severe medical issues, she left me. I didn’t realize she had left me at the time, just that the absence to be with her family grew longer and longer and longer until it was clear she wasn’t coming back.
I didn’t hate her, but skipping a lot of details, it ended in divorce, eventually, which was hard to accomplish with a Mexican Catholic. Her closeted by obviously gay younger brother had been separated from his wife and mother of his children since 1999 without divorce; such is the culture.
I guess she spun only her point of view after the divorce and returned to her hometown. Although we communicated fairly regularly, at some point it stopped. It kept trying, but no response. I reached out to her family for updated contact information, but no response, so I guess they were poisoned against me. I loved those people, and still do. But they might as not exist, I suppose.
She wasn’t easily googleable, being computer illiterate and having no interest in social media. But today I came across the Periódico Oficial del Gobierno del Estado de Guanajuato with estate information in her name.
She died. One year and 10 days ago. And no one contacted me. No one emailed. No one called. None of our family, none of our nieces and nephews, and none of our mutual friends. I suppose all of those relationships cease upon divorce for 99% of matters, but for death? Seriously? No one could inform me? I had to find out via a court ordered announcement in a government publication?
My current wife has been supportive of my distress, because, yes, I’m distressed (thank you, babe!). I didn’t hate this woman, despite the strife. I didn’t want her to die, and although I knew she was sick and being supportive, I didn’t know she was on her deathbed. She was in remission only three months before her death, according to our latest interactive communication. Sick, but in remission. (By the way, fuck cancer,)
I need to have some (more) tequila in her honor. We met over some Don Julio, so I guess it seems fitting to say goodbye over some Don Julio, although I would have attended a funeral to say goodbye, if there was one during 2021 COVID in Mexico. But I don’t know, because no one fucking contacted me.
I have no idea how she died. COVID? Breast cancer complications? Bad fall from the osteoarthritis caused by the chemo? Suicide? I don’t know, because no one fucking contacted me.
I’m pissed. I’m angry. I’m hurt. I didn’t want to be her husband, but I didn’t want her to die.
RIP, Margarita pronounced like the drink.