Interview with Carol Fiore (author)

Carol Fiore is a licensed pilot, climate activist, and writer. When her husband, Eric, died in a plane crash, she sought out resources for grieving atheists. Finding none, she decided to write one herself. “A Grief Workbook for Skeptics – Surviving Loss Without Religion,” is a secular guide to navigating grief.

Have you since found any good secular grief resources?

I’m a member of an excellent Facebook group called “Grief Beyond Belief.” It is a closed group of non-believers that was started by a woman who lost her baby. Sometimes the most healing is done with others who have experienced the same kind of loss.

Can you talk more about how religion interfered with Eric’s end-of-life wishes and yours?

Eric had the funeral service he would have wanted – secular, in a hangar with fellow pilots wearing flight suits and telling stories. It was followed by a non-religious military service because he was always extremely proud to have served his country as an F-15 pilot during the Cold War and Desert Storm.

There were a considerable number of people present at the service who were surprised at the lack of prayers because that was the point when people learned Eric (and I) were non-believers. Some could not comprehend such a thing and for years I was asked rather pointedly if I was confident that I’d done the right thing. “But surely he would have changed his mind about religion at the end,” people insisted. I complained to my sister (also an atheist) that people did not respect Eric. After a while, I stopped caring what they thought. I knew I’d done what was right.

I speak in the book about how Eric was given last rites at the hospital without my permission. I was angry about that, but not just because we didn’t believe in it. I spoke positively to him for all 36 days after the plane crash and the very act of administering last rites – because he was conscious and heard it – might have caused him to believe there was no hope for a recovery.

What were the most common religious expressions of sympathy and how did you respond?

Allow me to say at the start that I know most people mean well and most of them had no experience with the death of an atheist. My response to various misguided statements depended on my emotional state at the time. Occasionally I would lash out at the person. Most often I nodded and said, “Okay.” Sometimes I said, “Excuse me but I have to go now.” As time went by, I would preempt these expressions with the statement, “I’m an atheist and so was Eric.”

The worst thing people said was “He’s in a better place.” No. He isn’t. The second worse thing was “God has a plan.” Really? Then he must be a sick God to ask a vibrant, kind man to suffer while his wife and small children watched in horror. Most of the time people simply said, “I’m praying for you.” Please don’t, I wanted to say, but I never did. I still do not say that. As I said, I believe most people mean well.

What were the most helpful things people said or did?

It’s all about the doing. My best friend took our daughters to the movies or skating or just to hang out at her house. My next-door-neighbor quietly put groceries in my refrigerator. Another neighbor, without asking, mowed the grass.

People who are grieving are often unable to ask for help. Friends and family who look closely and take action are the most helpful and the ones I remember the most 21 years later. A close friend of Eric sent me written stories about him. I read them over and over. My sister Patty, whom I talk about in my book Flight through Fire, is the very best example of how to do everything right. She listened to me talk about Eric whenever I wanted to talk about him (most people would walk away). She helped with our daughters; she saw what was needed and then did it.

How did you respond to people who wanted you to find closure?

I was appalled that only two months after Eric’s death, people started asking me about dating. Even today, 21 years later, the first thing people ask when they find out I’m a widow is “Have you remarried?” When I say no, they ask if I date. How is this anyone’s business? I did go on a few dates with one of Eric’s friends, but it was clear from the start (at least to me) that Eric was going to be “it” for me and that no man was ever going to measure up. And really, was it fair to another man? I’m extremely happy for those who find another love in their lives, but we are all different people and that choice should be respected. I am certainly no dating expert, but I have no regrets about my decision to remain single.

Closure to some means that you don’t talk about the person you lost. That is not how I honor Eric’s memory, and our daughters joke about him and talk about him often. I believe that is healthy. In my opinion there is no such thing as closure. There’s a way of functioning better and learning to live without the person you lost, but there is never closure.

Do you envy people who have faith in an afterlife?

I don’t mean to be disrespectful when I say this, but fairy tales can sometimes be comforting. But they aren’t real and I can’t believe something I know is untrue. I can’t live an honest life if I don’t confront truth head-on, even when it is painful.

What is the hardest thing about grief as an atheist?

I know—really, really know—that I will never see Eric again. I will never hold his hand and laugh about a cute animal. We will never share a cappuccino or talk about history late into the night. We’ll never go cycling together or cross-country skiing. We’ll never hang out at the airport and critique other pilots’ landings. He is gone forever. That sort of realization, free of wild fantasies about an afterlife, is often debilitating.

What do you most want to say to other atheists who are grieving?

Surround yourself with kind people who believe in the same things you do.

I wrote A Grief Workbook for Skeptics in order to help people. Not all my suggestions will be useful, but I wrote the book I wished I’d had when Eric died. It is only available in print form for a reason. I want people to dog-ear pages, write in it, take notes, do some of the little exercises. A paperback forces one to stop, reflect, perhaps doodle on a page in a way that an e-book does not. My other four published books are all available in e-book, but not this one.

For more information about Carol and her publications, visit her website here