Norma "Rosie" Wigutoff, MSW (she/her)
Seattle-based author & editor
Don't run from grief, o' soul
Look for the remedy inside the pain,
Because the rose came from the thorn
And the ruby came from a stone.
— Attributed to Rumi
13th-century Sufi poet and scholar
About the Book
Left Out! A Memoir and Other Stories
of Disenfranchised Grief
What It Is and Why It Matters
Norma "Rosie" Wigutoff, MSW
Welcome
In this tender chronicle, Left Out! A Memoir and Other Stories of Disenfranchised Grief, we find Rosie plunged without warning into terrible grief — and shame over that grief — at the death of her new tenant and friend. “Just a friend?” Society says such sorrow doesn't count. Rosie’s journey to accept and embrace this discounted grief offers us a gentle road map for healing and joy.
The Book Summary
It's the fall of 2020, in the midst of the Covid pandemic. Rosie, a still sprightly, 70-something divorced, feminist Jewish woman, is living her best life in Seattle with her cat Sadie, although that life is a tad lonely. Then arrive the latest renters for her condo's spare bedroom — a kind, funny, mid-40s man named Kevin and his charming tuxedo cat Jasmine. This dynamic duo is a perfect fit, and Rosie's loneliness fades. Life is good. That spring, Kevin spikes a fever. A week later, he is dead.
Rosie is overcome by terrible grief that feels undeserved, along with deep, overwhelming shame. Kevin was her renter, a friend — that was all. So why this devastation? In the grief literature, Rosie stumbles across the term disenfranchised grief — grief that society tells us isn't valid. These two words help her begin to release the shame and reclaim her right to grieve Kevin's death.
Writing poignantly and compassionately, with wisdom and whimsy, Rosie reminds us that all grief is valid, whether it's over people, pets, places, or things, as well as intangible losses like our beliefs, values, dreams, and even our sense of self and our place in the world. Yes, all grief matters, even when society says it doesn't. Inside this gentle road map for healing, Rosie also shares other stories and tools that help us acknowledge, accept, embrace, and heal our grief — big, small, and in between.
Keep tissues — or a spare sleeve — handy. You might weep, or laugh, or both, and find yourself thinking, "Ah, that's me, too!"
Meet Rosie
Photo by Leia Maminta Smith
Why I Wrote This Book
Hello, dear reader. I have always had a passion for writing, for reading good stories, and for helping people bring their own stories and passions to life. Over the years, as a therapist with curious, searching, and creative people, each carrying their sacred wounds, "I sat sidecar” with them as they discovered or rediscovered their true nature and true passions.
As a therapeutic eldercare companion, I hung out with my beloved “little ol’ ladies,” listening, exploring, and laughing together, encouraging them to find meaning and joy in their life stories, and perhaps some peace in the ending of their days.
Now, as an editor, I sit with my writing clients to help put their stories — true stories, fiction, fantasy, and whatever other story passions they hold — onto the page — just for their own eyes, for the eyes of their friends and family, or even for the world. It’s all important.
But I never had a story I felt compelled to tell on the page until after Kevin died. Then suddenly, I did.
When Kevin died, I was plunged into a scary black-and-white world of unrelenting and debilitating grief. Why so much grief? The grief was bad enough, but the shame over what I "had no right to" was even worse., I had no answers, not even a guidepost for where to begin. Ah, the shame - it had that familiar ring - it was my inner critic, with her fingernails-on-chalkboard voice — who you'll meet early in the book — insinuated herself right into the game. "Good grief, Rosie. What is wrong with you? You barely knew this person." Ouch, such shame.
When my search for an answer to my pain — some reasonable explanation — accidentally revealed the term "disenfranchised grief," I knew I had found that answer. I had felt my grief wasn't "big enough," that it "didn't count." It wasn't "real grief with a capital G." I had been literally left out - banished from society's comforting grief rituals and traditions.
And now, with the discovery of these two words, I had found community and solace. My grief was okay too. As my favorite Buddhist Zen teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh taught, I could embrace my grief and pain and hold it tenderly, as if it were an inconsolable child. I was not my grief, but I could be with it, and I could help heal it. That realization freed me from the worst of the shame, and I wanted to shout that news from the rooftops. And so, I did. I wrote this book.
Discover Left Out!
This heart-breaking, heart-opening, yet hopeful memoir contains story chapters — Kevin’s story, Rosie's and her family's stories, pet stories, roommate stories, and more (all the juicy, endearing, everyday, sad, and often funny parts). These chapters are interspersed with self-help chapters where you will find wisdom from the grief experts, including excerpts from their articles, books, and online material, Rosie's conversations with them, and her reflections on all of it.
In Chapter 18 Inside the Road Map — Things to Do Along the Way, you will find your “glove compartment insert," a treasure trove of action steps and writing exercises, more bits of wisdom, anecdotes, and gentle reminders for how to be present in a self-compassionate way with your grief.
And, in the back of the book are easy-to-follow sections of notes and resources if you want to explore further.
This book is for you if...
...If you tend toward self-reflection, introspection, or spiritual inclination, or are a person who has been or is now being touched — or stunned — by grief, your own or someone else's, sorrow that “doesn’t seem to count” in society’s eyes, this memoir and the other stories in this book will most likely resonate with you.
...If you are a therapist, a death doula, a grief literacy organization, an emergency veterinarian, an animal shelter volunteer, or a zookeeper, this book might well offer you support and confirmation.
...If you are a doctor, a nurse, aide, EMT, or other medical person, a firefighter or police person, a helper at a food bank that has no food, or a deeply concerned community member whose own heart is breaking apart as you carry whistles and bring soup, medicine, and hugs to your vulnerable neighbors, you will find camaraderie here.
...If you are a bereft pet parent, or a foster parent for human kids or furry ones, if you are a grieving birth parent who has surrendered your own flesh and blood, or are a person who has suffered miscarriage or stillbirth, or some related, but so often overlooked trauma, you will find acceptance here.
...If you are grieving the loss of a dear friend who has moved away, or your child who has gone off to college...if you are living with the anticipatory grief-of-a-thousand-daily cuts for a loved one with dementia or other terminal illness...or for your own lost or never-achieved hopes and dreams...or for the sorrows of our world, I hope that you will find connection and comfort in this book.
...And — or — if you simply love real-life, multi-tissue-box true-love-and-loss-and-love-again stories, you can skip all the citations, snippets, and words from the experts, and go straight for the stories.
Book Talks
& Your Stories
Woodland Park Zoo Talk— April 8, 2026
On April 8, 2026, Rosie led a talk and discussion about disenfranchised grief for the staff at the Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle called "Disenfranchised Grief: Honoring the Emotional Side of Our Work With Animals."
Zoo Testimonial—
"Attending Rosie's workshop on disenfranchised grief was a deeply impactful and eye-opening experience. Rosie created a compassionate and affirming space where often-overlooked forms of grief were not only acknowledged but deeply validated. The excerpt she read from her book Left Out! A Memoir and Other Stories of Disenfranchised Grief, the group discussion, and Joy the Grief Whisperer Giraffe were insightful and thoughtfully presented.
What stood out the most was the emphasis on giving language to losses that so often go unseen or unsupported. It was enlightening to witness staff having the space to talk openly about their grief with the animals they care for each day and who are also their family. Staff were able to share their needs, what support they've been given by family, friends, and within their workplace, identify other ways their community could support them, as well as how to support themselves.
I would highly recommend working with Rosie to anyone looking to deepen their understanding of grief, expand their capacity for compassion, and create more inclusive spaces for healing."
Reita Johnston (She/Her)
Trauma-Informed Career & Life Coach, Educator, & Practitioner
Woodland Park Zoo
More Disenfranchised Grief Stories
People of all ages have been sharing their disenfranchised grief stories with Rosie. Each is unique yet so deeply universal. Here are some of those stories thus far:
"I grieve my grandfather, who died when I was eight years old, and my parents said I was too young to go to the funeral."
...an adult woman
"When my friends bully me."
...a six-year-old boy
"I lost my dog Lucy to a heart attack this last summer."
...a nine-year-old boy
"I have grief for the decade of my 40s when I was very sick and couldn't enjoy things or put energy into bulding my life."
...an adult
"I grieve the public forum and voice I used to have to make a contribution."
...an adult
"Losing our pup Gus!"
...a family
"Putting/placing Mom into an adult family home."
...a family
"My health!"
...an elderly man
"I lost my therapist, and it's a hard one because it's not something you can necessarily share with co-workers or friends, but it's a big loss nonetheless."
...a middle-aged man
"Most of my friends don't understand my grief about almost anything. They think 'I should be a man.' They don't think I should feel grief at all."
...CJ, security guard
Barnes & Noble Book Signing— June 6, 2026
The Riddle of Disenfranchised Grief
The Question:
Got discounted grief? Grief that's ignored
By others, society or even yourself?
The Answer:
Grief, no matter how big or how small,
Or how in-between - is valid.
Give it a hug. Give it a name.
Be kind to your grief.
This is your heart finding peace.
This is your heart healing.
The Activity:
Write down on a slip of paper one or two of
your disenfranchised griefs...
or maybe a friend's.
Drop the paper in The Jar,
and it might be mentioned anonymously
on Rosie's website.
©Rosie
In June 2026 at a book signing of her grief memoir at Barnes & Noble in north Seattle, bookstore visitors chatted with Rosie. They included dads with little kids, grandparents with teenagers, and other folks of all ages, shapes, sizes, and backgrounds. When Rosie asked One 6-year-old first grade boy if he was reading yet, he proudly stated, "I read chapter books." So Rosie asked him if he would read her riddle out loud, and he did. He and his dad wrote down their disenfranchised grief stories on several of the colorful bits of paper available and dropped them into The Jar. Other folks who visited the table did the same.
Here, with permission, are some of those stories.
"I grieve for all the times I abandoned myself. Like meeting social obligations or what I think others wanted from me."
"The cutting down of the trees and hurting the environment."
"The loss of my dog of 18 years...the loss of my country and my flag."
"The passing of Strudel, my soul dog."
...R.Y.
"Grief #1 - my husband's friend, whom I met only a few times died recently, and I didn't feel like I had the right to feel grief. But then I read your wonderful book! I loved hearing about disenfranchised grief and how there's no "right way" or "wrong way" to grieve. This is such a great resource, exactly what I needed. Thanks for helping us understand all the different forms grief can take. We're all worthy."
"Grief #2 - I've been looking for a book about grief for missing the relationship I wish I had with my parents...even if it's not Grief with a Capital G!"
...J.S.
"I grieve the fact that so many artists in Seattle have been lost to addition, suicide, and heavy lifestyles."
"As a planet and humanity lover, my grief around our planet dying is often ignored."
"My brother has been missing for 12 years. People say to "just move on."
...K.N.
"My sister's dog, who I met only once - was hit by a car and died. When I got the news, I broke down in tears, and felt such grief - disenfranchised? - for weeks. I'm still sad to this day."
"The loss of a friendship...the loss of my childhood...the loss of my mentor to suicide."
...L.M.
Rosie Wigutoff hails from Ketchikan, Alaska and grew up in Annandale, Virginia, just outside of Washington, DC. Since 1976, she has been a hospital social worker, a child protective services caseworker, a matchmaker at Big Brothers Big Sisters of Boston, and a therapist in private practice in Boston and Seattle. From 2000 through 2023, she was a private therapeutic eldercare companion.
Rosie has raised three cat children from various stages of kittenhood and cat adolescence through all their nine lives and has seen them off as they crossed the Rainbow Bridge. She has also dabbled in photography, played drums in a band, and goofed around at home on the electric bass guitar.
Rosie is now an editor and a writing accountability coach. She continues to learn about grief, loss, and love every day. This is her first book.