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counselor. After sobbing my story to him, he asked me if I would do a
simple exercise…write a letter to
late wife as if she could read it herself.
I came very close to quitting therapy before I finally gave this idea a chance.
"Dear Late Wife…"
But a week later, with pen and paper in hand, I drove to cemetery and
sat by late wife's marker while I poured out my heart. Amazingly,
though, once I started writing to her as if she were sitting right next to me, a
funny thing happened. My anger faded away, and was replaced by sorrowful
compassion. This is what I wrote:
"....I wish I could meet you. I would have liked to have known
the kind of woman my husband chose first time around. I'd like to think
that because of our mutual love for him, we might have been good friends.
And oh, I would have had so many questions to ask you! What strengths
do we have in common? What fears do we share? What was it about our
husband that first attracted you? What was it about him that you loved so
much? How did he propose to you? How was your sex life? Too personal?
OK, sorry....but it DOES cross my mind from time to time!
Do you know how guilty I feel sometimes, just knowing that I
am here only because you are not - that I am living life that you could
have, had you not died? Your death also left so many fears for me...will I
ever be #1 in my husband's heart? Will I always live in your shadow? Will
your memory and ghost of you always be in back of his heart,
overshadowing anything good he may feel for me? Will he always hold you
up so high on that damned pedestal that I can't get near it? Do you know
how much I envy you? You were "first", and nothing will ever change
that. I will always be just "second".
I know it all sounds selfish. You didn't ASK to die, and you
didn't want to, either. I know our husband wishes he could have spared you
the excruciating pain you endured with cancer. I'm so sorry that you were
too young to die. You had so much more life ahead of you, so much more
love to share. He loved you so. But since you did die, he had to move on. I
hope you don't hold that against him. I'm sure that if you loved him as you
did, you would want him to be happy.
And he is happy, really. We have a baby now. Did you get to
hold her in Heaven before she was born? Did you feel a part of our husband
when you kissed her sweet face? I want that to be a nice memory for you. I'm
sorry you didn't have children. Our husband is such a great daddy, and
for him, sun rises and sets on his daughter. I know you would want that
for him.
Thank you for helping to make him who he is today, man I
love and adore. I know you had something to do with that in short time
you had together."
Cleansing My Soul
When I had finished, I felt relieved. The burden of all rage I had felt
was instantaneously lifted from my shoulders. I cried for hours. It was as if I
had been grieving her loss myself. I felt almost a sisterhood with her, and
started to feel guilty about having hated her. I didn't hate her. I hated me.
But now, I loved us both.
When my next session with psychologist came, I gave letter to
him to read. This wise, wonderful advisor looked at me with sympathetic
eyes, and asked, "So, how does it feel to have forgiven…yourself?"
Myself? Hmm…I hadn't thought of it that way. But he was right.
Instead of forgiving late wife for all things I had accused her of and
all things I had conjured up in my insecure mind, I came to accept that
since she was innocent party, it was me who needed forgiveness, and
only me who could grant it.
Consciously, I knew that insecurities I had plagued myself with were
based on hypothetical and illogical reasoning. But subconsciously, I couldn't
help it. I wanted someone to blame for making me feel so insecure. I blamed
her, when I really should have taken more responsibility for my negative
feelings in first place.
I suppose I will always wonder about life my husband shared with his
late wife, and I'm sure I will always be curious about person she was.
It's no longer an obsession that lives to spite her, but more of a quiet
reflection of a woman who shares my husband's heart. It has taken time, but
since I have become master of my own feelings about past and made
my peace with it (AND with late wife), my life with and marriage to a
widower has become much easier. Embracing late wife is relatively easy if you can humbly give credit
where credit is due, since late wife was a perfectly valuable person,
worthy of love and compassion. Forgiving yourself is first step in healing
the guilt you may bear for having blamed her for feeling rage or hatred. The
next step is to remember that, even if you never hear a disparaging word
about her, late wife was not a saint. The seemingly flawless windmills
you tilt at are only those in your mind. Embracing her only means accepting
her for who and what she was, faults and all, including what she gave to your
husband. But most of all, embracing late wife means accepting that you
two will be forever linked not by jealousy or a sense of competition but by
the love you both share(d) with your husband.
From her blockbuster new book, "PAST: Perfect! PRESENT: Tense! Insights From One Woman's Journey As The Wife Of A Widower" (Amazon.com/WeyantPress.com), Julie Donner Andersen tells it like it is from one who has "been there, done that, bought the T-shirt!"
