EMBRACING THE LATE WIFE In
beginning of our relationship, my husband actually felt comfortable
telling me about his late wife. There was an aura of mystery about her,
mostly because I had not known her prior to her death. To sate my curiosity,
I just wanted to know answers to a few basic questions, and my husband
was more than willing to oblige me. We were still in that "getting to know
you" stage of newfound love, so he had nothing to lose by sharing some basic
background information with me about her - "non-intimate details" of his
late wife, such as where she attended school, what job she held prior to her
death, cause of her death, etc.
So, for that time being, I was satisfied with just knowing basics.
Soon after marrying him, however, knowing more about her became an
addiction that needed satisfying and a hunger to be sated.
The Obsession to Know Her
I remember exactly when obsession took shape. During first
week of our marriage, I found a folder in his old filing cabinet, and in it
were signed papers for an adoption process. Apparently, unbeknownst to
me, he and his late wife had actually attempted to become adoptive
parents of a child. I looked at date, and was saddened to see that
papers were filed in between time she discovered she had cancer and her
actual death.
Perhaps this meant that she regretted not having any biological children
of her own with him, and now wanted to share parenthood with him before
she passed away, leaving a legacy of herself behind.
Whatever her reasons, I was taken aback. Previously, my husband's late
wife had been, in my naïve mind, just another woman from his past. Prior
to this discovery, I had only received a simple biography or factual resume of
her life - nothing to substantiate anything more meaningful or intimate. But
now, with this new information, she became much more than that.
It was as if I had been in denial - an "ignorance is bliss" sort of
reasoning - since beginning. But now, all at once, I looked upon her with
my heart instead of only my mind. And realization hit me like a ton of
bricks - she was, at one time, a living, breathing, valuable human being. She
was a woman, with emotions, needs, and desires, just like me. And this real
person was one flesh with my husband! In one split second, she went from a
sheet of useless data to a real person, and I wanted to know her...intimately.
It's been said that best way to defeat an enemy is to know him, or in
this case, her. And at that time, I suddenly felt more threatened by her than I
had ever felt by anyone else in my life. She became, in my mind, "the other
woman". She had not only shared a past with my husband, but a bed, a
home, a life, her dreams, her body, and eventually, her illness and death.
That made her special, beloved, and unique…especially to him.
Ugh! I had never really thought about it that way before! She was so
much easier for me to deal with when I thought of her as a one-dimensional
non-entity with non-specific details to describe her non-life! Sure, there were
enough pictures of her to validate that she did at one time walk this earth and
fill space…but now, I had to swallow painful truth that she did more than
that.
So, with my obsession pumping me with energy, I went straight to
source - my husband - armed with enough intimate questions as my arsenal to
slay beast that threatened security and priority I had always thought I
held in my husband's heart. It must have been fire in my eyes as I
pummeled him with my ammo - questions - that made him put up his shield,
but he closed up tight, built a wall, and refused to play my game.
He would not share with me her faults! He would not paint a picture for
me of their day to day life as man and wife! He would not regale me with
amusing anecdotes of her personality! He refused to succumb to my ploy to
bleed him dry of information pertaining to what made her special, what made
her real, what made her…loved by him.
Oh my God, I anguished…it's worse than I thought! This evasion was
proof - he loved her more than he loved me! He thinks she was perfect! And
he's holding her up on some unattainable pedestal, where she will forever sit,
canonized and sainted by him, every day of his life! I will never be Number
One in his heart!
Fighting A Losing Battle With Fear
I thought my marriage was doomed. How could I share his heart with
another woman? And how could he want to marry me in first place if I
meant less than she did to him?
For a year, I managed to depressingly drag my way through my marriage,
day to day, while still holding onto anger, and hating his late wife more
and more. I used up so much energy doing this that I was exhausted all
time. My self-esteem plummeted. I dreaded his touch, for fear he would
think comparisons…"My late wife was much softer"…"My late wife was a
much better lover"…"My late wife…." etc., ad nauseum.
I just couldn't take it any more, and seriously considered divorce as
only alternative, since there was no way I was going to spend rest of my
life with a man who split his love between me and a ghost. But leaving him
would mean she had WON, and I wasn't about to let her take him from me
completely! There had to be a better way! I wanted validation of my fears
and feelings.
Finally, I arranged for a session with a psychologist who was also a grief
