2. My first husband died 8 years ago, when I was 29 and he was 31. Cancer. I'm now happily remarried and pregnant with my first child. My second husband knows that I will always love and miss my first, and he respects that even though I'm not sure he completely understands it. I kept my first husband's last name and will be buried next to him - we were high school sweethearts and there's no doubt in my mind that if he had lived, we would still be married, hopefully with a couple of kids and a house somewhere quiet. But I love my current husband very much; he makes me happy, he's a good partner, we're very well suited to each other, and I'm so in love with our daughter already. I'll always be a little sad about what could have been, but I'm also very happy with what my life has brought me.
1. I was married for a long time, 29 years. No kids, just her and me. Sudden heart attack. I won't even try to described the loss. I still can't talk much about it. Even typing this is emotional.
I remarried after about two years and I have been married now for 12 years, so I guess my natural state is to be married. I don't talk about my first wife, or even talk about anything about that past life. I explained what happened when I first met my second wife, but she felt she might not measure up since I clearly idolized my first wife, so I just put it all inside and thats where it stays. In a box inside me.
Sometimes the grief just comes out. In the first five years or so after my wife's death, it came out a lot. Not so much anymore, but it still does and you never know when it will happen. It's sort like a wave at the beach. You are standing in shallow water, and something happens, a sight, a sound, a song, a smell, and you suddenly recall, and then without warning a giant wave of grief just comes at you and knocks you down. You try to get up, and another knocks you down. Finally you stand, and everybody is acting normal, but for you the world looks wrong. It takes a long time to get back.
My first wife lost her mother when she was just 29. One day, when she was 39, we were driving on a summer Sunday morning, windows down, music up, I looked over and she was crying. What are you crying for I asked?
"I was just thinking of my mother."
It's been ten years I said. She just looked at me with teary eyes.
"You don't understand", she said, "but one day you will." I miss her.