On the outside, the world sees you hurting from the loss of your spouse. They don’t know; however, that in addition to the “normal” feelings of grief, you’re also struggling with guilt.
You blame yourself for not insisting that he see the doctor when his cough got progressively worse. You beat yourself up for not seeing beyond his reassurances that he was “okay”.
Perhaps you had a fight before he stormed out of the house and you wished you’d chased after him. Or, if you’re like me, you carry the burden of not getting on an earlier flight. Regardless of the circumstances, you continue to play the cruel game of “What if…” over and over in your head. You recreate every scenario, wondering how and what you could have done to prevent his death. You search your mind, wondering if you missed the signs: Did he seem depressed? Was there a lump that warned of cancer? Were the recent headaches a sign of what was to come?
I want you to know that there was nothing you did or did not do that could have prevented his death. Don’t allow guilt to complicate your grief. Know that he would never hold you accountable for his death. He knows that you would have moved heaven and Earth to have him here with you and his babies.
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Perhaps it’s not his actual death that racks you with guilt. Maybe the fact that you’re happy again is a struggle for you. You don’t think you deserve the honey that has come after the bitterness of death. Or, you’ve become the woman you’ve always wanted to be – and you did so only as a result of his death.
A dear widow sister felt overwhelmed with her newfound happiness and wondered if her husband stood in judgment of her life. Through her soul-searching, she realized something profound that I now use to prevent myself from going down the road of guilt: If you believe your husband is in heaven, then you have to know there is no pain, no hurt and no negative emotions. He isn’t angry you didn’t get to the phone in time. He doesn’t blame you for that final argument. He isn’t harboring resentment that you’ve moved forward and/or started dating. If he is in heaven, then know he is at peace, looking down and marveling at the amazing, resilient person you’ve become post-loss.
If you don’t believe in heaven, then you should know the man you married would never say you were responsible for something that was beyond your control. He’s not judging you for moving from the home you shared, for indulging the children a bit more than he would have, or for agreeing to that first date with a potential new partner.
Just as you’ve forgiven the people who weren’t there for you or made peace with their absence, you must let go of the guilt you continue to carry. It makes your grief that much harder. Know you did everything within your means and with the tools you had at the time to save him. If his death was unexpected, you can’t blame yourself for your inability to predict the future. Yes, if you knew the drunk driver was leaving the bar, you would have chatted a bit more before he left for the night shift. Had you known he was so ill, you would have skipped work or canceled the trip. If you’d only realized the diagnosis was wrong, you would have demanded a third or fourth opinion. If you could have, you would have. The sad reality is that you just can’t change the past.
Unfortunately, the feelings of guilt may never truly go away. But, with time and a conscious effort, you’ll be able to talk yourself out of going down that never-ending path. Don’t feed your guilt. Don’t play the “what-if” game. What’s done is done and we can only move forward. None of us, knowing what we know now, would have taken so many days for granted…fought about so many insignificant things…been so quick to anger.
Nothing will ever give us that time back and every moment we spend searching the past for answers fills us with remorse and holds us hostage. Release the guilt. Release the anxiety. Release the feelings of inadequacy that you weren’t able to save him. Instead, be comforted by the fact that your husband knows if it was your love alone that could have saved him, he’d still be here with you.
This article is included in Kerry Phillips’ latest book, “Letters to the Widowed Community.”
*This post originally appeared on Open to Hope.
Kerry runs a support group for young widows and widowers venturing back into the world of dating and is a contributor to Open to Hope. She is the author of “Letters to the Widowed Community” and “The One Thing: 100 Widows Share Lessons on Love, Loss, and Life.” Her articles on widowhood and grief have been featured in HuffPost and Love What Matters. She’s also the host of the Young, Widowed & Dating podcast.
She was type 2 diabetic, and during my extended period of unemployment, when I was obsessed with finding work, her walking started becoming compromised. She could only walk for short distances and had trouble climbing stairs. I wrote it off to her losing a toe and part of her foot a few years earlier due to diabetes issues. She would NEVER go to the doctor, I begged, pleaded, nagged and fought with her. It would take her 20 minutes sometimes to climb the 4 steps to get into the house with me cheerleading her.
Every time we talked about the doctor, she’d tell me I was crazy and didn’t know what I was talking about. Still I wish to God that I had dragged her by the hair to a doctor or the hospital when it would have made a difference.
Her mobility issues were due to her kidneys failing and she retained 60 pounds of fluid, two liters in her lung, I have a cellphone picture to prove it. Thirty months as a dialysis patient, five heart attacks, two leg amputations and a stroke later she was gone. That was 43 months ago, and I STILL wish I had gotten more forceful with her, I believe I always will.
Big hugs, Don. I understand the guilt you carry as there are things that I wish I could have done differently. I’ve come to realize that I can’t stay trapped in that guilt because that does nothing to change the past. I know my husband knows I couldn’t see what was around the corner – your wife does too.
Don, I am tempted to say. I can understand you, but even though I also lost my husband to illness, our experience might not be the same.
Nevertheless I struggle with guilt because I am always wondering about all the things I would have done different. His illness was a complete surprise and besides that his family got in the middle. I went into defensive mode, and wasted time.
Now, two years after am still struggling, but I agree that I need to forgive myself. Not easy but hopefully will get there some day.
Much health to you.
Don, I’ve beat myself up wishing I drug my husband to the doctor or called 911 the last morning. Instead we fought because he refused and made me go my to appt. Sometimes I think he knew he was going to pass away. I’m grateful we said I love you that morning, yet still wish I drug him to the doctor/ER instead. So truly know what you’re saying. Unfortunately, we can’t change the past. ((hugs)))
Hindsight is always 20/20. No, we can’t change it at all. Big hugs!
I struggle with grieving guilt. My husband passed away unexpectedly. He was a healthy 36 year old undiagnosed type 1 diabetic. I’m a medical assistant in nursing school. I think of all the symptoms and signs that happened the previous month… Just last month. He was real sick one day. I should have made him come in. Or took better care of him. I should have checked on him. Why did I sleep so hard that night. I can’t stop stabbing myself with what ifs. He just passed three weeks ago and it’s just all so crippling. He went into ketoacidosis and he had pnemonia.. it just took the one day and everything changed. It does seem to help to read similar feelings and experiences. Thank u
Big hugs, Maria. Hindsight is 20/20. Please know you aren’t alone and you did what you thought best at the time. Don’t beat yourself up too much
I’m so sorry for your lost
They Lord is your strength
The ‘should have’, ‘could have’ have been killing me for 3 going on 4 years. It’s really hard to not beat yourself up for not knowing something was wrong.
Thank you for making me know that I’m not crazy for feeling like this.
Nope, not alone. I think the key is not let it stifle us. Big hugs
If I would have made him go to the ER on Saturday, they could have prevented SEPSIS from turning into SEPTIC SHOCK on Sunday. I knew he was sick and yet I continued to trust him when he said he was okay and just wanted to sleep it off. I remember tucking him into bed, getting him a glass of water, kissing him on the forehead and telling him I would be home soon….
When I got home from work (after hours and hours of radio silence text-wise) I found him delerious, covered in blood, sweating, terrified, coughing up blood.. he recognized me but he didn’t know his own name or what day it was or anything else….
I don’t know how to let go of the responsibility. I was his woman. I was supposed to take care of him. I knew he was bad with doctors and yet I didn’t push the issue. Why? Because I didn’t want to fight? How fucking cowardly is that?
I feel so empty and horrified and sick. I don’t know what to do.
So sorry, Emily. I totally understand not wanting to fight. Have you tried a suppport group or a grief therapist to help you move past some of the guilt? It’s a heavy load to carry.
Emily , I have a similar story , my heart goes out to you . I wonder when the guilt subsides of ever .
I had this guilt, even though my wife had one of the worst brain tumor diagnoses that one can have. I beat myself up for not demanding that she try more alternative treatments, or get second opinions at an earlier stage of disease progression.
I had the most wonderful wife in the world, for me, and I always feel like I let her down.
The struggle has been so hard, and for me it continues over five years down the road.
Big hugs, Jeff. I struggled with this for quite some time too. It’s definitely gotten better but still flares up from time to time.
I wonder what would have been different if I had insisted he stop ignoring his pain and address it. The tumor would have been caught earlier. We could have done more. I feel guilty that I didn’t fight harder to understand what we were dealing with and get more opinions about treatments. I’m a doctor. I take care of everyone else and let the person I love most perish. There will always be so many what ifs…..
Don’t beat yourself up too much, Casey. I think all of us struggle at times with the what ifs.
My husband was drinking heavily after a botched tumor surgery. It’s been a year and a half. I knew he was in pain from the surgery his nerves were tangled from it and he’s go to many doctors and they said he was trying to get pain meds. He hated opiates. They wouldn’t listen. He drank himself to sleep then into cirrhosis and ended up with a blood infection and I should have pushed him to get clean from the vodka but, then he’d Be in so much pain without sleep. He had 24-7 pain. It was awful. He was only 52. Second marriage for us both he had 4 kids I have 2 and he loved my girls as much as he did his own 4. He loved being a dad. Watching his oldest daughter get married was so hard 3 weeks ago. I wasn’t invited because his ex hates me even tho they were divorced 6 years before we met. I was only 37 when he passed. All I can think of is how am I supposed to go thru the rest of my life without him?? Me and my girls miss him so much I feel like my heart re-breaks everyday.
I’m so sorry, Stephanie. It’s tough carrying grief and guilt. I hope you’ll reach out to a professional if it becomes too overwhelming. I also recommend a support group if you haven’t already found one. It’s so freeing knowing that you aren’t alone with many of your feelings and have a safe forum to share.
The guilt is definitely the worst part. It has only been 3 months since my wife completed her suicide after several attempts. The previous weekend I had figured it out and had the police track her phone. I told them she was suicidal and needed to be hospitalized. Sadly, she told them she was fine so they said they couldn’t take her since she hadn’t actually told me she was suicidal….I just knew. She later confessed to me, but said she’d been off her meds for 1.5 years and wouldn’t go back on them or accept counseling (she wouldn’t tell me, but based on the meds left over in her drawer, I’m guessing bipolar disorder in addition to the untreatable migraines she got regularly). I thought I had longer to convince her, but she had too many plans in progress, and one of them worked out the next weekend while I was distracted by a busy day at work. After she died, I found a journal from 13 years ago, 3 years before we met. I learned that she has been suicidal for a very long time and was prone to severe depression and self-loathing despite being one of the most beautiful and outwardly happy-seeming people I’ve ever known. It was a whirlwind, fairytale-like relationship, and I now realize that I gave her 8 years of relative happiness in a life that she considered to be “suffering,” and that I should be content with the gift of the time we had together. It seems that the intensity of the early relationship (and the meds she was on) blinded me to the severity of her condition. Even knowing all of that, it is so easy to cave in to the guilt: “maybe she would’ve gotten through this if I’d expressed my love more clearly the last week,” and “couldn’t I have found a way to force her into the mental hospital to get her through her through this episode?” The answer to both is that maybe it would’ve bought her another week, another 3 months, or another year. In the end, I think there was no way around this outcome, only the timing. That doesn’t keep me from grieving more than I ever thought possible, because I really believed we had several more decades together right up till the moment I felt her die (she hid in a hotel room with her electronic devices off so she couldn’t be tracked, miles away, while overdosing on meds prescribed by a new Dr. she had switched to and met with the night before without me knowing…but I really thought I felt her dying). I do have a therapist and I’ve spoken with my late wife through a medium, which was even more helpful….but the guilt still creeps and haunts me when it’s quiet. It’s still raw at 3 months; I’m hoping to get it under control so I can allow myself happiness again someday.
I’m so sorry for your loss, JR. I’m so glad you’re making peace with not carrying that guilt. But you’re right, it does creep in. You are so deserving of that happiness and I hope it comes your way.