I’m 34, and my husband is 37. He was married before we met, to his high school sweetheart. They started dating in their junior year, survived long-distance during college, and got married at 23, not long after graduating. Tragically, she passed away at just 26 from an aneurysm, leaving him absolutely devastated. They didn’t have children, and her death left a deep scar on him.
For a long time, he wasn’t sure he’d ever remarry. But four years later, we met, and eventually, he opened his heart again. We got married when I was 31 and he was 34, and we now have two kids together.
Last night, we went to a friend’s potluck. Everything was going fine until the conversation shifted to relationships. One of our friends is newly divorced and was venting about her breakup.
Naturally, this led to everyone sharing stories about past relationships. I mentioned that I never thought I’d get married because my luck with men had always been awful—until I met my husband, who changed everything for me. I even said how lucky I felt to have him in my life.
Then, out of nowhere, my husband started talking about his late wife. Now, everyone in the group already knows about her and what happened. It’s not a secret, and I’ve always respected his grief and their history. But then he said something that completely blindsided me: “If she walked through that door right now, I’d pick up where we left off.”
I felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. My heart dropped, and the room went completely silent. Everyone could feel the awkwardness, but to avoid making a scene, I just forced a laugh and tried to play it off. Inside, though, I was devastated.
I couldn’t stop thinking: If you still feel that way, why are we even married? I’ve never asked him to “get over” his late wife. I can’t imagine how painful her loss was, and I’ve done my best to honor the space she holds in his heart. But saying something like that—especially in front of other people—felt like a betrayal.
When we got in the car to go home, I didn’t say a word. I needed time to process what I was feeling. Once we got home, I told him how deeply hurt I was and that I wanted to wait until morning to talk about it, so I wouldn’t say anything I’d regret. I ended up sleeping on the couch because he wouldn’t give me space, even after I made it clear I needed it.
It’s now morning, and I barely slept. He’s still asleep, and I’m sitting here trying to figure out what to say—or what he might say when we talk. I’m struggling to understand how to handle this. I know grief is complicated, and I don’t want to invalidate his feelings for her. But I can’t shake how hurt I feel, and I’m questioning where I even stand in his life.
What would you do if you were in my position?
