Hard copies of Marrying a Widower arrived yesterday. If you pre-ordered a copy, shared your story in the book, or served as a beta reader, your copy was mailed this morning!
From The HuffingtonPost comes the following experience of one woman’s marriage to a widower:
I do not need for my husband to tell me that I'm the love of his life. Which sounds like some dirty hippy swinger talk. But it's not. It's being married to a widower talk.
My husband's first wife, Hannah, died over 12 years ago. She was beautiful, kind and talented. And I'm not just saying that because you can't say things like "she was bearded, mean and caustic" about the deceased. (Though I'm sure there will be a few of my closest friends summing me up with, "She did go on and on... and my GOD the anger" after I'm gone.) Hannah was an amazing woman and her and David were together for over 10 years and had a son.
The words "WIFE" and "MOTHER" were off limits to me. They were TAKEN. And it's not David's fault because I had aggressively advertised myself as a woman who wanted no promises. I'd gone through a divorce and I hated promises. The Fed Ex guy couldn't even tell me that my package would arrive by 4pm without me pleading... "Please... no. Don't say that. What happens happens. Let's just be okay with the mystery." But I was living with David and Jack and I was a part of their daily lives. I wanted to know where David placed me in his heart.
So I cornered him the bedroom one day while he was putting away his socks. His back was to me as I casually asked him, "Isn't it odd that if we end up staying together that you'll go down in history as the love of my life?" He stopped putting his socks away and turned around and stared at me with what looked like sadness in his eyes and said "Awwww. That's so nice". He had said it to me like he pitied me. Like he'd turned around and found a little baby bird with hearing aids lying on his bed. At that moment I realized that he couldn't say it back to me and I was devastated. It took me months to stop telling every friend and taxi driver how I was with a man who would never be able to tell me that I'm the love of his life.
Read the whole story at The HuffingtonPost and thanks to Ted for the tip.
Fretting about where you stand in relationship to the late wife is never a good thing. The widower should be treating you in such a way that there’s no doubt in your mind that he loves you unconditionally. The author is apparently okay with the fact that she’ll never be the love of her husband’s life. While that may work for her, I don’t recommend settling for second place in anyone’s heart.
The human heart has a great capacity for love. Both Krista and Marathon Girl are the loves of my life. Krista was the love of my life back when she was alive. Marathon Girl is the love of my life now. There's not an order to which one comes first in my heart. But since Marathon Girl is with me now, my love, thoughts, and feelings for her occupy 99.9 percent of my heart and mind. I feel blessed to be married to Marathon Girl have five wonderful kids with her. I wake up every morning grateful to have her lying next to me and I can’t image my life without her. She is the love of my life and will continue to be so long as we’re both alive.
Your widower should feel likewise.