18 Days As a Surviving Spouse

“He said, ‘I know you don’t need me. That’s part of what I love about you.’”

I won’t pretend to understand grief beyond what most of us have heard: that it comes in waves and there are supposed phases. But what I do know is that it’s real, relentless, and at times, completely gutting. I also know I’m still in shock - my husband passed unexpectedly less than three weeks ago.

I’m not in denial, but I do know I have to keep moving. Not just because I must for our young kids, but because I won’t let this loss destroy me. Honestly, my husband would be furious if I did. That’s not to say my heart isn’t shattered or that I’m remotely okay (other than the fact that I’m coping physically and emotionally as well as anyone could expect).

When I want to break down, I think of him - what he would want for me. He fell in love with me when I was seven months pregnant with another man’s child and embarking on a journey as a single mom (isn’t it funny how life works?). Early in our courtship, when I told him I wasn’t looking for a “replacement daddy,” he said, “I know you don’t need me. That’s part of what I love about you.”

(As it turns out, I do need him. My heart and soul ache for him. But I also know I’ll keep going. I’ll get to the other side, whatever that looks like.)

So after a good cry or a quiet moment of self-pity, I try to channel the woman he first fell in love with. The one who had faith that there’s a bigger plan, even when it makes no sense. Why he had to leave in this version of the plan, I don’t know. But as I walk this path, I’m committed to growing from it - and to being raw and real. I won’t sweep anything under the rug.

I’m still at the beginning. But already, there are things I want to do differently once the paperwork is behind us, once the shock fades, once our hearts stretch enough to hold this grief that will never fully go away. These are lessons I want to live by and pass on to my children.

1. Establish your independence.

While I’ve been mostly a stay-at-home mom throughout our marriage, I once had a career. I invested in my education. I know I’m marketable. I depended on my husband financially, and now I’m terrified about how I’ll move forward (I’ve seen “The Good Wife”). But deep down, I know we’ll be okay. It’s okay to depend on someone. I feel lucky I got to be my kids’ primary caretaker - it was a gift my husband gave all of us. But now it’s my turn. And I have everything I need to land on my feet.

2. Build your team—like, really.

Over the years, I’ve curated a team of trusted professionals: family attorney, real estate attorney, financial planner, accountant. I’m shaken, yes - but I’m equipped. And more than competent, they’re kind. Finding the right people is like dating. Values matter. I know I can reach out to anyone on my team with a question and not worry about the meter running. They’re human. They’re exceptional. And they’re in my corner.

3. Get life insurance.

I did this years ago. My husband never did. Now that I understand more about his heart condition, I see why he thought he’d never be approved. Could he have been? Maybe. But he thought he had more time. Don’t we all? My generous college girlfriends created a GoFundMe for my kids and me. I’m deeply touched. But I can’t help thinking - if he’d had a plan, maybe I’d feel less panic. Less guilt about leaning on others (another post for another time).

4. Talk about money.

We kept our finances entirely separate. That was dumb. At the very least, we should have listed each other as beneficiaries. Better yet, we could have shared accounts. I’ve already had to borrow money from my (younger!) brother just to pay my husband’s taxes. This could’ve been avoided. That said, I’m lucky to have the resources I do.

5. Add a legacy contact to your phone. 

(Or, share your passwords…) I can’t access his iPhone. Not without a court order. Yep - after the death certificate and after certification of the trust. Talk about bureaucracy. A simple setting could’ve saved so much time and stress.

6. Practice accepting help.

I got some training in this when my son was hospitalized over the holidays - I had no choice. But we shouldn’t have to hit rock bottom before we let others help. Mothers are especially bad at this. But the truth is: people want to help. Someone told me, “They give from the heart.” The generosity and support I’ve received over the past six months have been humbling.

7. Let your children carry you.

This is a tricky one. As the surviving parent, I’m their North Star. But I also need to grieve. How do I mourn without dragging them down? I’ve cried in the bathroom. They’ve seen my puffy eyes. I tell them, “I miss Daddy.” I answer any questions they have. And then we move on. They grieve in their own ways. Someone told me today, “It doesn’t really hit until 9 months to a year in.” That scares me. But right now, their rawness, their joy, their resilience - it carries me. They give me a reason to keep moving.

Following my last post, “surviving spouse” is an identity I can work with. It feels less suffocating than “widow.” Still sad, yes. But also, there’s a strength in it. My husband’s body failed. None of us knows what’s coming, but I do know this: I owe it to him - and to our children - to tend to mine. To be healthy. To keep going. To do more than just exist.

To survive.  And maybe, one day, to thrive.

Wouldn’t that be nice?