Selflessness

One of our brothers, Randy Ritua, recently posted a story initially posted by Teresa Presgraves Jones about her father suddenly losing his wife of 55 years.  Like all of us, he was shattered.  Shortly after her funeral, late one night, he insisted his grown kids take him to the cemetery immediately.  Reluctantly they agreed.  It was a predictably sad moment during which he said, in essence, unless you have walked the path I’m walking, you can’t imagine what pain is like after losing your soul mate after having been married so long.  He then said something that surprised them.  He said he was glad his wife had died before him so she would not have to endure the overwhelming grief he suffered after losing her.  It would have been a living hell for her, and he loved her way too much to want her to suffer as he was.

The overwhelming response from Randy’s readers agreed with the message.  Many had not looked at their situation this way and agreed that if anyone would have to suffer such pain, it should be us and not our beloved spouses.  If you are a member of the Widower’s Support Network – Members Only page on Facebook and haven’t read Randy’s post, I encourage you to do so, as it may provide you with a modicum of comfort when you need it most.

In 2015, my 85-year-old mother, suffering from dementia, had a heart attack while in the hospital for observation.  The staff did not get to her in time to save her brain.  Although she continued to live, she was gone already.  The doctors had put her on a ventilator long enough for me to drive to Nashville from St Louis to be with her when she died.  After I arrived, we removed the ventilator.  My mother was a fighter.  She did not go easily.  She lived for another eight hours before taking her last breath.

My father, the next day, though grief-stricken, told me that he had prayed to God that my mother would die first.  He knew that being left behind without him and unable to understand where he would have gone, she would enter a panic state from which she would never recover.  At the time, I thought it was the single most selfless act my father ever made.  It made a lasting impression on me.  Fifteen months later, he died suddenly and is now with my mother in paradise.

Skip forward two years.  My late wife, Jan, and I were in a terrible car crash three months after my father died.  She was an invalid for the entire year of 2018.  A month after getting back on her feet, after a herculean rehab regimen, she had a hemorrhagic stroke.  Over the next five months, she had two more strokes.  The second one took her ability to communicate.  The third one took everything else.  She was destined to have more such strokes.  I had her at home with me for 26 months with 24/7 caregiver support.  She was comfortable and loved dearly but was not living; she was merely existing.  My sons live a thousand miles away and could do little to support me but pray.  During that time, I thought back to what my father had told me when my mother died.  I realized just how desperately my wife needed me every minute of the day.  I was all she had.  Her life would be a living hell without me caring for her.  I prayed the same prayer as my father.  I asked God that she continue to live as long as I was there to care for her, but what I really meant was don’t let her outlive me.  Not long afterward, she suffered a fourth, massive stroke, went into a coma in seconds, and passed away six hours later in the ER of our local medical center.

I mourned her loss; I grief for her still.  I always will, but our prayers were answered like my father before me.  Our wives are at peace.  They will never have to suffer as he and I have and as each of you has suffered your loss.

I hope this posting helps you to realize how blessed you are to be able to make this painful sacrifice for your late wives.  To bear a cross, you would never have wanted them to bear.  I also hope that, if you see your situation this way, thinking about it in that light brings you some comfort that has long eluded you.  It is liberating for me to know that my wife was never left alone for a minute after our 51 years of marriage.  I was her life, as she was mine.  I can and will bear this pain for her.  It’s the last sacrifice I can make for my soul mate. 

Copyright 2023

Michael Burroughs is the author of Moving Mountains: Facing Strokes with Faith and Hope.  He is retired and living in St Louis, working with men who are caregivers and widowers as part of St Luke’s Hospice Services.