To the Grieving Wife Whose Husband Died Suddenly

If your husband died suddenly, I’m so sorry for your loss. I was 43 when my husband and the father of our three children was killed in a tragic snowmobile accident.

One moment we were saying “I love you” and enjoying the day…the next he was gone. The shock was as palpable as being slammed against a wall.

I don’t pretend to know what you’re feeling or experiencing. I do, however, know that your sudden grief is different from a wife’s grief who’s lost her husband to a long-term illness. If I can be so bold, I’d like to share with you some things I experienced that you also might experience at some point. If you don’t experience these things, that’s because your grief is going to be as unique as you are.

Every morning is a reminder…for a time. 

In the first few weeks that you awaken each day, you will experience the reminder that your husband is gone over and over again. You will awaken and for a few brief moments, you will have forgotten. Then the dawning will fall on you and your heart will break anew. I spent so many mornings crumpled by the sadness of coming face to face with his death almost as if it were the first time. This “twilight grief” will go away. I don’t know how long it will be, but by God’s grace…you will not hurt as much as you do now.

The pain will subside…I promise.

While you won’t hurt as much as you do now, you may find as I did that there’s comfort in the hurting. Somehow the grief seems to draw us nearer to our husband. And the day you realize that your cloud of grief is somehow lifting may bring another kind of grief. You realize that as much as you want to stop hurting, the sadness continues to bond you to your husband. And you’re afraid to move away from your husband by getting better. But get better you must.

You’ll long for him.

No marriage is perfect, but you and your husband chose marriage continuously. Through all the ups and downs, you hung in there and bravely chose commitment Every.Single.Day. Death took that away from you. You didn’t want to stop being a wife, a lover, a best friend, a companion. It was ripped from you suddenly and you’re left longing. Longing for his smell…his touch…his voice. Aching to make love again. To feel his body against yours. You will ache for him.

You will ache to be touched. So be touched. Get your hair done often. Get manicures, pedicures, massages. Your need for human touch must be met so pay someone for appropriate touch. It’s what I did and it helped me navigate the skin hunger of losing my husband.

Loss will deliver compassion for others.

Losing my husband suddenly and the shock of grief that came with it taught me to never judge how someone grieves. After Mike’s death, I had family members who went off the deep end of alcohol abuse and negative choices after losing their spouses. And I got it. I understood that they were doing WHATEVER it took to soothe their pain. And the truth is I probably would have done the same things if I hadn’t had three children and a Christian reputation to protect that gave me boundaries. Soon after my husband’s death, I saw a post from a Christian widower who said he was having sex with women and detested himself. I got it. It’s very hard to judge another’s grief after ramming headfirst into a husband’s sudden death. It hurts so much.

Do whatever you need to do to feel better…with boundaries.

Listening to the loudest rock music soothed my angry spirit for awhile. Weeping as I watched episodes of “A Wedding Story” helped at other times. Shopping, redecorating, taking classes, reading voraciously…they all had their place in my grief journey. For a time. Support groups didn’t help me, but that’s just me. I felt propelled to move from the “camp of death” and to pursue life. My children needed that from me.

The best advice I got after Mike died was just “to be.” To be present with myself. Be present with my grief. Be present with God as He lovingly carried my children and me through such deep loss. Listen to your spirit and do what soothes you. Avoid the “shoulds” right now. Avoid the people who all of a sudden want to become your friend to support you. You don’t have the energy for new friendships. Just be with those who have loved you before this day.

The worst advice? “Make sure you grieve.” Make sure I grieve? As if there’s any other choice? Give me a break. The people who give you this advice don’t realize that his absence lurks in every word, every song, every thought….every single day. You will cry in the strangest places. I sobbed while buying new tires, while watching my kids play, while waiting for coffee, when I saw a man who reminded me of Mike…the list goes on. You will cry a lot. And that’s from someone who didn’t cry much before.

Talk about him.

You will need to talk about your husband a lot. Cling to friends who are willing to hear the same stories again and again…until you’re ready to stop telling them. My daughter shared a memory of her father with a friend who told her, “You’ve told me that before.” I gently pulled the friend aside and told her that she’s really the only one my daughter was talking to about her dad. And she may need to tell the same story more than once.

Your loss will never be over.

You will grieve the loss of future anniversaries. You will grieve his absence at your children’s weddings and the birth of their children. You will grieve at small times that he would’ve been there and big times that his absence is glaring. You will grieve throughout the rest of your life, but the pain will subside. That’s God’s grace to us.

Grow deeper with God.

And, finally, if you’re a woman of faith, you already know the goodness and grace of our loving God who is walking through the valley of the shadow of death with you. You already know the peace that passes understanding, because you know there is no reason on earth that you have this much peace with so much loss. And for that, I’m very grateful for you. It is only by God’s grace and mercy that the human spirit can survive such loss even without a relationship with God. I believe, though, that the way is much smoother when we are carried by faith and a relationship with God.

If your husband has died suddenly, you will feel like you will never survive it. You will wonder how you can make it through one more day. You will stare into a future void of him and shudder.

But you will get better. You will always miss him, but you won’t always hurt like you do now. You will always long for him, but you won’t always ache. You will get better because get better you must.

Christine Yount Jones
Christine Yount Jones is Content Director for Outreach Media Group. She has published several books and hundreds of articles about ministry in the last three decades. Before his death in 2003, Michael Yount and Christine had three children. Now, she and her husband, Ray Jones, together have five grown kids.

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