I Left My Marriage Because of The Ghost of My Husband’s Ex Wife

I married a man whose first wife died in a car accident. They had a daughter who was ten years old when we got married. I knew his story and knew how much he loved his wife, but I didn’t think that was how marriage was going to be with him.

After his wife died, he left the house they were living in and rented a new place. He said he was running away from the memories and also running from everything they shared in that house, but he carried every photo they had together—from their framed wedding photos to the ones they took on their phones.

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He has these photos on the walls of the house, on his phone, and in his wallet. When I moved in, I suggested he remove those pictures from the wall so we could create memories of our own. We had a traditional wedding and took beautiful photos too. I framed them and, while placing them on the wall, asked him to remove the old ones. He asked, “What’s wrong if they both stay on the wall?” I answered, “It’s our home now. We should make it wholly ours.”

He took it the wrong way and sulked all day because of that. I explained myself, telling him I didn’t say it with bad intentions. I told him it was okay if he wanted to have them there and that I was not going to talk about them again. We’ve been married for two years now, and those photos are still on the wall. Some mornings, you see him standing under one of the photos, looking at it with fixed, focused eyes.

It hurts me so much how he hasn’t moved on but pretends he has. Our marriage is living in the shadows of his previous marriage. He sees everything through the eyes of his dead wife. If I cook something I think he would love, he would say, “Alice made this dish some time ago, and it was divine. Thank you for making it too.” If I wear a dress I think is beautiful, he looks at me and tells me how I remind him of his wife and the day she wore something similar.

So I asked him, “Is it always going to be like this? You won’t compliment me unless I look like your ex-wife? When will this come to an end?” He apologized and told me he didn’t know he was doing that. That apology wasn’t even genuine because afterward, my husband coiled into himself and didn’t talk to me for days. I take such attitude with grace and pray that it will soon end, but it keeps getting worse.

When it comes to his daughter, it’s a nightmare. The girl resembles her father more than her mother, but for sentimental reasons, my husband sees his wife in her more than he sees himself. I like the girl genuinely. Right from the onset, I decided to be a mother to her. I didn’t set out to replace her mom but rather to provide a breast she could suck from.

It was all going well, and with the way I brought this girl close to me, if her father didn’t constantly remind her of her mom, she would have moved on by now. He keeps talking to her about her mother in heaven and how she loves her so much. Every night before the girl goes to sleep, he reminds her to “pray for your mother in heaven. Ask her to look over you.”

He tells me he has moved on, but clearly he hasn’t—and he also won’t allow others to move on. He constantly rants about how his daughter looks like his wife and will grow up to be exceptional like her mom. Here, I don’t have any right to reprimand the girl. If I do it softly, he has problems. If I talk loudly to correct her, he tells me, “Be careful you don’t break her. She’s fragile because of her mom’s death. Handle her the way her mom would have.”

I don’t even know her mom to know how she would have handled her. I want to handle her my way—softly, gently, and sometimes, when she goes overboard, I also go overboard with the correction. A girl needs to be laced with morals early before it’s too late, but my husband is in the way, dictating how she should breathe and fart just the way her mom would have done.

December 19th is the birthday of his dead wife. I woke up and saw him under the photos, wishing her a happy birthday in heaven. I walked past him to the kitchen without saying a word. A few minutes later, he went for his daughter, and they both came under the photo, instructing his daughter to “wish mommy happy birthday in heaven.”

I had tolerated that for so long, and that day I decided to act. I withdrew into myself and went cold. All day, I didn’t talk to him the way I used to. I cooked, served, and walked away. I avoided him like the plague. When he was in the hall, I was in the bedroom. He noticed and started asking questions. I ignored him. I carried malice for days, thinking about how to stop all that nonsense.

I took all the photos from the wall, placed them in a box, and pushed them under the bed. When he entered the house, that was the first thing he noticed. Minutes later, the photos were back on the wall. I told him, “Continue marrying her. I’m going where I’m also loved.”

I left the house and went to my parents. I told them what was going on. They said I was overreacting. I told them they’re not close to the fire, so they wouldn’t know how it burns. I had two things in mind: divorce or making him change everything before I returned to the house. Divorce sounded easier, but I wasn’t scared anymore. When he came here, I told him my options. My parents and his parents were present when I said it. He promised to make those changes.

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I haven’t returned yet. He tells me the photos are gone. I asked, “How about the ones on your phone?” He asked, “Are those part of the problem?”

That question is the reason I haven’t gone back. Everyone thinks I’m being too hard on him. I think I’m the one he’s being hard on—emotionally and physically. I’m determined not to go back until I feel safe in my own skin that it’s time to go.

Am I being too hard on him?

—Regina

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