Talking With Friends, Sharing the Load Podcast

What Will You Do When Your Spouse Dies?

17 min · 6. maj 2026
episode What Will You Do When Your Spouse Dies? cover

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We had some friends over for dinner the other week, just a last minute pot-luck casual kind of thing. The best kind, in my opinion. During the meal the question was floated: if your spouse were to die, would you remarry? Little did we know, as we discussed the issue, that we were replicating, in real time, decades of research. The women all vigorously said “absolutely not” and while the men said, “oh probably not”, it wasn’t nearly as convincing. And of course, there’s the gap between what you say you will do and what you will actually do when the circumstance is upon you. Between the ideaAnd the realityBetween the motionAnd the actFalls the Shadow — T. S. Eliot The challenge, as Eliot and studies bear out [https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9386038/], is that there is a distinct gap between what we intend to do, say we intend to do, and what ultimately happens. We all know we’d like to be brave and stoic in the face of a terminal disease diagnosis and go bravely into the good night but will we, when the time comes? The circumstance of having your spouse die is, one hopes, remote and so it feels emotionally foreign. How then, can we even form an intention when we don’t know how we’ll feel, who and where we’ll be, when it occurs? In general we also imagine grief in the abstract. We expect to feel the loss of that person in our everyday life, the loneliness, the silent house. Women, it seems, also imagine the freedom, right there with the loss, and men may not entirely appreciate how much of their personal infrastructure is sustained by their wives. Sorry for the broad strokes or, as my Warsaw uncle puts it, “that was sewn with a pretty thick thread”. As you might imagine, the rationale for individual choices about remarriage relies on many varied factors including the potential co-mingling of assets which could, and does, go badly in many such circumstances. It’s pretty common to hear that the children, and even grandchildren, of the recently bereaved take huge exception to any new relationship which might intrude on the estate. This isn’t always selfish but rather a need to protect the widow/er from being pillaged. Other concerns hinge on the feeling that the deceased spouse would be, in some way, betrayed by a new relationship, assuming affection was still extant at TOD. Then there’s the thorny challenge of having to meet someone new before any kind of subsequent relationship can even occur. Naturally, I wanted to know what the stats say, as compared to our highly unscientific dinner table data. And, I wanted to canvas my friends and colleagues, of various ages, to see if I could get a sense of the differences across age and gender. Here’s what I found, with the statistical research first: Without allowing for age brackets, Wikipedia says more than 60% of men, and less than 20% of women are remarried or re-paired within two years of being widowed. Within that window, men remarry almost twice as quickly. That gap is even wider as you get older with widowed older men remarrying almost five times more than women do and cohabiting more than twice as much. Sounds like a lot but it’s a percentage of a very small subset. 94% of women remain single after the death of a spouse compared to 75% of men. In other words, most of us will not remarry and very few of us ( A year and half after bereavement, 15% of widows and 37% of widowers over 65) are even interested in dating. As we heard at the dinner table, it’s not just the act of remarrying, it’s the desire or intent that varies. 30% of men say they’re interested in a new spouse within the first six months of their last one dying. That compares to 16% of women. Within that first six months, 15% of those men are actively dating. Less than 1% of women are. Statistics Canada reports women aged 55 and up have more exposure to remarriage as they live longer than men on average, but still have significantly lower rates of remarriage. In Canada in 2022 [https://www.statista.com/statistics/446075/resident-population-canada-by-marital-status-and-gender/], there were 1.59 million widowed women versus 472,170 widowed men so the fishing pond is not evenly stocked. In this country, twice as many widows and widowers remarry than simply live together. Strangely, that’s reversed in Quebec. The average age for these Canadian brides was 63.4 (in 2008) and 72 for the grooms. There’s a saying that “women grieve while men replace” but that wasn’t what I was hearing from my circle, nor does the research necessarily support it. Widows grieve, but not forever. They often come to value freedom they may not have enjoyed earlier, and sometimes they are released from caregiving duties and in no way interested in taking those on with someone new. Especially someone new who’s old. Men, on the other hand, are not driven so much by loneliness as by the need for social and domestic support, particularly amongst men who don’t have a tight circle of friends. The more friends a man has, the less he needs a new wife, basically. It comes as absolutely no surprise that the older you are, the probability of remarriage falls but the drop is much steeper for women. The ground falls away for men around age 65, for women, say goodbye to the fairytale ending at age 55. Pretty much the entire global population shows the same patterns and the same gap over age and gender. No doubt there are some pockets which buck the trend but I’ve yet to discover them. Atlantis maybe? I wanted to canvas my friends and colleagues, of various ages, to see if I could get a sense of the differences across age and gender. I’m absurdly grateful to those of my friends who sent me thoughtful responses. Some of them were, or currently are, in exactly the post-death period, tentatively dipping a toe into the dating pool, only to find the water is slimy and full of disgusting creatures that defy categorization. Others are in the anticipation boat, pushing off into the unknown. A young friend, with young children, explained why I might not have heard from all the other young marrieds I canvassed. I can’t even bring myself to imagine losing my husband with my children so young. Their loss brings me to my knees. With any luck the chances of being widowed are so far in the future that I might be able to think about it, but right now I just can’t. For those in middle age and up, dating is part of the pragmatic side of the situation; the emotional side is much more nuanced: First I have had to get to a space where I am actually ready to wrap my mind around dating someone else. After 3.5 years, I am finally getting there. Until then it has felt like a big no. The thought of dating is tough. Then the thought of finding someone who can show the respect that my husband had for women. Super tough. And a biggie for me. I know I should not try to replace him but he was such an amazing partner and person, he is a really tough act to follow. Regarding the question of marriage, I think it relates to age. If I do actually meet someone, I don’t think I would want to get married. I am not even sure if I would want to live together. Why would I need to? Seeing them a few times a week would be plenty I would think. I like my space. Also, if you did decide to live together, whose place would it be? Also with marriage, there is the financial aspect. I am not interested in sorting that out. I have adult kids and grandkids, and a sister, who will be needing my monies — lol. Remarriage if necessary, but not necessarily remarriage. Never again. I have a cardinal rule …..no co-mingling; not bank accounts, property, credit cards, family and space (closet, bathroom and desk). Only fun, good times, great conversation and thoughtful, caring consideration. Back to displacement theory, for a minute. I look at it from the other end; how would I feel about being dead and having someone new move into my house, use the dishes I chose and sleep in my bed with my husband? Irrational for sure but it’s the way I think about the what-if time, after. Women of a certain age all expressed a concern that anyone they connected with now would likely need caretaking, whether they’re explicitly looking for it or not. There has always been a part of me that felt I wasn’t complete unless I had someone with whom to share my life. That’s no longer the case. I’ve decided the negatives outweigh the positives. Any man who comes into my life now is going to be looking for someone to take care of him. It never seems to be an even playing field, at least in my experience. After my last relationship, my kids questioned why I felt the need to ‘take on’ men. They have told me I’m great on my own, and I’m actually beginning to believe that! Men who have been widowed have different comments about their choices. I know what it is like to lose a spouse of many years and there is a tumble that can lead to deeper loss or somehow a new awakening. For me after about a year and a few early relationships I recognized that I wanted deeper and richer relationships. I spent a lot of time reflecting on the future. What did I want? That emerged fairly quickly for me. Less than one year. I think it bubbled to the surface because of the relationship I had with my wife. One thought that emerged was not to remarry. My commitment is my bond. I had married and felt that if I were to make a commitment to another woman, I did not need a ritual sanctified by the state or church to bless my relationship. I would also have very clear expectations about what I wanted out of a new relationship and would not jump back into a cohabitation arrangement without knowing someone more deeply. I seem to recall four requirements. One, the new partner needed to be intellectually strong, two physically active, three attractive but not a beauty queen with only Gucci clothing; and finally, financially sound. BTW I did not get everything. Another male friend, who lost his wife to cancer when they were in their late 40s, demurs at my recollection of his phone ringing off the wall from would-be partners, in the year following his wife’s death. He does admit, however, that he already had a large circle of single friends and met other singles courtesy of well-intentioned friends who didn’t want to see him alone for too long. At first I thought, oh man, this doesn’t feel right. There were a lot of emotions around it [dating]. I hadn’t closed the door on another long term relationship, lots of guys do, but honestly, I didn’t expect to meet someone just right. When I did, she was ten years younger with young kids and I thought, am I crazy? My dad died when I was 14 and my mom was 47. She began dating what felt like pretty soon after and I asked her why she felt she had to get married again. She was born in the 20s, had never worked and told me she felt she simply had to have a man to look after. A recently widowed female friend has begun dating, with huge reservations. When I fell so madly in love with [my husband] I had no idea how much the loss of him would cost me. The pain has been equal to the love. I wouldn’t want to remarry without that degree of love but fuck me that is scary. I was already an avoidant so add to that a gaping hole in me and it is terrifying to consider doing that again. My girlfriend asked me, “did it not hurt enough the first time”? Some days when I am very lonely, hooking up with a long term partner feels like the solution. This always worries me because another person is never the solution. What no one mentioned, in all my field and scientific research, was the possibility of your late spouse haunting your days so please, enjoy this scene from the 1945 film of the Noel Coward play, “Blithe Spirit”. Poor Ruth, indeed. Until next time, remember what Joni told us: you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. Thanks for reading Talking With Friends, Sharing the Load! This post is public so feel free to share it. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit joannapiros.substack.com/subscribe [https://joannapiros.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

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episode Dying in Public artwork

Dying in Public

Initial reports of another ferry shutdown were met with the usual shrugs and sighs of resignation by those of us who must rely on the system, much to our frequent disappointments. As the day unfolded and more and more sailings were cancelled, rumours swirled and finally solidified. Someone was balanced on the railing of the boat which had docked and unloaded earlier, and it was looking more and more like a public suicide attempt. After a 7 hour stand-off, the distraught male asked for a Coke and when negotiators rolled it across the deck to him, and he reached for it, they tasered him, and took him down, presumably to hospital. Why do some people choose highly public places to end their lives while others retreat to their homes or various non-public places? A 2024 Australian study [https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC11977852/] dissected 42,656 suicides which had occurred over 17 years. Without belabouring the details of what was deemed public versus private space, the study found one quarter of all suicides occurred in public places, almost 70% at home and 5.4% in inpatient wards or correctional facilities. Talking With Friends, Sharing the Load is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. What’s also interesting is the comparison of death by suicide against attempted suicides. Public locations tend to be great heights, train or subway tracks, or other high fatality choices so the proportion of “successful” public suicides is higher. Most public suicide locations are high-lethality but also present the opportunity for public intervention, official or otherwise. Jumping from great heights such as the Golden Gate bridge, or other tall structures, accounts for fewer than 10% of total suicides globally although that increases to 24% in New York, 45% in Hong Kong, 60% in Singapore and 70% in San Francisco, thanks to the bridge. In 1978, Richard Seiden conducted an important study of 515 people who were physically restrained from jumping off the Golden Gate between 1937 and 1971, and found that roughly 94% had not died by suicide at follow-up. Despite this, all attempts to target harden the bridge failed because the thinking continued to be, “they’ll just go somewhere else”. In fact, they didn’t go somewhere else, nor did the vast majority commit suicide. Many years went by before netting was installed around the Golden Gate in 2024 and the results are pretty compelling [https://www.psychologytoday.com/ca/blog/through-the-fire/202601/the-golden-gate-bridge-net-is-saving-lives]. Since the bridge opened in 1937, it averaged about 30 deaths by suicide per year. Since the net was installed two years ago, there have been only 12. The word, net, implies something fun and bouncy but it’s determinedly not. The design is an intentional deterrent on multiple levels. It’s marine-grade stainless steel, very taut and tightly woven — the bridge’s General Manager described it as “jumping onto a cheese grater.” The bridge is one of those sites which draw people to carry out, or attempt, their suicide and that contagion aspect is well documented. But researchers like David Lester write about a symbolic dimension: certain sites carry cultural weight as thresholds, liminal spaces between one state and another. A ferry is the connection between two shores, almost too on-the-nose. Is it a cry for help? The many people who study suicide, as a mental health issue, as a public health issue, and as a behavioural inspiration, have moved away from categorizing suicide attempts as either a cry for attention or a real attempt to end a life. They still say some acts are intrapsychic, intended to end real pain, and others are mostly interpersonal, aimed at being witnessed, heard or responded to. The difference is that most suicide attempts are both, with ambivalence being the common denominator. Thomas Joiner, whose own father committed suicide, has an Interpersonal Theory of Suicide [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interpersonal_theory_of_suicide] which theorizes that suicidal desire arises from two converging states: thwarted belongingness (profound disconnection, the sense of being outside human community) and perceived burdensomeness (the belief that one’s death would benefit others). The capability for suicide — the acquired ability to override the self-preservation instinct — is a third element. Certainly the man on the BC ferry railing was demonstrating thwarted belonging by demanding witness to his disconnection. When he shut down a major transportation hub for seven hours, affecting hundreds of strangers, and commanding a full emergency response he finally became visible in a way he wasn’t before. Maybe. Where Joiner’s work [https://www.psychologytools.com/articles/profile-thomas-joiner-and-the-study-of-suicide] becomes controversial is his estimate that 40% of the tendency to suicide is genetic, based on fear and pain processing, both of which are genetically predisposed. In an interview he said: The novel part of the model is trying to explain why it is that some people carry those thoughts forward into behavior. And there is where the third factor kicks in. That one has to do with what we've named The Capacity for Suicide. That capacity is made up of things like being fearless about death, being fearless about physical injury.Being fearless in general, just a fearless character, but also of things like pain tolerance. People have high pain tolerance or unafraid of physically painful things. And then a third aspect of that capacity idea has to do with practical knowledge. Do you know how to operate something like a weapon, for instance? Psychiatrist Erwin Stengel’s 1958 monograph Attempted Suicide: Its Social Significance and Effects is cited as the first to identify what he called the “appeal function” of suicidal behavior as a coherent psychiatric concept. He wrote: There is a social element in the pattern of most suicidal attempts. Once we look out for the element we find it without difficulty in most cases... In most attempted suicides we can discover an appeal to other human beings. And it turns out, some human beings do respond, and the response can be positive. A more recent study in the UK [https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6887022/] pursued interviews with people who had been talked “off the ledge” by a stranger, and those who had taken it upon themselves to intervene when they saw someone in crisis. What both groups reported was a profound sense of dissociation, being “in a bubble” while in the process of deciding to jump. A passerby becoming involved effectively burst the bubble and reconnected the person with the world. Here’s a bit from that study’s summary: This is the first empirical study to examine the role of passing strangers in preventing suicides in public places. It shows that no specialist skills are needed. Interveners were ordinary people, distinguished only by a high level of social awareness, combined with a readiness for social action. The findings also suggest that people do not need a script and should not be afraid of saying ‘the wrong thing.’ What interveners said was much less important than how they made the suicidal person feel, namely safe, connected and validated (‘I matter’). Interveners did this simply by being themselves, responding with authenticity, calmness and compassion. The strangers who intervened were the exception, sadly, and not the norm. Some years ago I reported on a “bridge jumper” as we called them in the newsroom, on the Ironworkers bridge in North Vancouver. Once police were on scene and traffic had come to a complete standstill, people came out of their cars and began cat-calling and exhorting the individual to jump. This behaviour even has a label, it’s called baiting behaviour or the “jump” phenomenon, studied by a guy named Leon Mann who listed the conditions under which crowds change from passive bystanders to active provocateurs. The crowd anonymity allows people to behave in ways they would not exhibit if they were alone. The UK intervention study also highlights an important cultural assumption. All our “Western” interventions, including engaging a stranger in distress, focus on the individual, that the person in distress wants to be seen as an individual seeking help and that connection to others is stabilizing and reassuring. In Eastern cultures identity is derived from social affiliations and responsibilities, collectivist compared to Western culture, which is characterized as individualistic. So shame and honour, and loss of face, is seen as a burden to the family or even the community. Like much research, including medical research into the effects of medication, some groups are most frequently studied, to the detriment of others who receive the medicine. For example, cardiac medication given to women which has been exclusively tested in men. Research literature now uses the acronym WEIRD — Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, Democratic — to describe the populations on which most psychology research, including suicidology, is based. As a result, the prevention strategies, and even the understanding of the motivations, may have very little to do with what goes in in different cultures. For example, Korea has the highest suicide rate among OECD countries, yet its research on suicidal behaviours [https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5714711/] has been described as primitive. A January 2026 paper in Frontiers in Psychiatry [https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC12891080/] calls for a paradigm shift toward “cultural grounding”. From the introduction to the paper: Suicide represents one of the most pressing public health crises of our time, claiming over 700,000 lives annually (1 [https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC12891080/#B1]). It is a global phenomenon that transcends borders, age groups, and socioeconomic strata, necessitating robust prevention strategies worldwide. However, a significant disparity exists in the global mental health landscape: while 77% of global suicides occur in low- and middle-income countries, the theoretical frameworks, assessment tools, and evidence-based interventions designed to prevent them are overwhelmingly products of high-income, Western societies (2 [https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC12891080/#B2], 3 [https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC12891080/#B3]). This discrepancy raises important questions about the cross-cultural efficacy of standard prevention models when applied to populations with vastly different social ontologies. The East Asian region, which bears a heavy suicide burden, serves as a critical context for examining these challenges Private lethality People who die in private, at home or office, alone, using methods which are highly lethal, show different profiles than the public attempts, and this information comes from what’s termed psychological autopsy, something we all indulge in after hearing about the self-inflicted death of someone we knew. Was there long standing depression, social withdrawal, previous planning or discussion with less ambivalence? What could we have done to prevent this tragedy? Another thinker in the field is Edwin Shneidman [https://www.psychiatrictimes.com/view/suicide-psychache-and-alienation] who coined the term psychache to describe unbearable psychological pain which leads to suicidal behaviour. The psychache is a symptom and there is no audience required because the goal is to end the pain, not communicate it. The response gap I started out wanting to understand what motivates public suicide attempts versus private ones. What I’ve found is that the distinction itself may be a cultural construct at its heart. Here in the west, private suicide is a determined act, even when there is some ambivalence (most self-poisonings are done in private but most don’t succeed), while in eastern societies public suicides are more determined, not as an attempt to connect but rather as a social statement. In both cases the audience is the point. The man on the railing at the Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal and the man on a Korean bridge may both be in public, but they may be doing entirely different things. The uncomfortable question underneath all of this: what does it say about our mental health systems and community that someone must shut down a ferry terminal to receive seven hours of undivided attention? Private death wishes go largely unnoticed until it’s too late; the public act generates massive, costly, and ultimately clumsy responses. Neither outcome reflects a system that’s working. The crowd that shouts “just jump” is a third failure — the community response that actively withdraws the very witness and connection the person on the railing was seeking. If the man on the railing is asking for recognition that his life matters, that crowd behaviour comes as a resounding message that he matters less than does their inconvenience. For music today, here’s Rick Astley’s 1991 release of “A Cry for Help”. Until next time, don’t be the one who yells, “jump”; be the one who helps. Thanks for reading Talking With Friends, Sharing the Load! This post is public so feel free to share it. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit joannapiros.substack.com/subscribe [https://joannapiros.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

10. juni 202619 min
episode Triple Threat artwork

Triple Threat

He’s an award-winning Indigenous entrepreneur, a passionate proponent of the cyclical economy, a high-school dropout and recovering alcoholic, and disarmingly frank on all counts. Meet Aaron Joe. In the past year, Aaron has won a number of prestigious awards, from Indigenous organizations [https://indspire.ca/laureate/aaron-joe/] and also from Business in Vancouver [https://www.biv.com/news/economy-law-politics/biv-announces-2025-bc-c-suite-award-winners-11258056] and Ernst & Young. [https://www.ey.com/en_ca/entrepreneur-of-the-year-canada/meet-the-winners/pacific-2025] However. There is one accolade he received which wasn’t written up in the media, which wasn’t institutional recognition, which mattered a whole lot. That small story is a precise articulation of what intergenerational trauma repair actually looks like from the inside. Aaron’s growing up story isn’t unique amongst indigenous people in Canada. It’s archetypal. He was a mixed-heritage kid growing up on the rez in what was a noticeably racist town. 25 years ago, while evading capture by 4 police cars, he probably didn’t picture where he’d be at 50. Or if he did, it sure wasn’t “award winning entrepreneur and inspiration”. It was a different time. He refuses the victim frame without denying the injury. Victimhood, however, was a lesson learned at home. Operating in both worlds, he became a chameleon of sorts, passing as white in town and code-switching back to indigenous on the rez. That ability served him well and became a competitive advantage that shaped who he is as an entrepreneur. Aaron’s take is that a place at the economic table is worth more than any symbolic reconciliation, that the antidote to dependency or victimhood isn’t just willpower, it’s economic agency, equity and the dignity of a pay cheque. That’s not to say that starting a business isn’t fraught with pitfalls, particularly when you come from a place where business savvy isn’t assumed, and equity doesn’t exist. He’s particularly incensed by what he calls “The Indigenous Business”, buttressed by predatory consultants who step in to “help”, write grant applications and then keep 90% of the proceeds, perpetuating victimhood and making money off the backs of indigenous people who don’t understand the game. He started his business, Salish Soils, with his brother and his wife. Initially his brother was the only one getting paid. Today the business is a model of values-based production, where the company makes money off the inputs, compostable and green waste, and then makes money on the outputs as well. Salish Soils employs more than 30 people full time on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia and is a model which multiple communities are looking to as a way of managing our non-stop production of waste, while giving back to the land base. The company’s expansion is inevitable but Aaron is confident he’ll know when he’s grown enough. “It could be much larger, but I also love a quality of life. I like having a good life and right now, I’ve got that space.” Beyond being comfortable, he finds himself in a position of significant influence where it matters most to him: giving young people growing up on the rez, under the “ambition ceiling”, a tangible, close-to-home example of what’s possible. Advice? Sure, he’s got some. The musical selection today is what Aaron would choose as his “walk-on” song. Until next time, be in service to your family, your community and yourself. It’s just a shot away. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit joannapiros.substack.com/subscribe [https://joannapiros.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

27. maj 202614 min