From denial to acceptance to denial again: Inside the mind of a wife who consented to ending her husband's life

Illustration: TBS

Half a dozen people crowded in front of the ICU, anticipating the pronouncement of something they were already sure of. The hospital's air conditioning kept the heatwave outside at bay. Yet, sweat welled up on almost everyone's faces and foreheads.

But there was an exception. 

Meera, a woman nearing her 50s, had no signs of emotion on her face. One could easily distinguish her from the rest; she was calm and collected, just letting everything be. 

She was the wife of the person on life support, a 55-year-old named Liton. 

Time seemed to be ticking slower than ever. Everyone except Meera was growing more restless with each passing second, trying to mask their anxiety by reciting Surahs and Duas. 

Meera was silent and indifferent. She was the one who had told the responsible doctor about half an hour ago to take her husband off life support, as the medical team had determined that further treatment was not in the patient's best interest. Now, her expression, or the lack thereof, suggested she had prepared herself for what was to come.

"I felt like I couldn't accept the truth. I was praying to Allah, pleading with Him to let this all be a dream and for my husband to still be alive," she said, letting out a sigh. "But that wasn't meant to be."

Finally, the moment arrived. A doctor emerged from the glass door and announced, "Liton Rahman is no more." 

There was an outpouring of sorrow from those gathered, including Liton's children, brothers and in-laws, as a chorus of wails filled the corridor. 

A couple of nurses donning white uniforms came rushing in, requesting everyone to keep silent, for the noise could be detrimental to other patients receiving care inside the ICU and CCU.

Meera, however, was not crying. There was no visible grief on her face. All that could be seen in her eyes was utter disbelief. With a stony gaze, she surveyed everyone around her, as if trying to gauge the reality of the situation. 

After several minutes, she finally moved, transitioning from standing to sitting on a nearby chair. She remained seated there for the next 10 minutes before her family members came forward and gently led her away.

Weeks later, I had the opportunity to talk to Meera. I asked her, in the most sensitive manner possible, what she was thinking when she found out about her husband's passing. Her response resonated with what I had observed firsthand.

"I felt like I couldn't accept the truth. I was praying to Allah, pleading with Him to let this all be a dream and for my husband to still be alive," she said, letting out a sigh. "But that wasn't meant to be."

For those familiar with basic psychological terms, Meera's state of mind can be described as denial — when individuals may refuse to accept the reality of the loss. They may believe there has been some mistake and cling to a false but preferable reality.

In fact, this is the first stage according to the Kübler-Ross model of grief, also known as the Five Stages of Grief. This model was introduced by psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her 1969 book "On Death and Dying".

The model outlines five stages that people typically go through when dealing with grief and loss: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. While originally developed based on the experiences of terminally ill patients, it has been widely applied to various forms of loss, including the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or a major life change.

Still, what makes cases like Meera's stand out is that this was not the first time she had experienced denial, followed by a couple of other stages of grief. Before conventional grief, she also had to go through anticipatory grief. 

"It was like déjà vu," shared Meera, recalling her initial feelings after the departure of her husband. "I sensed that I had experienced the same emotions before."

This happened around two years ago when doctors informed Meera that her husband had kidney failure and would not survive long.

That was the first time Meera felt like the sky had come crashing down on her head. She was told that the person who was the father of her two children and whom she had been married to for 25 years was going to die.

So, she first resorted to denial as a temporary defence mechanism. But what came next was not anger. Who would she be angry with anyway? Instead, she immediately moved on to bargaining.

"Coming from a Muslim family, we couldn't just give up. Despite what the doctors said, we felt compelled to seek Allah's help and do everything we could ourselves. That's why we took him to Chennai twice," Meera explained.

With such efforts, Meera and the rest of her family were attempting to "at least postpone the inevitable" and contemplating the "what if scenarios."

But when doctors in Chennai also delivered the same grim verdict, Meera's children fell into depression. They withdrew from their studies and social circles.

However, Meera had no such luxury. She was the one who had to be by her husband's side 24/7. She could not afford to show any weakness. No matter how exhausted or overwhelmed she felt at times, she never allowed herself to rest even for a moment.

And that led her to the final stage known as "acceptance", as her husband was put on life support. While other family members weren't quite ready to accept it, Meera found herself compelled to acknowledge the reality for two reasons.

First, she had to consider the financial aspects. Over the last few years, they had spent a substantial amount of money, much of which had been borrowed from others.

"So, I now had to consider whether we could afford to spend any more money if there wasn't any real chance," Meera admitted.

And then, taking her husband's physical pain into account was also important. "Instead of letting him suffer for more days, even if he was in no condition to feel it, I thought it was the right decision to end all the pain once and for all."

Of course, it was not an easy decision to make. She knew this one decision would haunt her for the rest of her life. 

Indeed, she now often feels angry with herself. She wonders if she really should have made the decision, if she truly had the authority to end someone's life. "I also ask myself if I was in a rush to end the suffering because I was too exhausted myself to continue," she reflected.

With her mind endlessly swamped with such thoughts, she also feels depression creeping in. 

The last few years were incredibly tough for her. Still, she had a battle to fight. Now she feels adrift without a clear purpose in life. Loneliness often weighs heavily on her. 

Her children have somewhat moved on; they have college and university classes to attend and friends to mingle with. But for homemaker Meera, just over a month after becoming a widow, there is not much to occupy her time. She is grappling with this new identity and has no clear direction on what to do next.

She keeps to herself most of the time and wonders, "I had accepted the reality while my husband was still alive. Now that he is really gone, why has it become so hard to swallow?"

[Names of the characters described in this article have been intentionally changed to protect the privacy of a grieving family]