The question haunts many couples in the aftermath of losing a child to suicide: Will our marriage survive this? You may already feel the distance growing between you and your partner, even as you share the same unbearable grief. Or perhaps you’re watching your relationship crumble and wondering if you’re failing at yet another thing.
Here’s what I can tell you from the other side of sixteen years: My wife Teri and I lost our 17 year old son John to suicide in 2009. Our marriage not only survived but deepened in ways we couldn’t have imagined. This year, we celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary. Teri and I co-facilitate a suicide loss support group, and we’re open and honest about the struggles we faced in our marriage after losing John. We’ve also sat with many bereaved parents whose marriages did and didn’t survive, and who have found healing and peace in different ways. Both outcomes are real. Both are valid. And understanding what you’re facing can help you navigate your own path forward.
The Myth That Terrifies Bereaved Couples
You’ve probably heard that 80% or even 90% of couples divorce after losing a child. This frightening statistic gets repeated so often that many people accept it as fact. It’s not. Research consistently shows that divorce rates among bereaved parents range from 12% to 16% comparable to the general population. A comprehensive study by The Compassionate Friends found that 72% of parents who were married at the time of their child’s death remained married to the same person. Of the remaining 28%, about 16% had a spouse who died, and only 12% divorced. These numbers align perfectly: most bereaved couples stay together.
72% of bereaved parents stay married to the same person
Source: The Compassionate Friends National Study
Most bereaved couples do stay together. There’s a profound reason for this: you and your partner share something no one else in your life fully understands. You both loved the same person with a parent’s fierce, unconditional love. You both carry memories that only the two of you share. The person lying next to you at 4 AM, also unable to sleep, knows your pain in ways even your closest friend cannot. When a memory hits you unexpectedly, your partner gets it without explanation. They can see it on your face, the details may not even be necessary. This deep, shared knowledge of your child can either divide you or bind you together more strongly than you ever thought possible.
But those statistics don’t tell you whether YOUR marriage will survive. Every relationship brings its own history, strengths, and challenges into this tragedy. Some marriages that were rocky before the loss cannot withstand the additional strain. Some solid marriages discover fundamental incompatibilities in how they process grief. The question isn’t just “will we make it?” it’s “what’s happening to us, and what can we do about it?”
When Different Grief Styles Feel Like Growing Apart
In those early months after losing John, Teri and I were drowning in grief, but we were drowning separately. She found comfort in a faith-based loss group and individual counseling. I drew strength from a suicide loss support group. At the time, these different approaches didn’t feel complementary they felt like evidence that we were growing apart.
I caught myself trying to “fix” her grief, convinced she was somehow doing it wrong. She needed more emotional expression from me than I was capable of giving. We were both intensely worried about our daughter, who had been close to John. We loved each other, we were both devastated by the same loss, but we couldn’t seem to reach each other across the gulf of our different grief.
This is perhaps the most universal challenge for bereaved couples: you learned how to grieve from your earliest role models, usually your parents. Some of us grew up in families where tears flowed freely and feelings were shared openly. Others learned to grieve privately, to “stay strong,” or to bury pain beneath activity. Neither approach is right or wrong, but when two people with different grief languages try to support each other, misunderstandings multiply. Grief researchers call this “coping asynchrony” when partners process loss in fundamentally different ways and at different paces.
One partner might need to talk about the child constantly, while the other finds silent reflection more bearable. One person may return to work quickly, seeking normalcy, while the other cannot imagine functioning yet. One finds comfort in faith, the other questions everything they once believed. These differences don’t mean one person loved your child more. They mean you’re two different people with different internal landscapes, now navigating the same unbearable loss.
The danger comes when partners interpret these differences as rejection or betrayal. The opportunity comes when couples can learn to respect each other’s grief journey but that requires intention, communication, and often professional help.
When Guilt Becomes Blame
As bereaved parents, we carry an enormous burden of “what ifs” and “if onlys.” We replay conversations and decisions, searching desperately for where we went wrong. This self-directed guilt is painful enough, but it becomes toxic when it turns outward toward your partner.
The “could haves” and “should haves” that torment you can unfortunately become weapons. “If only you had noticed.” “You were always too hard on them.” “You didn’t take it seriously.” These accusations might seem to offer an explanation for the inexplicable, but they damage the very relationship you need for support.
It’s crucial to remember that suicides happen because of an inner struggle your child was going through a pain so overwhelming that death seemed like the only escape. Blaming your partner is often another way of managing your own guilt, projecting your unbearable “I should have” onto their “you should have.”
Some couples get locked in this blame cycle and never escape it. Other couples with help from counselors who understand trauma and grief learn to work through guilt without destroying their relationship. They come to see that their child’s death wasn’t caused by either of them failing, but by pain that ultimately proved overwhelming.
The Other Challenges You’ll Face
Beyond grief styles and blame, other challenges inevitably surface:
Physical intimacy often shuts down. Many people experience a complete loss of physical desire after profound loss. One partner may seek closeness as comfort while the other cannot bear to be touched. Some couples experience the opposite increased need for physical connection as an affirmation of life. When partners have opposing needs, the resulting tension can feel unbearable. There’s no “right” timeline. What matters is communication, patience, and understanding that both responses are normal.
Practical stressors multiply. The financial impact of funeral costs and therapy bills creates tension. Household management falls apart when both partners are barely functioning. Each may resent the other for “not doing their part,” not recognizing that neither is operating at full capacity.
Parenting surviving children becomes fraught. If you have other children, disagreements about how to support them can drive wedges between you. One parent may become hypervigilant, the other may resist the overprotectiveness. These different approaches come from the same place love and fear but they create serious conflict.
These challenges can feel insurmountable. But most couples who face them do find their way through.
What Made the Difference for Us
Teri and I found our way through, but it wasn’t automatic or easy. It required letting go of the idea that there’s a “right” way to grieve and accepting that her path and mine looked different and that was okay. We each needed our own support systems. Her faith-based group and counseling gave her what she needed. My suicide loss support group gave me what I needed.
Eventually, I joined her in couples counseling, not because either of us was doing grief “wrong,” but to help us find common ground. We learned to stop trying to change each other and started simply being present with each other’s pain. We developed patience with different timelines I might be ready to sort through John’s belongings when she wasn’t, or I might have a moment of unexpected laughter when she was still in deep darkness.
We created shared rituals ways to honor John’s memory together that felt right for both of us. We gave each other explicit permission to heal, to laugh again, to move forward while still carrying John in our hearts.
“We never forgot that we were the only two people on earth who loved John as his parents.”
But here’s what ultimately sustained us: we never forgot that we were the only two people on earth who loved John as his parents. We were the only ones who remembered his first steps, his kindergarten graduation, the way he laughed at his own jokes. When I needed to talk about John at 4 AM, Teri understood without explanation. When she broke down crying at the grocery store because she passed his favorite cookies, I knew exactly what triggered it. That shared love, that mutual understanding of who we lost, became the foundation we rebuilt on. We both lost our son, but we each lost a different relationship with him.
Our marriage didn’t just survive it deepened in ways we couldn’t have imagined. We learned to hold space for each other’s pain without trying to fix it. We discovered that loving someone through the worst thing imaginable creates a bond that’s both tender and unbreakable.
This outcome required intentional effort, professional help, and a marriage that was solid before John’s death. Not all couples have these resources. Not all couples reach this outcome even with them. But most do find their way to some version of survival and connection.
When Relationships Don’t Survive And That’s Okay Too
While most bereaved couples stay together, I want to honor the experience of those whose marriages ended. Some marriages were already struggling before the loss, and the added trauma proved to be more than the relationship could bear. Some couples did everything “right” therapy, communication, support groups but discovered fundamental incompatibilities that this loss brought into sharp relief. Sometimes the relationship became so associated with pain that both people needed to move forward separately to truly heal.
If your relationship is ending, this doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re two people trying to survive an unsurvivable loss, and sometimes survival looks different than you thought it would. You can still honor your child’s memory. You can still be good parents to any surviving children. You can still eventually find peace and even joy in your life.
There is no moral superiority in staying married after this loss. There is only the question of what serves your healing and your children’s wellbeing.
What Can You Do When Your Marriage Is Struggling After Suicide Loss?
Whether your marriage survives or not, here’s what you have control over:
Seek support for yourself. Individual therapy, support groups, trusted friends who understand suicide loss these resources serve your healing regardless of your marital status. Organizations like the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention can help you locate support groups in your area. You cannot support a partner when you’re drowning.
Communicate clearly. Your partner cannot read your mind, and grief makes us all less capable of picking up subtle cues. Say what you need, even if it’s “I need space right now” or “I need you to just hold me.”
Avoid permanent decisions in acute grief. The first year after suicide loss is not the time to make irreversible choices about your marriage, if you can avoid it. Give yourself time to emerge from the fog before deciding whether your relationship can or should continue.
Get professional help early. Couples counseling with a trauma-informed therapist who understands both grief and relationship dynamics can provide desperately needed tools. If your partner won’t go, go alone. Working on your own healing can change the dynamic even if you’re doing the work solo.
When your partner refuses counseling: This is frustrating and common. Your partner might resist due to stigma about therapy, fear of being blamed, exhaustion, or belief that “talking won’t bring our child back.” You cannot force someone into counseling, pressure usually creates more resistance. Go alone. Individual therapy helps you develop coping strategies that can improve the relationship even if your partner never joins. Sometimes seeing positive changes in you eventually motivates a reluctant partner. Sometimes it doesn’t but you’ll still benefit and be better equipped to make clear decisions about your relationship.
Give each other permission to grieve differently. Your partner’s grief journey doesn’t have to look like yours to be valid. Different doesn’t mean wrong. Different doesn’t mean they loved your child less.
Be honest with yourself. Was your marriage strong before this loss? Are you both willing to do the hard work of healing together? Is the relationship adding to your healing or impeding it? These are difficult questions, but honest answers serve you better than denial.
Hope for the Path Ahead
Sixteen years after losing John, Teri and I celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary. We’re part of the majority of bereaved couples who stayed together, who found that the shared love for our child created a bond strong enough to carry us through. But We’ve also witnessed bereaved parents heal and rebuild meaningful lives after divorce. We’ve seen single parents, remarried parents, and long-married parents all find their way through the darkness to something resembling light.
The common thread isn’t marital status. It’s willingness to do the hard work of grief, to seek support, to be honest about what’s working and what’s not, and to give yourself grace through the impossible task of surviving your child’s death.
Most marriages do survive this loss. The person beside you, who also loved your child, who also carries this grief, who also understands your pain in ways no one else can there’s power in that shared connection if you can both hold onto it. But whether your marriage survives or not, you will.
One difficult day at a time, with support and compassion for yourself, you will find your way forward. Your relationship may survive this tragedy and grow stronger. It may not survive, and you’ll heal in different ways. Both paths can lead to the same destination: a life where you’ve learned to carry your child’s memory while also finding moments of peace, meaning, and even joy.
That’s not false hope that’s the truth I’ve witnessed again and again in the years I’ve been walking alongside other survivors.
Frequently Asked Questions
How can I tell if my marriage will survive this loss?
There’s no definitive way to predict outcomes, but certain factors matter: Was your relationship strong before the loss? Are you both willing to seek help and do the work? Can you give each other space to grieve differently without judgment? These don’t guarantee survival, but they improve the odds. More importantly, focus less on “will we make it” and more on “what do we both need right now to get through today?”
Is it normal to blame my partner after our child’s suicide?
Blame is extremely common among bereaved parents. The “could haves” and “should haves” that torment you can easily be projected onto your partner. While understandable, blame is destructive and often masks your own unbearable guilt. Professional counseling can help you work through these feelings and recognize that suicide happens because of internal struggles your child faced, not because any parent failed.
When should we seek couples counseling?
Ideally, seek help early even if you’re not in crisis yet. Definitely seek help if you’re experiencing persistent blame and resentment, communication breakdowns, inability to discuss your child or the loss, or frequent conflicts about grief. But don’t wait for crisis, prevention is easier than repair.
What if my partner won’t go to counseling?
This is incredibly frustrating and more common than you think. Your partner might resist due to stigma, fear of blame, exhaustion, or cultural attitudes about mental health. You cannot force someone into counseling, pressure usually creates more resistance. Go alone. Individual therapy helps you develop coping strategies and communication tools that can improve the relationship dynamic even if your partner isn’t participating. Sometimes one partner’s positive changes eventually motivates the other to join. Sometimes it doesn’t, but you’ll still benefit and be better equipped to make clear decisions about your relationship and healing.
Other Posts You May Also Like
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Finding Your People: The Healing Power of Suicide Loss Support Groups
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The Second Year After Suicide Loss: What to Expect
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Dealing with Difficult Questions After a Suicide Loss
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Holidays bring unique challenges as each person may have different needs around family gatherings. Learning to honor both partners’ needs is critical.
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