I never planned to remarry after my wife died – when I did I was shamed for it

My wife Nim passed away from cancer shortly after our 10-year wedding anniversary in 2018.

She was 34 at the time and I was 33. I never imagined planning my wife’s funeral at that age. I said in my eulogy: ‘You never expect to be carrying your wife into the crematorium.’

Nim first started getting pain in her chest and stomach in March 2017, and after losing a lot of weight, her GP referred her to a consultant. At the end of January 2018, we finally got the results of her biopsy but it was the worst possible news.

‘Unfortunately, you have stomach cancer and your life will be cut short,’ the doctor said. We were both speechless initially, and tears quickly started to roll down Nim’s cheeks.

Neither of us dared to ask how long she had left. All that mattered was her treatment now. After doing some research, Nim decided to undergo immunotherapy, which is a type of cancer treatment that helps your immune system fight cancer.

Unfortunately, complications during a routine operation caused Nim to develop a liver infection and sepsis. All her treatment plans were put on hold as Nim battled to fight off these infections.

I helped her through by spending as much time as possible with her and still trying to do normal things like go to restaurants and go for strolls in the park with the kids. But as time went on, Nim started to withdraw herself from everyone, especially the children.

Some family members would force her to hug the kids and talk to them but I knew what she was doing and why she was withdrawing herself. She was preparing to leave them behind.

Devastatingly, Nim never received her treatment. She deteriorated quickly and on 19 September 2018, my beautiful wife died. 

Nim and I had conversations about her end of life. I run a will writing business for the Sikh community, and help people plan for end of life, so I have no problem talking about death with customers. But when your wife is dying, it is so difficult.

She looked up and said, ‘Promise me that you will never marry again’

We spoke about how she wanted the children to be brought up, how she never wanted them to forget her. We spoke about her funeral wishes and she didn’t have any preference.

She wrote letters to our three children, Naveen, then seven, Avaani, five, and Veerun, two. But it was quick. Nim wasn’t ready. She gave me one-word answers. It was so difficult for her. 

I met Nim when we were 16 years old. She worked in River Island with my cousin, and I told my cousin at the time that Nim was fit! She dared me to go over and talk to her.

I casually strolled over and introduced myself, but she wasn’t having any of it. I went in every Saturday after that, just to see her. Eventually she caved and I got her number.

She was at Keele University and I was at Manchester University so we would meet every summer as friends. But in my final year of university, I decided to call her and invite her up to Manchester. I asked her if she wanted to get together and she smiled and said yes.

We got married in August 2008 and our eldest daughter, Naveen was born in June the next year. Our second daughter, Avaani, was born in 2013 and then our son, Veerun was born in 2015.

Life was great and we went on plenty of holidays. I played an active role in my children’s upbringing, which would prove extremely helpful after Nim’s death. Married life was good but like any other couple, we had our ups and downs.

Our 10 years of marriage was mainly about the children. Nim and I rarely spent any time together, which did have an impact on us both.

Around six weeks before Nim passed away, her mum came up to me and said, ‘Nim seems quite upset. Maybe go and see what’s wrong?’

I walked into the room. She looked up and said, ‘Promise me that you will never marry again.’ I was surprised to hear her say this but I said: ‘Of course I won’t!’ Obviously, re-marriage wasn’t even on my mind.

Looking back, I think she said it out of fear. She was scared that somebody was going to come in and replace her, and that the kids would lose that memory of her. But the kids were my focus and I wasn’t even thinking about remarrying.

It was a huge task to navigate the children through their grief. It was never something I’d imagined myself doing so young.

I remember celebrating my youngest’s third birthday — my wife was just sitting there in the corner of the room, her expression blank because she knew this was going to be her last birthday with them.

She was trying to process the enormity of that.

The day before she died – which was three months after Veerun’s third birthday – I explained to my children that Mummy wasn’t well, and she was going to go to God in the sky. The next day, I said that Mummy is now in the sky with God.

My eldest was seven at the time so she understood. My middle one was only five, and she went very quiet. She still is. She lets her feelings out by drawing and writing. But my little lad doesn’t understand death, so he was looking out of the window at the sky, saying ‘Mummy, when are you coming back?’

After Nim died, people praised me for being so strong and getting on with life with the children. I felt like I had turned into a robot with no feelings or emotions when I was out and about. But at home, there were plenty of times I would break down and cry alone, although never in front of the children. I didn’t want them to worry about me.

I would say the grief really hit me around nine months after Nim’s death. Before then, I was coping well as a single dad and business was booming. But in July 2019, I really struggled. I was depressed, low on energy, didn’t want to eat, see or speak to anyone.

Although it gets better sometimes, grief never goes away. Even the smallest thing can bring it all back – especially when you hear about people like Dame Deborah James.

I can truly empathise with what her family are going through. I’ve been there myself, so I know how hard it is to have those conversations about life after they are gone. About moving on. It’s an incredibly brave thing to do, so I admire her courage in telling her husband to remarry after she dies.

For me, it was different. Several people had advised me to get married again but I wasn’t interested. I just wanted to be there for the kids. I didn’t want to be with anyone.  

I know so many widows that have been disowned by their ex-in laws because they’re seen as damaged goods

And then I met Parm about three years ago. I’d started writing articles on LinkedIn about being a single, widowed dad and in one of them I’d written about the difficulty of taking my daughters to the bathroom on holiday. I wasn’t sure whether I should take all three of them into the ladies’ bathroom, or if I should leave two of them.

Parm messaged me, commenting on that article. She said I was amazing for what I was doing for the kids. She wanted a will because she was divorced and wanted to protect her assets so we arranged to meet.

It was a friendship first. She lived in Oxfordshire but was visiting a relative in the Midlands, so we decided to meet off the M40 motorway at a country pub. We hit it off immediately.

We had so much in common. We spoke about Nim, my kids, her kids, her divorce, and mutual friends. We had lunch and next thing we knew, four hours had passed and we didn’t even discuss her will! There was never any intention of being with her, we just both knew we were going to be friends.

We got the kids together over school holidays and they all got on. The first time we all met, we went to the circus and when it finished, Veerun wanted to go back to Parm’s house. I said to Parm, he never does that!

When Parm’s marriage ended, she was told by family and friends that she should move back home with her parents, but she decided she was going to do it alone. She was working three jobs at one point and had to sell her car to pay bills. It was a very tough time for her, but she managed to buy a house in Oxford for her family.

I wasn’t thinking of marriage when I first met Parm but we had so much in common. Becoming a couple was never part of the plan initially. Then Parm came to visit my children during lockdown in 2020 and I could see them really getting on with her.

That’s when we thought it could actually go somewhere. I spoke to the children about it and they seemed happy with it. Parm had reassured them that she wasn’t there to replace their mummy, she was there to support them.

I received a lot of backlash from certain people and online. Quite a few fake profiles were set up to troll me. These people disapproved of my relationship because apparently it was too soon. No one has lived my life and they have no idea what the kids and I have been through.

Today, these people talk to Naveen, Avaani and Veerun but don’t want anything to do with me. And that’s OK.

We’re now all living in our own house after moving in together in 2020. Parm has three girls, and I’ve got two girls and a boy. It’s absolutely manic but we love it.

Initially she didn’t want to move into my house because she said that was Nim’s place, and she didn’t want to take any memories away, so we rented a different property for a while. It’s bought us all closer together. In December 2021, we moved into a house of our own.

We take care to keep Nim’s memory alive any way we can. Parm is very much involved in this as well. She’s put photos of Nim up around our house.

If the children say to Parm that they’re forgetting what Mummy looks like, she’ll go through Nim’s Instagram and show pictures of her to the children and they’ll draw her. It makes me happy that Parm carries on Nim’s memory. The kids appreciate it too.

Lots of people appreciate Parm being involved like this, and my friends are very supportive of my new relationship. They can see how happy it makes me. 

Parm and I married last year at a beautiful ceremony with the children. I was in such a bad place a few years ago, but now I’m happy and excited for the future. We even started using #BlendedSikhFamily on Instagram, and it’s really taken off.

I’ve had a few people in similar situations message me to encourage what we’re doing. ‘Blended families’ like ours is a real taboo subject in Sikh culture. From my experience and what I have been told, I should be single for the rest of my life. This is more so for widows.

I know so many widows that have been disowned by their ex-in laws because they’re seen as damaged goods, so by posting pictures of our family and not hiding it away, I hope in some small way we’re changing perceptions.

Unfortunately, most of Nim’s family don’t talk to me anymore, but they still talk to my children, which is fine.

The way I see it, I’ve lost one set of in-laws but have gained another. I have no regrets marrying Parm because she has given another life to me and my children.

We’ll never forget the relationships we had before. Parm will never forget about Nim either. She will always keep her legacy alive by speaking about her.

For bereavement support, Marie Curie’s Information and Support Line is free to call on 0800 090 2309 or visit their website here.

You can follow Raj (@singhspirational) on Instagram here.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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