I exhumed my wife’s ashes, but didn’t tell my son or daughter

DEAR BEL,

THIS may be one of the most unusual requests for advice you have ever received.

Since 2001, I’ve lived in Spain. I have two married ‘children’ living in the UK, but no other relations or family.

In January 2000, I retired, and my then wife and myself planned to move to Spain, visiting a few times and finally deciding on the town where I now live. But four months after my retirement, my wife died of cancer and was cremated and buried in a plot in the UK — where the ashes of my mother and mother-in-law are interred.

Afterwards, I decided to make the move to Spain anyway and begin a new life alone, as my wife and I had intended.

Towards the end of 2001, as the time for my move drew closer, I felt I couldn’t leave her behind — not after all our shared plans and dreams.

So I made the decision to have her ashes exhumed and bring them with me to Spain to what would have been our retirement home together. In retrospect, I don’t think I was thinking rationally and so, for fear of upsetting my family, told no one what I had done.

I have now remarried and my

wife’s ashes are still with me here in Spain.

I keep them in a special place and have never told my current wife what I did.

But now I feel much guilt over the secret I have kept ever since — and I don’t know what to do.

I have thought about scattering her ashes privately here in Spain and, when I die, having my ashes scattered here also, keeping the whole matter secret.

But it worries me so very much as I grow older.

Although their visits to the grave have diminished considerably over the years, it has always upset me if either my son or daughter tell me they have visited the grave and laid flowers on Mother’s Day.

Shall I continue to tell no one — or risk much upset and ‘confess’ what I did? HUGH

We all make such plans for the future — investing much emotional energy in hopes and dreams that may never be fulfilled.

I have a superstitious fear of even saying to my husband, ‘Next year we’ll do X or Y’ — because it tempts fate. That’s why I find your letter so moving — and admire the courage that took you to Spain anyway, to bring to fruition the plan you and your late wife had made together.

Your explanation of why you disinterred her ashes must be understood, but to do this without telling your offspring? Yes, that was wrong. This is why it’s important to realise you must put the matter right, before it’s too late.

all of us have it in our power to right long-ago wrongs, even if only by an effort of imagination.

I certainly don’t think you need to confess to the rest of the family. What would be the point? They would be angry and hurt, for sure, and, at this stage in your life, you have no time

for such negative feelings. What’s more, you have only to imagine your second wife finding the ashes in the event of your sudden death to realise there is no time to lose.

This has gone on long enough. You must act very soon, with love and — yes — penitence.

The dilemma is so particular that I can only tell you what I would do in the circumstances, while urging you to check the legal restrictions on the treatment of ashes before deciding what exactly you should do.

A great believer in the power of ritual, I suggest two things to redeem the past and heal yourself for the future.

First, I would honour the love you and your wife shared and the plans you made, by taking a portion of her ashes (I hope you can bear to do this) from the whole, tipping them into an envelope, then going quietly to a spot where you remember she was happy in Spain — perhaps a view she loved. Then I would scatter (or bury) those ashes there, telling her aloud that you still rejoice in the life you shared and remember her with love.

After that, I would fly to England for a family visit, then go alone to that plot — after checking with the churchwarden or other official — carrying a small rose (or other plant) from a garden centre and a trowel. I would kneel to plant it, and quietly tip the remaining ashes into the hole. Firm the ground and water it, too — all the while repeating some of the words you spoke at home in Spain.

Nobody need know. Nobody should know.

But you will be at peace in the knowledge that when next one of your children visits the grave, they will no longer be deceived. And all shall be well.