Be the (Dead) Wife You Want to See in the World

Less is Memento Mori

While we’re on the topic of fictional tropes, I’d like to put forth a few observations about one of my greatest inspirations: the archetypal Dead Wife. 

Although literature is full of deceased spouses, I think primarily of the films that have brought us the Dead Wife Montage. If you are unfamiliar with this trope, you have only to watch an action movie filmed in the mid-to-late 2000s starring Leonardo DiCaprio. Often the Dead Wife is implied throughout the early parts of the film, but nothing is revealed as to her character. Our hero finds it too painful to speak about her. But, just as the film is drawing to its climactic fight sequence, there will be a moment that goes something like this: 

INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN — NIGHT

Leo and Chang are seated in the back of the van. Chang’s eyes are fixed on the monitor screen. We see grainy footage of an empty hallway. Leo, exhausted, stares off into the middle distance and begins to drift. 

The scene shifts to an open field. A woman in a large straw hat and sundress is laying out a picnic. She turns—it’s Maria. Her smile is as warm as the sun. 

Another memory: Maria walking the wooden floorboards in the bare front room of their first home. She twirls, laughing, her arms outstretched. Time passes and we see the quirky, yet tasteful decor spread throughout, all chosen by Maria. 

We see Maria and Leo arm in arm at a black tie event. She is stunning in a floor-length red satin gown. They are speaking to an older, distinguished-looking couple. Maria says something, prompting a laugh from the group. She turns to Leo and pulls closer to him, her eyes shining. 

Maria walking up the stairs at home after the event, crooking her pointer finger in a fetching, “come hither” sort of way. Leo, his tie loose, takes a step toward her. Suddenly, her brow furrows. She looks… worried.

MARIA: Leo.

LEO (to Maria): What is it? 

The scene evaporates. We’re back in the van.

CHANG: Leo. 

LEO (snapping back to reality) Huh? 

CHANG: It’s time. 

Leo draws a breath, summoning the last of his courage.

LEO: Let’s get those bastards. 

From this scene we can learn a few important points about our Dead Wife. First, she is beautiful. This is a given. Luckily, being dead usually makes you about 25% more beautiful than you actually were, which means if you were middling somewhere between a 7 and 8 in life, you would automatically jump to a solid 9 postmortem.  

That happy moment when a woman realizes the hurdle ahead is just death, and not a makeover.

Second, we notice the lack of children in our montage. Yes, there are many movies where the wife leaves behind a kid or two, but they are rarely present in the montage. We’re going for a DINK vibe here, which lends to the footloose and fancy-free character of the Dead Wife. It’s very important to note that our Dead Wife was footloose and fancy-free! You get the impression that she spoke her mind, wasn’t afraid to hold her own, and yet was constantly... *ahem*, available, to her husband.

Why do I bring all of this up? Well, one can face a certain degree of monotony as a wife and mother. Of course, the days are full of tiny joys, but one can only wash the dishes so many times without feeling like flinging a stock pot out of the window. Why must I be drenched head to toe each time I turn on my sink’s spray nozzle? 

In these moments, rather than giving in to bleak despair, I turn to my pet phrase: WWADWD (What Would A Dead Wife Do)?

A dead wife, if DiCaprio had anything to say about it, would likely take one look at her sodden frock, laugh charmingly up at the sky, and commence a water-fight with her husband, who will one day look back on this moment with fondness as he is being pursued by thugs. 

I tried this tactic last week after a dinner of soup. After rinsing out my stock pot, I didn’t let myself be demoralized by my clammy shirt—nay, I leaned into it! It went something like this:

INT. KITCHEN — EVENING

Effie, drenched in water, cackles haggishly up at the ceiling. Her husband looks concerned. Suddenly, she turns the hose on him, not noticing that he is holding the baby, who catches the jetstream in the face. The baby begins to scream, and the parents scramble for a towel. 

HUSBAND (to Alive Wife): What the heck was that about? 

This cutesy moment probably wouldn’t have been included in my montage anyway, due to the presence of the baby.

I also took a shot at the coy, come-hither moment. After a long day of study, my husband came home to find me at the door, covered in baby mucus, crooking my finger at him. Turns out everything remotely charming about the Dead Wife’s actions reads more like “evil crone” when performed by me. 

At left: “Come hither” Dead Wife style, At right: “Come hither” Live Wife style.

I will not be discouraged, dear reader! The best part about the Dead Wife is that most of the work of being charming was accomplished purely by dying. I am confident that, when my time on this good earth is complete, I will be at least 25% more attractive, witty, and intelligent than I am now. It’s a simple hack that the self-improvement books don’t tell you about. My meditations on death, once penitential, have started to look a lot more sunny. 

—E.F.S.