For two decades after her tragic death, Joe DiMaggio sent a half-dozen red roses to Marilyn Monroe’s grave three times a week. To the public, it seemed like a romantic gesture from a heartbroken ex-husband who never stopped loving her. But behind this act of devotion was a chilling blend of guilt, heartbreak, and an unresolved grief that haunted DiMaggio for the rest of his life.
Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe’s relationship was intense, passionate, and deeply troubled. They married in January 1954, but their union lasted just nine tumultuous months. DiMaggio, the baseball icon, was a conservative and private man, while Monroe was a rising Hollywood star who captivated the world with her sensual charm. Their contrasting lifestyles and Monroe’s growing fame created constant tension. DiMaggio reportedly struggled with her sex-symbol image, especially when Monroe filmed the now-iconic subway grate scene for The Seven Year Itch, which featured her white dress billowing in the air. He was said to be furious, viewing it as an exploitation of his wife—and himself.
Their marriage ended in divorce, but DiMaggio’s feelings for Monroe never faded. In the years following their split, Monroe’s life spiraled. She battled mental health issues, substance abuse, and endured a series of failed relationships, including a high-profile marriage to playwright Arthur Miller. Through it all, DiMaggio stayed in quiet contact. In the final year of Monroe’s life, they reportedly reconnected. Some close to them believed he hoped for a reconciliation.
When Monroe died of a barbiturate overdose in August 1962 at age 36, DiMaggio was devastated. He claimed her body and took charge of her funeral, deliberately excluding most of Hollywood from attending. He blamed those around Monroe—particularly the Kennedys and people within the entertainment industry—for her decline. According to some reports, DiMaggio believed she had been used and discarded by powerful men, and that her death was not merely an accident.
Then began the roses. Three times a week, for twenty years, DiMaggio had them delivered to her crypt at Westwood Village Memorial Park in Los Angeles. It was a tribute, but also a ritual—a penance of sorts. Some speculate that DiMaggio never forgave himself for how he treated her, including allegations of controlling behavior and a volatile temper. Others believe it was his way of maintaining a connection with her, as if the flowers might bridge the gap between life and death.
Perhaps the most chilling part of this devotion came from DiMaggio’s refusal to speak about Monroe publicly. He turned down book deals, interviews, and movie offers, famously telling friends, “I’ll go to the grave before I ever talk about her.” He kept his silence until his own death in 1999. According to his lawyer and friend, his final words were whispered and simple: “I’ll finally get to see Marilyn.”
What made the roses so haunting wasn’t just the love they symbolized—but the ghost of guilt, the shadow of loss, and the echo of a man who, in mourning the woman he once had, was never quite able to let her go.
