What if it would have been me that died instead of him? I think of these things in the wee hours of the occasional sleepless night. Not so much these days, but in the early years? Yes. Oh my…yes. I tortured myself with every possible scenario this could have taken. Anything to keep me from hitting head on with…”Your husband is dead.” No…that simply will not do. Anything but that. I’d sacrifice my Aunt Sue’s cat if she had one. I’d do just about anything to keep from having to hear those fateful words.
But…what if? What if it would have been him that had to make all the ugly decisions like what kind of box to put me in and where to lay me to rest? What to dress me in? How long is an appropriate time to grieve before the casserole ladies start showing up at his door?
I remember distinctly the day we had the “death discussion”. Mr. Virgo’s cousin had gone through a liver transplant and a subsequent cardiac bypass surgery. He could have died any number of times in any number of ways. We prayed hard for him. His illness forced our hand and we had to have that difficult conversation no one wants to have.
I started out by saying “Of course, we’ll be cremated, and…”
“Whoa, now…wait a minute. I don’t want to be cremated!” he said with surprise.
I was stunned. “Really? Why not?”
“Because,” he said wisely. “You will need someplace to come visit me.”
I thought he was crazy. But he was right. I did appreciate having that place to go. And, I know he would want the same from me. But, I want to be cremated and divide my ashes between Colorado (where I have a plot beside Mr. Virgo) and WV. If I have a “last love”, I want to have some ashes beside him wherever he is. That doesn’t cover the entire conversation with Mr. Virgo.
I proudly announced, “I will never marry again! No one could ever compare to you.” I was expecting a similar, pithy response from my man. Imagine my surprise when he said, “I don’t like to be alone. I’ll find another relationship.”
Hummmmph!
I don’t recall my response exactly, but I’m fairly certain it wasn’t one of my finer moments. Now, with a widow’s heart, I think of that sweet man who loved me and who really hated being alone. How could I wish that off on him? I don’t know if I could have been so altruistic as to write his dating profile and make room for the next wife like that lovely story in the New York Times this week. But I would definitely want him to be happy.
It wasn’t me that died. It was him. So this is an exercise in futility. I still sometimes wonder though. What if it would have been me? ❤️
“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Romans 8:38-39 ESV