That which does not kill me...will when I blog it.
I have to admit it's getting better all the time

The love of my life...AND death

The other night Clay and I were watching a movie, and at the end there was a note, saying that the couple in the movie were married for thirty some years, and when she died, he died four months later.

"Awwww, honey," I sighed, "did you see that? He LOVED her."

"Mmm-hmmm," said Clay, as he rooted around in the bathroom cabinet for the floss.

"You'd do that, right?"

"Do what, now?" He was walking past me, floss in one hand, on his way to let the dog out.

"You'd die." He stopped at the door, and turned to look at me.

"You mean, like to save your life?"

"Well, duh, then. No, what I meant was when we're old and the kids are grown and gone, if I die first, you'll die within a few months. Right? What with the broken heart and all."

"How am I supposed to know if I'd DIE?"


"You know I love you."

"Then why wouldn't you DIE?"

He sighed and disappeared into the garage. When he returned I was in full-on pout.

"WHAT?" As if he didn't know.

"I'D die if YOU died."

"Suicide is wrong."

"I'm not TALKING about suicide. My heart would just...wind down, like a clock that no one winds anymore. Life would hold no interest. Food would be sawdust in my mouth, and the sunrise would look like a paint-by-number picture. Unpainted."


"And then I would die." I sank back against the cushions of the couch, to illustrate. Then rolled my head his direction, opened one eye and prompted, "and you? If I should die first?"

"Fine, I would die."

"Within three months? Four, tops?"


"Do you PROMISE?"

He leaned against the wall and looked at me. Clay is not one to make frivolous promises. He means what he says, by golly, and that is not a quality to be relinquished lightly. Despite my dramatic plea, he knew this was not a promise he could actually make, logically.

On the other hand, if he didn't promise I would keep convincing him, and he wanted to go to sleep.

"Fine. I promise."

I beamed.

"You LOVE me!"

"I believe I already said that."

And then he walked away, shaking his head. He muttered something that sounded sort of like "I cannot BELIEVE I just promised to die," but I'm sure it was actually, "OH HOW I LOVE THAT BRIDE OF MINE."

He's so blessed to have me. Alive.



Isn't it empirically true that if a beloved wife dies, the husband is much more likely to kick over within a year than if the husband dies? John and I, we are going to die at the same time. It'll save a lot of trouble.


OK.............BRRRAAAAAAAP, cough, sputter....I'm barfing.

Mary Jo

See now that is a conversation my husband and I would totally have. Me forcing a promise of death to prove his love. HAHA

Linda Sherwood

In this whole paint-by-number unpainted scenario, you totally forgot to factor in grandkids because I hear (although I do not yet want to know) that grandkids color life pretty darn well....


Mine would have said something like, "No, I'll take the insurance money, move someplace tropical and find a nice local woman to console me" just to get me to shut up.

It works too, because I don't like hearing that, even though I'm sure he would be sad. He totally would move somewhere tropical.

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