At the end of a mini series about the American, Nancy Astor, the fabulously wealthy, first female to take her seat in Parliament, her husband dies.  And her comment  as she descended from her carriage was, “What’s a widow woman to do with the rest of her life?”

When I watched this, I’d been married for 6 years and had 2 children.  As a housewife/mother I thought about that question then, and now that Pat’s been gone three and half years, it’s been on my mind.

Of course, we widder wimmen do alot. We tend the grandchildren, we volunteer, get paid for doing odd jobs and other things just as we did before we became members of the club no one wants to join.  But something critical is missing and this past month I figured out what it is.

On the way home from watching FREE GUY,  three grandsons and I got into a screaming fight about something incredibly stupid and when I dropped off the last one at his house, he turned and grinned saying, “I wouldn’t fight with you if I didn’t love you.” I managed to back out of the driveway before I burst into tears crying the rest of the way to my house.

I miss the fighting. I miss the wanting to kill someone (knowing I never would) over stupid things. We never fought about politics. We never fought about the kids or money. We had tons of the former and not enough of the latter during the early years. We fought over when to serve the Jello at Christmas, which frame would look better on art, and the location of the sliced ham store in Greensboro. THAT was a whopper. it lasted for 2 days. We managed to feed the girls, get them to school, back home, mow the yard, and visit with my mother all the while screaming and slamming doors.  We needed to get the ham for our friend who was revisiting the south and we wanted a good southern dinner.  We finally pulled ourselves together, got the ham, and sat everyone down to dinner when J announced he’d become an orthodox Jew….

If our fights ended up with someone slamming out the door and walking away, the other would always go and find them. The first time, Pat followed me to The Hague in Norfolk, The last time,  I caught up with him in Willowbrook Park.

I miss everything about my husband.  But this month I realized I miss that small element of Tabasco that made our marriage more palatable.  I would like to know where he stood on the most recent important knock-down-dragout I had with his descendants.; “Video gaming as a legitimate career.”