No hussies in my Michigan house!

This afternoon I spent a few hours with my 90 year-old neighbor, George.  My oldest son had helped him with his yard work and in the process, had weed whacked some of his flowers, so I was helping plant the replacements I had guilted my son into buying.  George and I started chatting and after a while, he invited me in to show me some woodworking he had done for his wife, who passed away in November.  He spoke of her with such affection and fondness, it made my heart melt.  He brought me into his den where all four walls were covered floor to ceiling with photos of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.  As he pointed out each family member and sweetly bragged about each one, I couldn't help but think, "what a wonderful life and legacy."

We went back into the living room where he proceeded to tell me more stories about his bride.  On the fireplace mantle hung a banner that was displayed at their 60th wedding anniversary party in 2013, on the wall above the couch was a picture he had blown up of her - you could see he was part of the photo too, but he had cropped out most of himself to accommodate the 8 x 10 frame it was in.  He showed me their wedding pictures, photos of the day they first met, and pictures of them later in life.  He told me about their life together; how they met, things they did throughout the years as a couple, and he seemed almost proud of the fact that how, even when she became sick with Alzheimer's Disease, she still knew who he was.  I was in awe of the care he gave her when she became ill and marveled at his obvious love for her still.  He then held up a carving he was making of her; pointed out the areas that he was still working on and how he estimated he was half done, after putting in about a hundred hours on it.  Then he started to cry and with his hushed voice said, "I miss her so much."  And I lost it.  I felt like such an ass for doing so.  Unfortunately, nobody cries alone in my presence, even if I have no reason/business crying.  I tried so hard to hide it and was secretly wishing it was his eyesight that was bad, not his hearing, as I wiped away tears.  I'm crying again as I write this.

I've been reflecting on this all evening.  How does one go on after losing someone you've spent a lifetime being in love with and devoted to?  I know it's done, I've seen my and KC's grandmothers do it.  I just don't know how they have done it.  I know "it's better to have loved and lost... blah blah" but holy hell, I gotta tell ya, I'm kinda wishing I didn't like the guy I'm married to so much.  KC, if you're reading this (and you better be! lol) - I want to go first.  I know I'm younger <snicker> and women live longer, so you better take care of yourself: exercise, eat right, and keep that blood pressure down.  I plan on living a long life so you better plan on living even longer.

But you still can't bring a new wife to our Michigan house, no matter how long I live or don't live.  I will haunt you if you do.