I had 39 and one half years with my best friend, my husband.
I did like one older lady told me when I said I was getting married, and
read the book on it she gave me several times. Like the book suggested. I treated him like a dog. There was even a movie about it, called "When A Man
Answers".
Don't get me wrong, think about it. Husbands by the thousand go
missing every year, some are drug back, and lots of them are never found. Dogs get lost, and they come home on bleeding paws, grateful for home and a loving family.
When we call a dog, we praise him when he comes. When lots of us call
our husbands, all we can say is "Dammit, Harry, didn't you hear me calling?"
We worry about the dog's health, we walk him for exercise, we constantly
tell him he is marvelous. All the while, some husbands are sitting at the TV,
knowing he is ignored and only talked at when someone wants something.
So, like the family dog, I met him at the front door when he came home from
work, with a kiss, the evening paper, a big tall glass of ice tea, and some time
by himself. (I'll admit that lots of times I went and fried up a piece of bacon to make him think dinner was on its way, so I could have time to stare into the freezer and figure out what to fix!!!!
But always, he was the rock that held together the family, and even though
he's been gone three long years, I'll miss him always. We may not have had
riches, but we had kids, dogs, cats, music and books all through our home.
Our kids grew up with all of this, and even now tell me what marvelous memories they have of growing up.