The Devoted Wife
The couple were greatly devoted to each other. They had been married for quite a long time but had not been blessed with any children. They had moved into our neighbourhood twenty something years ago. When Peter and I took our walks, we would sometimes pass their house. We nodded politely to each other if we happened to see them. As time went by, we occasionally stopped on the street for a friendly chat. I once invited her over for tea and once she invited me for coffee. We still sometimes stopped in the street for a little natter.
About fifteen years ago her husband fell seriously ill. She took care of him at home. It was easy for her at first, but as time went by, it became more difficult to do so. He would apologize for all the difficulties. She reassured that it was no problem for she loved him so. He kept telling her to put him in a home where others would be able to care of him. She stubbornly refused. One day she almost dropped him as she attempted to pick him up. That was the day she relented and admitted to herself she was no longer capable of taking care of him. Tears ran down both their cheeks the day he was moved to the home. She did not drive, yet early each morning, she would walk down to the main street to catch a bus because she wanted to be with him for breakfast. It did not matter what the weather conditions was, she would still catch the bus. Sometimes Peter would see her walking as he went to his office. He would drive her to her destination. After her husband had his breakfast, she would hurry back home to cook his two next meals, for she did not like him to eat institutional meals. He was used to her food.
When his pain was unbearable and he felt a lack of control over his own body and self, he would rant and rage. “Why don’t you let me die? Of what use is the meaning of this existence?” She would gently calm him down, yet she would be shaking inside. She yearned to cry. She wanted to fight against the unjustness of their circumstances. But who was she going to fight against? The disease was all powerful. It had ravaged her husband and their once happy, healthy and peaceful existence. When she entered her empty and lonely house, she would sob, “Why? Why? Why? Why God, why?” Her cries would reverberate in that lonely empty sad house, but there was no one to answer her cries of despair; no one to comfort her.
At other times he would accuse her of having an affair. “Look at you. You are all dressed up! Are you meeting another man after you leave here.?” he would accuse her angrily. She would only smile and say,
“Don’t you know you are the only man I ever loved? You are the man I dress up for. After all these years you think I am going to look for someone else? I love you. Don’t you know that?’’
At home she tried to cope as best she could with repairs of the house. It was he who used to take care of such things before. Now she had to manage all by herself. Snow was one of her most annoying problems. She would hire people to shovel the snow from the sidewalk. She has a corner house. As soon as they were done, along would come the city snowplows and push the snow right back onto her sidewalk. They were followed by the unscrupulous city inspectors who would issue a hefty summons! It is as if they knew she was a woman struggling and all alone. She is a slight person in her mid seventies. Her husband had been an invalid for the past fifteen or so years. She had never had a career. The only thing she had ever done, was be a wife and homemaker. She never worked outside her home. She had a modest income. She saw no reason to pay that fine and she was right. The city was being greedy. Now, on top of everything else, she had to make the rounds of the government offices in an effort to have the charges dismissed!
Time went on. I did not see her in quite a while. This whole past summer they had dug up our street. We were enveloped in noise and dust all the time. They had made holes in our sidewalks and holes in the middle of the street. They stored their equipment and their other tools on the road. Venturing onto our street had become somewhat of a challenge. All summer I had been confined indoors due to that. I hardly ventured out of the house alone. I am sorely afraid of a fall. I had too many of those. But at last we were told that end is near. They have removed most of the heavy machinery and barriers and all the cones. I was looking forward to sitting out on the porch. Today, I was finally able to do so! It was early in the morning. As I sipped my tea and enjoyed the quiet, I happened to glance up. There she was, that valiant soul, walking down the street, hurrying to catch her bus. She wanted to be with her husband as he had his breakfast. Everyday, day in, day out, year after year, she did the same thing. If that is not devotion, if that is not love, then I do not know what it is called. Sometimes I wonder how different things would have been for them if they had children, if they had family living nearby. What if he had not become ill? How different would their lives have been?
There is an Arabic saying, it goes something like this, “They planted ‘if,’ but ‘if’ would not grow.” If, if, if… What if, if could have grown. What then? What kind of life would they have had?