Waiting for your dead husband

After 11 years of marriage, I got tired one day. I started asking opinions (via Internet).

Are you happily married? Two out of three married persons were unhappily married. Well, we may have to consider the alimony factor; maybe I should omit Americans due to huge alimonies.

My husband (he is a Spaniard) has three maternal aunts. They are all in 80’s and well to do. Naturally, they are getting weak and losing memory and all. One of them, Tia Maria is the godmother of my husband. She is a sweet lady with a sweet tooth, she doesn’t have a child. That’s probably why she has kept her childlike personality all her life.

Last summer, she showed me her summer apartment. There were probably 20 framed photos and nobody in the photo was alive. 20 portraits of dead family and friends. I was impressed. Then she showed me the photo of her dead husband, “And this one. This is my late husband.” I said, “What was his name?” and she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t remember his name.

I waited for her answer for two minutes, without breathing. I didn’t want to offend the poor woman. Then finally, she said, “Oh, now I remember, Francisco.” I didn’t know you could possibly forget your husband’s name while your memory is reasonably OK. Now I know it is possible.

The other day, the family of my brother-in-law saw Tia Maria standing in front of the gate to her apartment complex. They assumed she was just strolling (she loves taking a walk), but she wasn’t. After almost one hour, my husband’s nephew, a sassy university student finally asked her, “Auntie, what are you doing here?” She said, “I’m just waiting for my husband. He should be here any minute.”

Our nephew had a good laugh when he told us the story, but I didn’t. I cried instead. Forty years from now, in front of my gate on the Mediterranean coast, who will I be waiting for? One of my boyfriends I may take in the future? Or my once-estranged husband? I’m afraid I will be waiting for the latter.