The little old lady in the bread aisle

This month King and I will celebrate our 39th wedding anniversary. Yes, it is a long time. We've been married longer than most of my co-workers have been on earth.

Thirty-nine years. Wow. And what do I think about the accomplishment? That's 39 years of trying to come up with meals. King does not cook. I was amazed the other day when he made himself a fried bologna sandwich with a fried egg. (Ok, he's not good at healthy choices, but the point is -- he cooked).

Mom and Dad were married 66 years when Dad passed away. That's 66 years of cooking and meal planning. Dad did not cook. Not even a fried bologna sandwich. If Dad wanted a dish of ice cream, Mom got it for him. If Dad wanted a lemonade, Mom jumped up and poured him a glass . . . with ice.

And no, Dad was not demanding. He did not insist. But they were of the generation where cooking and cleaning was Mom's job. That is what a housewife did. Mom laid out his clothes every morning. She cooked all their meals. She made the bed. She cleaned the house. She paid the bills. She balanced the checkbook.

After Dad retired they started doing more things together. Dad helped with the dishes. He helped make the bed. They even shopped together. There were times when Mom commented on the fact she would like to do some things by herself. But I don't believe she EVER told Dad that. She would never have wanted to hurt his feelings.

As they got older and Mom started having memory problems, their shopping together became somewhat of a chore. Mom had a very difficult time making decisions. Looking back, we should have seen the signs, but we didn't.

Dad liked raisin toast for breakfast. Mom would stand in the bread aisle and contemplate the type of bread to purchase. While she was agonizing over bread, Dad would become impatient and march down the aisle ready to move on to the next item on their list. Mom would get angry at his leaving her behind and march behind him and tell him he should wait for her. Dad would look irritated, shake his head, and continue on to the soup aisle where the process would start over again.

Mom, being deaf, would kind of be in her own little world. She would do her contemplating in the middle of the aisle. People would become irritated at the little old lady standing in the middle of the aisle and huff around her. Mom had no idea. Dad could see this and it bothered him that she was so oblivious . . . it was an exhausting, vicious circle.

After being married 39 years there are plenty of things King does that makes me crazy. Not being perfect (although King claims I think I am perfect) I am sure there are things I do that drive him insane. I can only imagine what it will be like after 66 years.

But oh, how Mom and Dad loved each other. On what was to be our last trip to the Golden Brown Bakery in South Haven before Dad died, we sat in the dining room and had our coffee and pastries. Mom and Dad used to bring our children there for a treat when the kids were small. We talked about those visits and the things small children do that endear themselves forever into the hearts of grandparents. On our way out I stopped and purchased some pastries for King and our granddaughter. Mom and Dad continued out the door -- holding hands. The cashier looked at me, tears in her eyes.

"Sixty-six years the end of this summer. We should all be so lucky," was all I said.