My guy paused dramatically to give it all some thought and these are the poignant words of wisdom and comfort that he laid upon my heart:
He said-
“Hey, I hear that! You know I was reading recently that in those Viking cultures, oftentimes when a Viking warrior died, they just buried his wife alive in the cave with him. I don’t know what those chics did in there all that time, but I would imagine they starved to death eventually!”
I was quiet and pensive for a moment. Sensing my hesitation he added,
“We would definitely get you some Swedish fish and Milk Duds and Coca-Cola in there to tie you over for awhile…”
He definitely had a quirky sense of humor, but honestly, I don’t think he ever wanted to face life OR death without me. We were one of those couples joined at the hip.
In the early days of our marriage when he worked 90 hours a week, I took care of every aspect of his life that didn’t involve the actual running of a restaurant. I selected his outfit for the day, coordinated his necktie, laid out his underwear, brought him his coffee and ran a bead of toothpaste in a straight line down the bristles of his toothbrush while he was in the shower.
But somewhere along the line, I don’t know, maybe after the 5 kids or after he mellowed a bit, all the tables turned.
Somewhere along the liner, his poor guy became solely responsible for:
- Turning on our tv …. I have no understanding how our remote control works.
- Keeping track of all of our prescriptions, what I’m allergic to, how many migraine pills I had taken and when I could take another.
- He kept gas in my car, air in my tires and something that has to do with oil.
- Almost every night he brought me home a key lime pie, or a slice of chocolate cake, unless I was on a strict diet in which case he only brought a container of sour balls.
- He drew my bath in the morning after he made my coffee, but before he woke me up.
- And kept me supplied in those cheater-reader glasses. He was so proud he never paid for them. He got them from the lost and found at the restaurants.
Saturday night, the night before he was killed I said, “I’m congested, I can’t breathe through my nose.” He said, “if I leave right now I can get to Walgreens before they close.”
When he got home he unpackaged the bottle of Afrin, but the main thing is that he stood there handing me the spray and worrying aloud that maybe he should throw out the ‘childproof cap’ because he didn’t think I’d ever be able to get it open the following week when he was away on business in Kansas City.
I assured him it was fine—don’t worry about it. As usual, He was right. The very next night after they told me what had happened to my Hero, I sobbed and cried until I couldn’t breathe. Of course, I immediately got congested. And when I reached for that bottle of Afrin from the night before, I couldn’t get the lid off.
I guess the good news is that so many have offered to help me, I may start a sign-up sheet for people who want to volunteer to do some of these things.
I recognize a lot of you younger people out there that I know looked up to my husband as a kind’ve [sic] pseudo-father figure. You may not think I know about each and every one of you because of his reserved public persona, but believe me, he would come home and tell me and tell me and tell me about you. I know he was your role model and your mentor. Believe me when I tell you how much joy it brought him as he witnessed you moving along your upward trajectories through our company or even on to other successes. So many of you were constantly checking back in with him later on your progress. Astoundingly, a few of you have written to tell me he actually turned your life around for the better when he fired you!
Each one of you mattered to him more than you’ll ever know. Being a part of your lives meant the world to him.
And to his mother, “Mimi,” I want you to know that sometimes he would look over at something I said or did or just the way that I handled a situation and say, “I married my mother!” But it was always and only when I had behaved in a way that he found particularly beautiful. He always told me you were a “Saint” and the sweetest woman on the face of the earth. I am so so sorry for your pain in losing him. I hope it gives you some measure of comfort to know he loved and cherished all you did for him his entire life.
To our own 5 children, I would say this: if Daddy had any faults it might have been that he took care of us too well… But what a legacy he left behind in y’all. Each of you is beautiful and smart and nice. But like your daddy, you’re so much more than nice. You are good. Partly because you inherited it and partly because you grew up basking in his shadow as he demonstrated everything he considered to be a teachable moment.
And didn’t he just consider everything to be a teachable moment?
So we will link arms and marshal this army forward without our General. But He left us with one heck of a blueprint. And, Who cares if we don’t know how to put air in the tires, you know what? If we can’t figure out how to get the air in, we can just buy new tires, I think they sell new ones that come with air. And if we don’t know how to replicate Dad’s extravagant Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners, we can just order pizzas.
Because I believe what Daddy did leave us is so much more important. Buried deep in your DNA and life experience is a mixture of strength, resiliency and a strong stubborn Cajun survival streak that can never be denied.
One last final thought—my honey and I loved to sing to one another. We loved Classic Rock and the Motown Sound. One of our favorite artists through the years was Gladys Knight. Besides the song that we played in the video last night, (My Life Story) she sings another song we both adored. The only problem is every time he would serenade me with this particular song, I would burst into tears. Cue the floodworks of sobs and tears. Every. single. time.
So much so that I had no choice but to issue a Song Ban forbidding him from singing it. Which honestly he thought was a little hilarious. He would get all high and mighty and say “Tiny Red—you can’t just Willy-Nilly BAN a song!”
But because it upset me so much he finally promised me he would never sing it again.
And I’ll never sing it either….”Because Neither One Of Us Wants To Be The First To Say Goodbye”
Farewell, my love – good-bye…
Editor’s note: The crash is still under investigation but appears to be negligent homicide on the part of the elderly driver of the SUV. Please join us in praying for Leslie and the Blanchard family.