A Last Argument About Faith and Finances: Reflections on My Late Husband

In the quiet of life, arguments often come to define the relationships we share with others. My last argument with my now late husband was deeply rooted in the nuances of faith and finance, both of which played pivotal roles in shaping our lives together over 43 years of marriage.

Faith and Its Paradoxes

One evening, in the midst of the terminal stages of my husband's journey with cancer, our home was alive with a stark yet familiar argument. The opponent of this argument was not another person, but our own understanding of faith and belief.

You worship satan. The words were blunt, accusing, and yet they served as a starting point for a discussion that delved deep into the disparities and misunderstandings that often arise between those with different belief systems.

I don't believe in satan. My response was simple and direct, but the rhetoric was over. The first thing satan worshippers say. A retort that was both an accusation and a challenge to believe in a concept that had no foundation in my worldview.

Prove that you don't worship satan. A challenge that I couldn't meet, nor did I wish to. You hate god. The accusation was clear, but it was a line that I refused to cross. I don't believe in god either. A statement that placed us on common ground, yet one that didn't resolve the conflict.

See, you hate god. The logical fallacy was evident, but I couldn't help but feel the weight of the accusation. We then delved into a musing about Zeus, further complicating the already complex conversation. Do you hate Zeus? I believe in Jesus, not Zeus. So, you admit you hate Zeus. No, I don't even believe in Zeus. So, I don't believe in your god which means I hate him. A series of statements that only deepened the divide and remained unresolved.

Now you get it. The argument ended with a proposition, but one that I could not accept. We walked away from each other, both unable to find common ground, but ultimately understanding the fundamental differences that underpinned our beliefs.

Finances and Their Feud

On a fateful day, my husband's health took a severe turn. He was in a critical stage, and we were facing the reality of what lay ahead. Among the delirium and confusion that often accompany terminal illnesses, there was one clear and determined request that made our hearts skip a beat.

No. I have to go to the bank to deposit that 800 check. I need to do this now! Despite the hour and the circumstances, his insistence was unwavering. Tomorrow is soon enough. I argued, but his fervent response was, No, now! It was clear that this check was of great importance to him, despite the fact that it was actually a refund for overpaid condo fees, which we were both making mistakes with during that period.

I tried to reason with him, The check is made out to me. No, it's not. It's ours. This was a point of contention. Let me worry about it. He insisted, I need to get it to the bank. We wheeled him towards the window to show him the deep darkness outside, hoping to convince him to stay and rest. Oh, tomorrow then.

With his passing, we were left to reflect on the strength of our bond, which was forged through arguments and disagreements, yet also through love and understanding. Our last argument was a poignant reminder of our deep connection and the depth of our relationship.

Reflections and Legacy

On his last day, his best friend from Boston came into his room, and he recognized his friend's voice amidst the darkness of impending death. Boston Red Sox were the last words he spoke, a connection that was unbreakable despite our arguments.

Reflecting on these moments, I realize that our arguments, whether about faith or finances, were not attempts at destroying the relationship, but rather an expression of the deep love and respect we had for each other. In the end, it was these arguments that kept us together for 43 years, and we never ran out of stuff to talk about.

Our last conversation was a bittersweet reminder of the bond we shared, and the legacy we left behind.