The Friend My Partner Can Be With If I Pass Away

home insemination Kit

My partner’s family history is pretty solid—few health issues and strong genes. My side of the family, however, is a bit of a mixed bag; we might be robust fighters, but we’ve dealt with our fair share of health troubles. While my relatives know how to live life fully, they often don’t stick around as long.

I’m not the type who has a bunch of golden girls from Florida living decades longer than their husbands. Thankfully, I won’t have to face a long, lonely widowhood myself—because I’ll be dead. But this brings up a tricky question: what happens to my partner when I’m gone? I want him to find companionship, yet I can’t picture him with anyone else.

The solution, believe it or not, came to us during a stroll through a cemetery. My partner and I enjoy visiting graveyards—possibly a bit morbid, but as writers, we’re drawn to the stories of lives once lived. There’s so much mystery, love, and heartache in those spaces.

Recently, while reflecting over a particularly poignant family plot, I promised my partner that if he ever remarried after I’m gone, I’d haunt him. I distinctly remember saying, “If you get cozy with some widow in capris, I swear I’ll haunt you.” He chuckled but took it to heart, responding, “Oh, I know. I KNOW you will.” It seemed to give him a sense of pride.

Then he went on—bless him—about how he’s never loved anyone but me (which is sweet, but it’s also a bit possessive). He insisted he could never imagine life without me. I appreciated his sentiment, but I knew that if he were to hold hands with another woman, I’d be less than thrilled. After all, what if he suddenly realized that after years of my dry skin, he now had soft hands to hold? The thought made me shudder.

As we continued our walk, we joked about how he might fill his days post me—maybe taking up arts and crafts, or going on river cruises? But then we hit upon a much better idea: let’s pick a friend of mine for him to marry. This way, I’d have some sense of control over my afterlife.

We started running through names. “Oh, her? She’ll drag him out camping all the time.” “What about her? She’ll be working nonstop and turn him into a couch potato.” After a lot of consideration, we settled on a close friend of mine who’s also a favorite of his. She knows us both well, and if she were ever in the same situation, I’d give my blessing for them to team up.

And if I choose to rattle my chains a little, at least she’d be happy to have me around. I can just imagine the headstone: “Here lies Jenna Reed, wife, mother, friend. She haunts out of love.”

If you found this little exploration of love and life beyond death intriguing, check out some of our other posts, like this one on intracervical insemination or learn more about home insemination kits over at Make a Mom. For those curious about pregnancy and fertility options, Hopkins Medicine is an excellent resource.

In summary, the thought of what happens to our partners after we’re gone can be daunting. But with a little humor and a plan, we can find peace in knowing that love may continue in a way that feels right.