Just One More Hanger!

He had died, and she could not believe it. Fifty-two years of marriage… and he was gone. It seemed unreal. They had gone for a drive that morning. Nothing exciting. He needed shaving cream and she needed shampoo. They had come back, and he had settled down into his favourite chair to read. She was pottering around the house putting away things when she heard a dull thump. She had peeked into the room and seen his book on the floor. He seemed to have dozed off. She had grinned to herself as she picked it up. “I will tease him about this forever,” she thought gleefully.

That had been the essence of their marriage. Jokes, fun and merciless teasing on both sides. Any slip up by either of them and the jokes would play out for days. Their friends watched in amusement unable to understand this crazy relationship. But it worked for them and they had loved each other dearly. Just that morning he had remembered something she had done years ago. She had mistaken one friend for another when inviting them home and for the longest of time could not understand what had happened. He had laughed uproariously while remembering it. Despite being annoyed at being reminded of her mistake she could not help smiling at his laughter.

It had not been a perfect marriage. They had had their ups and downs. Years of family responsibilities and the problems that went with it had strained relationships from time to time. But somehow their mutual ability to laugh, to find humour in everything helped sweep away the annoyance, bitterness and anger. They always manged to find their way back to each other. It was laughter that had bound them together, had helped them heal, had helped them cope and grow together stronger than ever.

These thoughts had run through her mind as she glanced at him affectionately. But something had caught her eye – a slackness in the mouth, a limpness in the arm that hung by his side. She had shaken him, trying to wake him up. But even as she did, even as she called the doctor and the ambulance, something cold gripped her heart. He had gone. She could not understand it. His hearty laughter still rang in her ears.

The unnatural efficiency of the funeral services took over. She had mechanically gone through all the rituals. He had believed in it although she never had. But not even the thought of his mocking grin that she was going through them so religiously could bring any animation to her face. There were no tears, no anger, nothing. She felt empty… like she had lost a part of her.

She could see the concern on the faces of her friends and family as they had tried to cajole her to talk, to cry, to eat, to do anything. But she had nothing to give. The shock consumed her inside and outside till there was nothing left.  At the worst times in their life, he would find something to laugh about. Some droll remark, some irony that would coax a smile to her face. She needed him now more than ever before. She needed him to make her laugh till she cried so she could begin to heal and become whole again. But he had gone, and she did not know if anything could ever make her laugh again.

It was a few days later. She was going through her chores in the house. Chores she had done every day of her life for as far back as she could remember. Put the newspapers in a stack. Arrange the cushions. Straighten the rugs. Open the windows. Draw the curtains. There was a heap of laundry lying on the table, all pressed and ready to put away.

She mechanically picked up a pair of his jeans and opened his cupboard to hang them up. It was then that she burst into peal after peal of merry laughter. She laughed till her sides ached. Her friend who was staying with her, came running into the room wondering what had happed, but she could only point at the cupboard and break into a fresh fit of laughter. It was a while before she settled down enough to gasp, “There are no more hangers. He needs one more hanger.” With that she was off again – another fit of uncontrollable laughter. Her friend did not understand and shook her head puzzled.

Finally, she sank into a chair exhausted. “Let me explain,” she told her friend. “It is perhaps a little silly and no one else may understand, but it was very important to us. I guess all relationships have that – some seemingly trivial element but it becomes so significant and over the years its importance grows. This is just like that. Years ago, when we had just got married, we had gone shopping for essentials to set up our new home. We did not have too much money then, and carefully thought out our list. We had picked everything we needed and were at the billing counter when I realised I had forgotten to buy hangers. I quickly picked up two dozen and tossed them on the pile. When we came home and unpacked our things, he was horrified at the number of hangers I had bought. ‘Why do we need two dozen hangers?’ he asked me again and again.

“Ever since then he has had a thing about buying hangers. Every time we would argue about it and he would to convince me that he had enough hangers in his cupboard. Some clothes would be in the wash, some would go for mending, and sometimes he would even give some away. He always ensured there were fewer clothes than hangers.

“One day recently, we were arguing about it again and he gave me a deal. He told me that if I ever found that he did not have enough hangers in his cupboard he would buy more and then listen to me for the rest of his life.” She paused as the giggles broke out again.

“Look at the cupboard,” she said. “He needs one more hanger.” And with that the flood gates opened, and she laughed and cried. Cried for the loss of her partner, her friend, her confidant, her lover. And laughed at the joy and humour he had brought to her life.

It was like he had reached out to her from beyond the grave, reached out and given her another little humorous touch in their lives. Given her a chance to laugh, to cry and begin the process of healing.

“I was right,” she said smiling through her tears. “You need just one more hanger.”