Black and White to my Greys

Husband F lived as he died, with a flourish, He was an adventurous, fearless, perennially cheerful person defeated only in the end by his own failing body. He was the most infinitely secure person I ever met - black was black and white was white and this simple verdict made everything blessedly clear; my infinite shades of grey dimmed and brightened with my insecurity but I had a bold partner at my side for 39 years.

We had three children, a boy, a girl and a boy, all within three years. They were born when we had nothing, were struggling to our feet, as young couples do. Husband F was employed by a large building company and took over the running of huge corporate projects in the then burgeoning city of Johannesburg. His management skills were such that he was the one contractor to have made a profit on a central hotel/shopping mall/business block but he worked very hard, leaving home in the early morning, returning after dark. He was capable of harsh decisions and was, I think, both feared and disliked but he was also loved and many gave him unswerving loyalty as his artisans, for years.

When the children were quite small there was talk of being transferred to an Afrikaans town in the middle of the country. I was appalled, could not imagine living there and although we were offered all sorts of sweeteners, the decision was taken by Husband F to go on his own (and stay living where we were), to set up on his own backed by nothing more than investors with faith in his ability and who actually put their assets on line - but they were never needed. It seemed from the word go, he succeeded. I myself was not involved. I took care of hearth and home, Husband F worked and in all those years I knew nothing of business other than it flourished. He kept a distinct line between his job and his family.

Not everything was great. We fought, as couples do, we had great storming fights and long non-speaking unhappy days; but we were raising a pretty good family and the children have grown up embued with fantastic self confidence all, I think, from their father.

At age fifty he sold his company and retired. This was a pretty large pill to swallow - a man about the house at all hours, a very organisational man who scrutinised my activities, my kitchen, my life, with all the energy previously put in to the running of a large and successful company. Changes were made - a driver was engaged for the several and varied errands I had daily to make. Children were ferried to and from school, to and from sporting events, lessons and extra curricular things. Driver H was an infinitely polite and patient middle aged man who took over the long waits and tedium I had previously suffered. He would have had to be patient.

We were now living in a coastal city, in a climate of frangipani trees, bougainvillea and humidity. We had rebuilt and renovated an old sugar farm house around which a suburb had grown but was conveniently near to a charming seaside resort village. The children had been transferred from a sophisticated private school to a local government school a bicycle ride away and I was happy at this rediscovered simplicity; they became children again, climbing trees.

We had to get used to each other, Husband F and I. Eventually the humour of where are you going and when will you be back dawned on me, as well as the inattention paid to my programme so that the question was asked again, with incredulity, as I was leaving. So typical of a man.