'Now, I don't want you to overreact when I tell you this, but Sam has a new girlfriend," my husband told me cautiously.

That news made my jaws clamp down like a vise. Our friend Sam has been a widower less than a year and, evidently, has already found someone special. My husband is afraid to share this tidbit with me because this has been a sensitive subject between us for several years now.

Unfortunately, we have lost several close friends over these past few years. Within our circle of friends, it has been the women who were the first to die. And each of these men has found a new mate within 12 months, or less. One found his six weeks later.

What happened to the concept that a wife is a lifelong soul mate?

I freely admit that I become somewhat excitable on this topic — so much so that my husband absolutely dreads telling me that another one of our male friends is remarrying. Whenever that happens, I glare at him and vent, "You'll probably remarry within 15 minutes!" Then, he rolls his eyes and admonishes me with, "Knock it off, Janelle." I get that I'm being absurd here, even, childish, controlling and selfish, but this reality really bugs me.

See, I strongly believe that if my husband were to swap me with someone else before the appropriate grieving period (a time determined by me, of course), it would be a betrayal to the love that we shared during our 36 years of so-called wedded bliss. It's

I recognize that others will not agree with me and admit that I am blessed to have not walked in their shoes. I can honestly say, however, that I do not want my husband to move on so soon after I'm gone. At the very least, show a little discretion.

I categorically do not want another woman living in my house, driving my car and spending my retirement money. How will my daughter feel on her initial visit home struck by the sight of another woman curled up on my sofa, all comfy and cozy? The very thought of my husband making goo-goo eyes at another makes me want to barf.

I have watched men (my father included) whom I have known for years turn into someone I don't recognize. Not only are we expected to embrace and accept their new mate without hesitation, but we are also expected to accept the "new man" our friend has now become. What am I to do with my feelings of resentment when I see our friend spend lavishly, without complaint, on his new wife when all I can remember is how my girlfriend (his recently deceased wife) would complain to me in private how her husband tightly controlled their money? He is a different person with this new wife, and I find that incredibly sad. Have the pictures of his deceased wife been discreetly removed from view and placed in the bottom of a drawer hidden somewhere? Are those memories now forbidden, or are they allowed only in hushed tones? I wonder.

This minefield might very well be behind some of what fuels the inevitable family squabbles over trivial possessions. In their gut, they know full well that that antique dinner plate, with no monetary value whatsoever, will most likely end up in a family it was never intended for and lost to them simply in the exuberance of "newness" in which they are no longer a part of.

It pains me to ponder why it is that it's always the new wife who gets to be the beneficiary of a husband's life's lessons previously taken for granted? Sadly, it has been our experience that these new relationships, more often than not, break the strings binding old ties. Whatever the real reasons behind this reality, the fact remains that our friend's death unexpectedly cost us a lifelong friendship and a closeness the four of us will never share again. Accepting the dynamics of a new relationship takes a bit of doing; we just hadn't healed yet.

I recognize that I might have a few unresolved personal issues and am, perhaps, overly sensitive on this matter, most likely because my father all but abandoned me as a child. After I became an adult, I would discover that he had another family for years. So naturally, I fantasize that my husband will love me forever, whether he wants to or not.

Besides, do you know how many years it took to get my husband to voluntarily dance with me without me pouting first? If my husband finds another and turns into Fred Astaire on the dance floor, I swear I'll come back and haunt him — for a very long time.

Janelle Kimball lives in Lafayette.