She wondered why herself. She didn’t know. She had never had children with the monster, thank goodness, so she could not use the excuse “it’s for the children.” She often wrestled with her own conscience about whether it was for the money or not, and would justify it by telling herself that she had earned ever dime and should not feel bad about it even if it were true.
Toward the end of his life, he loved to torment her by telling her that she would never be free of him. Every time they fought, he would say, “You will never be free of me. No matter how deep they plant me, I’m going to dig my way out of the ground and haunt you until you are dead.”
Thirty years to the day they married, the abusive husband had a massive coronary and died. Barbara played the role of grieving widow, but she made sure it was a closed-casket funeral.
At the gravesite, as they were shoveling dirt over him, her best friend came up and put her arm around her. She knew the story of the abuse, and had heard him say he’d dig out to haunt Barbara.
She said, “Barbara, I know you don’t really believe he can do that, but doesn’t it make you feel uneasy anyway? He was so evil—if anyone could do it, he could.”
Barbara smiled at her friend and said, “Let the SOB dig. I had them bury him upside down.”