His Last Question, My Lifelong Answer

November 17, 2025November 16, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

11 years, 2 months, 15 days.
That’s how long we had.

We met. We fell in love. We eloped. We knew 50 years was a lofty goal — he was 38, I was 41 — but we were determined to “go the distance,” as he always said.

Heather and her late husband Steve stand close together in a softly lit church, smiling warmly at the camera. Heather is holding their marriage license, and Steve has one hand resting gently on her shoulder and the other on her arm. Both look happy and proud, captured on a meaningful, joyful day. — *The day I became his Mrs. 11/17/2011*

We didn’t know the distance would be so short.
11 years, 2 months, 15 days — from I do on November 11, 2011 to goodbye on February 1, 2023, when he took his last breath on earth and his first breath in Heaven.

And for the record?
Cancer sucks.

I can measure the time we were married.
What I can’t measure are the things grief refuses to quantify:

The number of tears I’ve cried
The number of times I’ve heard, “I’m so sorry”
The number of times I’ve said, “Pawpaw would be so proud of you”
The number of times I’ve thought, “Oh, I need to ask Steve—” before remembering
The number of times I’ve wished he could walk the dogs with me
The number of times I’ve felt the emptiness where his touch should be
The number of times our kids could’ve used his guidance
The number of times I’ve pulled out his half-empty bottle of aftershave just to breathe him in

The list could go on for… well, forever.

I’ll never forget the question he asked on our 11th anniversary — the one we both knew would be our last. He felt well enough for a short dinner out, but the outing took everything out of him. That night, sitting beside him on the bed, holding his hand, he looked at me and asked:

“If you knew 11 years ago how this would end, would you still have married me?”

That question hits differently when you’ve lived inside cancer hell. Our marriage took “in sickness and in health” to a level I wouldn’t wish on a single soul. Why would anyone knowingly choose a marriage of just 11 years when it meant walking through a storm like that?

Because… love.

Like I told him that night, the honor of loving him for 11 years was worth more than the idea of never loving him at all. It wasn’t a comforting line for a dying man — it was the truth.

For every heartbreak, we had a hundred memories wrapped in laughter. We loved each other fiercely.

‘Til death do us part.

Steve kissing Heather on their 11th anniversary. — Our final anniversary together – 11/17/2022

Dating After Dignity · Menopause & Mischief · Red Flags & Walking Punchlines

Midweek Malarkey: Tony and the Tub Time Twist

November 12, 2025January 5, 2026 Heather KightLeave a comment

Square graphic for Menopause & Malarkey’s “Midweek Malarkey: The Blooper Reel of Modern Romance.” Coral and cream text on a charcoal background with playful design accents and tagline, “Because every near-miss deserves a laugh.”

It’s kinda sad that all I had to do was open Match and start scrolling.

Today’s “Ah, man, I was rooting for you!” award goes to Tony, age 50.

Initial reaction:

Photos? ✔️

Location? ✔️

Complete bio? ✔️

Compatible? ✔️

My thumb was about to swipe Tony into the digital land of possibility when I read it.

The prompt:

“For me, a good day isn’t complete without …”

The answer:

“My dog and a hot bath.”

Now, perhaps he meant to type, “spending time with my dog — I also like to relax later on with a hot bath.”

Perhaps.

But all I can picture is a sturdy, six-foot gentleman surrounded by bubbles, sipping a glass of wine, and locking eyes with his faithful pup across the tub. In complete, candlelit silence.

Don’t you dare deny it — you pictured it too.

Playful cartoon illustration in coral, cream, and charcoal colors for Menopause & Malarkey. A bald man with a goatee relaxes in a large bubble bath, holding a glass of wine, while his dog sits across from him in the tub surrounded by bubbles and a rubber duck. Caption reads, “For me, a good day isn’t complete without… my dog and a hot bath.”

And somewhere in that sudsy, surreal moment, my finger found its way back to safety. Swipe left, my friends. Swipe left.

Because in the dating world, there’s clean … and then there’s too clean. 🛁🐾

Dating After Dignity · Menopause & Mischief · Red Flags & Walking Punchlines · The Front Porch Swing

🎉500!

November 8, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

Menopause & Malarkey just hit 500 views! That’s 500 shared laughs, sighs, and side-eyes from women who get it. Thank you for reading, sharing, and swiping along this wild ride with me. Here’s to the next 500 —and the next round of red flags, revelations, and ridiculousness.

Dating After Dignity

Life Before

November 4, 2025November 4, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

Every now and then, this page pauses the laughter long enough to remember why humor matters. Because sometimes joy and sorrow hold hands — and that’s where healing hides.

I’ve been sitting here trying to come up with a clever title for this post.
Grief Is Weird.
Birthdays and Goodbyes.
Life Before…

Before what, exactly?
(Insert exasperated sigh from your brilliant — but tired — blogger.)

To put it bluntly: life before Steve died.

In 2020 — because of course it was the year the world shut down — my husband, Steve, was diagnosed with bladder cancer. That alone is devastating enough. Pair cancer with the pandemic restrictions that determined whether a wife could accompany her terrified husband to doctor appointments or visit him after surgeries, and that devastation becomes insurmountable.

That was our reality from his first ER visit in the early hours of April 24, 2020 — my 50th birthday — until his last breath on February 1, 2023.
To sum up those 1,013 days in one word: exhausting.
Emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually exhausting.

I’m not here tonight to share those details — not yet.

Today is Steve’s 52nd birthday. It’s one of those “dates to anticipate” when you’re grieving — birthdays, holidays, anniversaries — any occasion that calls for extra celebration. The strange thing about grief, though, is that those dates don’t always hit when you expect them to. But catch me on a random Tuesday, focused on work with zero apparent triggers, and I’m in the restroom blowing my nose and willing myself to pull it together.

Grief is weird.

When I mentioned to friends and colleagues that today is Steve’s birthday, most offered sympathetic nods and kind words. For the first time since life before, I found myself saying, “No, it’s okay — I’m good.”
And I meant it.

It’s not that I don’t miss him. We were married eleven short years, and there was never a doubt we would, as Steve liked to say, go the distance. It wasn’t the first marriage for either of us, but it was the one we finally got right.

I don’t believe we fell in love a little too late.
I believe we fell in love just in time.

Three years ago today, we celebrated his final birthday here on earth. He had just started in-home hospice care — no longer undergoing treatment — but at that point, he felt tired, yet good. We were closing in on goodbye, but we weren’t there yet.

I no longer feel guilty if I don’t cry on his birthday, or Christmas, or our anniversary.
Not because he wouldn’t want me to.
Not because I’ve stopped caring.
Not because I don’t miss him.

The love Steve and I shared built a foundation strong enough to keep carrying me. Our relationship was anchored in faith, grace, laughter, and the choice to love each other every day.

Today, I celebrate Steve’s birthday knowing he’s celebrating with Jesus.
I smile when I picture his giant personality and that contagious grin.

Happy birthday, my love.
My life is sweeter because you loved me,
and Heaven is sweeter because you’re there.

💛 To anyone missing someone today: may your memories feel softer than your grief, and may you find a smile tucked somewhere inside the ache.