| Words of the Wives |
|
Half the world is female – and women figure prominently in the Bible, though usually from the man’s point of view. But a  new book by daughter and mother Abby and Michelle Guinness lets us hear what some of them might have been thinking. King Solomon was famous for writing the book of Ecclesiastes, and for his wonderful Song, a celebration of love – and for having many wives and concubines. This may have been how one of them reflected on his death… Isn’t it odd how, when somebody dies, you say you’ve lost them? Is it because we don’t know where the person goes when the body’s done with? I’ve lost my husband. He died a few days ago, but actually, I think he was already lost. I didn’ t lose him, because how could you lose something you never had? I was married to a man who swore he’d never loved anyone like he loved me. He insisted my predecessors were nothing. All of the wives, even the lovers, paled in comparison to me. The poetry he spouted, gushed! You’ve never heard anything like it. There were lines that still make my heart melt: “You have ravished my heart with a glance of your eyes.” Beautiful. There were other times I thought he’d lost the plot. My teeth, a flock of sheep? They’re a bit furry in the mornings, but I wouldn’t go as far as to call them woolly. And when have you ever seen sheep in a straight line? “Your nose is like a tower of Lebanon overlooking Damascus.” Thanks very much, I thought; if I didn’t have a complex already, I will now. He was the sexiest man on the planet. Imagine meeting the megastar you’ve had a crush on your whole life, terrified he’ll ignore you, or worse, laugh at you. And then finding your wildest dream has come true – that he’s obsessed with you. And then, even better, you get to marry him because even your father’s delighted by the outcome. And you know you’ve won something priceless. They were blissful weeks as the wedding inched nearer; everything was ecstasy and romance… then the rapturous early days of delight, both lost in a euphoric haze. We never left the bedroom. He was at his peak, just before the midlife crisis that sent him spiralling. But by then, I was only a spectator. He dumped me like a week-old newspaper when the next one came along. I was livid. That I let myself believe I was special. That I thought it would be different with me. So l lived in hot pursuit of pleasure, but none he found would last. He left nothing, and no-one, untried. But he couldn’t sustain the rapture. All the jewels and gems and shiny things, the horses and weapons, the spices and banqueting, the wine and the women, all started to look and taste and feel the same. He was bored. And he was aging. As he sat doling out wisdom, he started asking himself a question. One he struggled to answer. “What’s it all about?” It was like watching a tragedy and wishing it would end to put everyone out of their misery. The most captivating of men turned into a jaded old soul who wasn’t satisfied with anything. He was lost. The wisest and richest man in this world was utterly lost. This morning I found some of his writing on one of his desks. “Enjoy life with the wife you love.” Which one of us was that, then? The last sentence was in his own hand: “The grand conclusion…” Did he know he was dying? “The grand conclusion, when all’s said and done. Give God his due and do what he says. That’s what we’re meant for.” I skimmed back over the pages. The great man had realised a simple truth. There’s a time for everything, and we should enjoy the God-given moment, regardless of the trappings. I could’ve told him that. I don’t suppose he ever thought to ask. I learnt that much when I lost my place beside him. It was a gift. Short-lived. In all his wisdom, he learned too late what he really needed to know. |
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|
