BY BONNIE LEE STRUNK

Special to The Press

Although few of us ever are ready for that tragic moment when we lose our beloved partner, with a little planning perhaps we can be better prepared for life on our own afterward.

Many couples feel ready for the future because they have established living wills and detailed estate plans. But that is just a small piece of the whole pie.

I have been widowed twice, and in both cases I learned that I had little knowledge of the matters my husbands so deftly handled.

When my young husband died more than 30 years ago at a local gym, I struggled with day-to-day mysteries that could have been avoided.

A dual-income couple, we had shared decisions and responsibility for finances, investments, pensions and business transactions. We had loosely-defined but equal roles around the house, roles which we should have traded periodically.

But I guess we had assumed we needed little knowledge of the expertise of the other. I excelled at certain things, he at others.

I learned too late we should not expect we will always be here to take care of those countless everyday details for our loved ones.

We need to teach now, to share our knowledge and skills, before it’s too late. Make life easier for those who will remain after we pass from this earth.

For example, label paint cans to indicate which walls they were used on. I must have 20 cans of white paint - brilliant white, manor white, off white, winter white - and have no idea which white goes where.

Learn, or teach what the walls are made of. I once screwed a decorative hook into a wall and created a gaping hole in the plaster because I had no idea an anchor needed to be inserted first.

Three people I know had never written a check until their spouses died. Two eventually learned, with the help of kindly bankers and patient family members. The third chose to pay all bills online and avoid the checkbook.

I recently wanted to check the air in my car’s tires. Although we had a pressure gauge in the glove compartment, I had no experience using it and had to enlist help. I had considered such matters my husband’s job.

And when my car had a flat tire on the road this past summer and I called AAA for help, the woman asked whether I had a spare. I didn’t know! I never saw one.

By the time the tow truck arrived, I had looked at the manual and learned where the spare tire was located. Again, learn, or teach, basic auto care, such as how to open the hood and where to find the spare tire.

A friend who claims she is not good with technology would call upon her husband whenever she ran into a computer glitch. Since he died, my friend has surprised herself by methodically working out computer problems she encounters. She didn’t think she was capable.

I, too, pleasantly surprised myself by repairing a lamp a few months ago. I bought a socket, replaced the old one, and the lamp came back to life. If my husband were still here, I never would have attempted that task.

Another friend needed lessons on operating the lawn mower and weed trimmer. She learned.

Several friends, both male and female, do not cook. Their spouses held that role. Now widowed, these friends have had to learn, and often turn to me for advice and recipes.

Since I love to cook, that was not a problem I experienced when either of my husbands died, except for the oatmeal and the macaroni and cheese.

My young husband always made the oatmeal, a marvelous, old-fashioned delight as soothing as a hug on chilly mornings. I have not been able to duplicate its consistency or its unique taste.

My husband who died last year specialized in delicious homemade mac and cheese, my favorite meal and always my birthday treat.

I’m not sure I want to discover the cooking secrets of my late spouses. Perhaps the oatmeal and the macaroni and cheese were special only because they emanated from love. When I make these dishes, they lack the magic.

These meals, like my dear husbands, were a gift to savor for a while, now best remembered fondly and missed.