Rowe offers her late husband Henry Rowe a seat as he looks up into a clear blue sky, about to make his transition to heaven. Her inclusion of the Playhouse both honors their lives in the home they built together and also foretells how she would transform it into the stage for her artistic renaissance. Although Rowe mourned her husband, she was also relieved to be free from domestic duties. As she told one interviewer quite bluntly, “My husband died in’48 and I ain’t been bothered with marrying or cooking since then—whew, child, I couldn’t stand it.”