Thursday, November 1, 2012
There is no surprise more magical than the surprise of being loved. It is God's finger on man's shoulder. ~ Charles Morgan
But, you know, the years do march on. We're beginning to see more and more of our contemporaries dying. Both my parents are gone and Dear Hubby's dad as well. His mother is in her 80s and getting more frail with each passing year. We're gradually becoming the "older" generation. Now, there's a sobering thought.
Sometimes we talk about what we might do if one of us dies, how we'll handle being alone. Both of us are adamant in saying we wouldn't marry again. I can almost guarantee I wouldn't. I am very solitary by nature and independent and I think I would survive ok. I won't know that for sure until it happens, and I pray it doesn't for a long time. Dear Hubby...well, I'm pretty sure he won't remarry either. As some of the spouses of our friends are dying and we're seeing the survivor trying to get back into the dating game at 50, 60, and even up into their later 70s...it doesn't seem to be too appealing. For one, especially if you've been married a long time, you're so used to the habits, the sounds, the presence of your spouse the idea of adjusting yourself to allow another person into your life seems pretty overwhelming. At least it does to Dear Hubby and me. What if a new guy chews with his mouth open? What if a new lady wears stinky perfume? What if he's addicted to sports and game shows and has the TV on 24/7? What if she's a "Honey Do-lister" and expects Dear Hubby to spend his time on little projects that fill up his weekend? What if her adult kids don't like him? And what if his adult kids don't like her? It happens, more often than not, because this new person in your life is intruding on the children's memories, the spaces inhabited in their lives, of the parent who is gone. And dating! It was hard enough at 16, trying to impress someone of the opposite sex. I can't imagine having to start....all...over...again. From square one. There are plenty of times when Dear Hubby and I go out to dinner and hardly say a word to each other, but it's a comfortable quietness. Same thing here at home when we're reading together and listening to music. We don't have to fill the air with chatter. If we have something to say, we say it. We have both said the idea of going out on a date and having to make conversation is exhausting!
I have had two children and three operations. I have silvery-white hair and wear glasses. I am no longer slender and lanky like I was at 21. I have scars and wrinkles and droops. But am I self-conscious in front of Dear Hubby? Goodness no. He's been here with me every step of the way, and I with him. We don't see the physical changes so much...we see the richness and beauty of the life we've created together, for ourselves and our children and our grandchildren.
I don't want to share that with some interloper, some stranger, who comes along. What Dear Hubby and I have is something rare and precious and I don't see it ever being repeated with someone else.
We both have said we'll get a dog, tho.