You can end up alone and old in a lot of ways. My way was simply that I had no kids, and I was never able to make a long term relationship work. I honestly didn’t want kids, so when it happened that I didn’t have any, that was OK with me. As for the LTR? I don’t know. That’s a lie. I do know. I didn’t learn the skills when I could have, should have. Instead I learned how to survive in the family I was born into. Ironically, that family did not survive me. So, in my case it’s not just that I don’t have a husband and kids, I don’t have siblings. When you’re in my position and have medical problems, there are systems designed to help you out. Yet, somehow, I feel that I failed. I sense that people — medical people — speak to me of these systems in whispers, though they probably do not. Innocent questions sound like accusations, “Do you have someone to take care of you when you go home?” (“Otherwise you’re a loser.”)
But… It doesn’t matter. Many people are going to survive everyone. My grandmother, in her 90s, told me how hard it was to be the last one among her friends. There were no people left in the world with whom she could share the memories of HER life. She lived with her daughter — an arrangement that was good for both of them — and had lots of contact with grand and great-grandkids, but we had not shared her young days with her. The life we shared with her was OUR lives, not hers.
My little fall and minor rib injury this weekend prompted care from the people around me ❤ and from friends at a distance, one of whom was worried that if something happened to me she couldn’t get to me fast enough to help.
It haunted my sleep. I might live in Heaven, but Heaven is a not place where I can sell my house and make any money. I am going to stay here for the duration. And where would I go? I have a really small income. But in my dreams, I headed north looking for an affordable home closer to friends. I kept trying to wake up, but there was no way that was happening. I thought (in my dream) that I am really old and frail. I thought, “No, I’m not. But I look that way because I have white hair and I’m small. People who haven’t known me longer than five years might think I’ve shrunk.” Still, I acknowledged that my will and spirit are much younger than my body. I thought about attempting to reconcile the two, and saw quickly which has the upper hand. It’s the one with the actual hand (ha ha).
This morning I’ve decided this isn’t worth thinking about. Dusty is older than I am and HE’S not thinking about it. I’d be astonished if he did!
An homage to my dad who did not get to live long enough to deliberate these problems or dream these nightmares, but who was right in giving me the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam as a lesson in what matters in life.