I have no intention of seeking love again for several, of what I believe to be, very good reasons. This conclusion, and even conversation, requires brutal, unflinching honesty. At my age, fairy tales do not exist.
I was terrified of getting married at age 24. Picking a husband seemed to be the most important decision of my life, and I was very worried that I would make a bad decision. Then, I met Jim in my first year of law school. He was starting law school after four years in the Army, including one year as the Commander of an artillery unit in Vietnam. He was accustomed to commanding, but I had no intention of being commanded. We had a tough first year of mostly avoiding each other. In the second year of law school, as I learned more about Jim, we became friends and then spouses. For example, when I learned how much Jim loved his family and how proud he was of his successful sisters, two of whom went to Harvard College, I knew he would also support my career and our family. Thankfully, I was right about that. The only time he ever criticized me was when I acted less capable than I was. Jim was a wonderful father. He read Pride and Prejudice to our oldest daughter and taught all of our daughters how to play wolf and deer in the snow. He made those times he used the “p” word (that is, proud) a rare accolade they all cherished. Over fifty years, we taught ourselves how to resolve disagreements constructively and to set common priorities, such as saving money for our daughters’ college educations and avoiding debt for ourselves. We also practiced business law in a firm of 11 lawyers for over 30 years, with each of us having different clients and kinds of expertise. We complemented each other butalso challenged each other, as good law partners should. However, we never battled; we just tried to assess potential solutions for our clients fully. I don’t have another 50 years to build a lasting relationship, and even if I did, I don’t believe I could find a better fit for me.
Jim had Alzheimer’s for over six years, and he died more than five years ago. During these 11 years, I have been determined to learn to be completely independent. When we were married, we shared decision-making. We mutually agreed on the houses we bought, the vacations we took, the clients we took, and the support we gave our daughters. He taught them math, and I taught them grammar and how to write a five-paragraph essay. When Jim announced after a six-hour hip replacement surgery that he could no longer practice law, I suddenly realized that now the decision-making was entirely up to me. At first, I didn’t like it very much because I had to make decisions alone. Especially when I was dissolving our law firm and then trying to spend time with our grandchildren, it seemed like the 24 hours in a day was not enough. After I taught myself, with Jim’s help, to handle his share of decisions, I finally grew to like total independence. Now I can live where I want. I can vacation where I like. I can eat where and when I wish. I can spend money as I wish. I am not willing to sacrifice that independence for a new relationship.
Jim and I worked very hard, especially after our daughters went to college. We usually worked long hours and weekends because we liked being together and being productive. We also saved money so that we would not be a burden on our children when we were no longer spring chickens. I don’t want to risk forsaking that mutual goal. I know pre-nuptial agreements are bulletproof, especially in Texas. However, I don’t want to have to face the challenge of watching a new spouse die or not have the care he needs because I want to reserve my money to take care of me. Even if that potential spouse or partner has money, who can ever know whether it will be enough. In addition, I am too old to waste my time arguing over how to spend money, whether it is for a vacation with my grandchildren or his. Jim and I established 529s for our grandchildren so they can attend whatever university they choose without worrying about debt. If the new partner has not, I don’t want to pay more than 50% of my money for common expenses so he can spend his money on his children or grandchildren. These issues are a cauldron I intend to avoid.
I spent over six years taking care of Jim when he developed Alzheimer’s, over four years in our home, and 22 long months in memory care facilities. I did not mind because I knew he would do the same for me, and we had saved money to make the burden of caregiving easier for each other. However, I simply can’t do it again. My worst fear is that I will lose cognitive ability and my children will decide to take care of me. Unless you have taken care of a loved one with a progressive disease, you cannot possibly realize how emotionally draining and soul-crushing it can be. I also helped my brother take care of my dad when he had Parkinson’s. My brother, who lived in the same metropolitan area as my dad, did the real work, and from a distance in another state, I helped only with the finances, doctors, and paperwork. I saw firsthand the toll that caretaking took on my poor brother, who had two kids in college and his own business to run. If I am in my right mind, I will not let anyone take care of me. I do not want a partner who may feel responsible for taking care of me, and, to be brutally honest I just do not have the emotional and physical stamina to take care of anyone else. By the way, I will be 80 in March. Concern about caregiving is not theoretical.
However, I do want to have a companion to go to a nice dinner with good wine, to attend a Broadway play, and to watch a football game, preferably if the Denver Broncos are playing. Often, I would like to discuss a 907 tough decision with a person I respect. That wish does not require a partner or a spouse. Good friends will suffice, and I am honored to have those.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
