I'M STILL HERE, HE'S STILL HERE

An Invisible Line

No one tells you this about turning 70: your imagination can become a dark little drama queen. Or that if a friend or contemporary passes away, you may experience a dark tailspin.

I’ve said too many times, “But we’re too young for this to be happening”. But not really, because another friend has passed away.

I can wake up perfectly healthy, get in a workout, eat breakfast, and still spiral into “what if today is the day I drop dead while reaching for the hidden chocolate?”

And it’s not just me I’m crazed about. Add my husband, who’s five years older and still thinks he’s invincible, because he plays in baseball, hardball tournaments several times a year, tends to ignore every ache, like it’s a minor inconvenience. And me? I’m eyeing him all the time, I Google “early signs of everything scary.” I check to see if his left arm hurts when he lifts it.

We’ve been married for 50 years. Fifty. That’s half a century, and we’re still figuring each other out, annoying each other just a bit now and again, and saying “I love you” every single night at his mandated bedtime of 9 p.m. I memorize his shape and his breathing pattern because, well, what if?

We have outlived some friends and acquaintances. People we grew up with, went out with, laughed with, and confided in, people whose names I still keep in my phone. Every loss adds a quiet ache. It makes me hold on tighter, especially to him.

Occasionally, I swear I hear my dad saying, “No one lives forever, dear heart”.

Here’s the strange part. I’m in great health. So is he. We exercise daily, we eat great, most of the time.

But when the sun comes up, Harry is barking for his breakfast, Steve shuffles off to get the morning papers, and I’m reminded that “what if” hasn’t happened. Not yet.

I get up. I live today. You can’t begin to imagine the things I’m consciously grateful for. Hearing aids, glasses, walking sticks, senior discounts, and Amazon Prime.

Yes, there are fewer years ahead of me than behind me. And yes, I worry. But I’m still here. He’s still here. And today is Great!