A Fear of Outliving My Husband

This post is tied to my six fears post…

The thought of outliving my husband actually is probably my biggest fear.  I know for a fact that I am not meant to navigate this world alone.  I also know for a fact that there is no other man suitable for me.  Not saying that there are no women good enough or that I am the only woman good enough for my husband.  Simply saying that there is no other man for me.  I’m glad he was my last first kiss.  I’m glad he was the only one to say forever without hesitation.  He was the only one who could look me in the eye and not turn away.  Crazy kid.  He was the ultimate risk taker, taking the chance on me.  I’m glad he did.  I simply could not be here, living without him.  Dramatic as that sounds, and of course, that sounds dramatic, I’m writing it… but it is truth.  Chisel it baby, because I would not be living if he were not here with me.

We’ve all been posed the question, if you were stranded on a deserted island, what would the four things you would take with you?  Well, no matter how I’ve answered that question in the past, I can promise you this:  Beef would be number one on that list.  I can’t even go and get groceries without him.

I once was a girl who wanted a fairytale love story.  I wanted the white horse with the dark rider, who came up to save the day.  The one with the sword drawn, to slay the dragons which imprisoned me.  I imagined him to look like Westley in The Princess Bride, and he would say, “As you wish” to me too.  He would take me away to far off lands and we would see the world together, riding off into the sunset every day.  I also imagined him to be Rhett Butler, he would be strong and bold, courageous and a bit of a scoundrel.  He would be passionate and drive me completely crazy.  I never imagined that he could be these things and John Wayne too!  I could not have dreamed that he would be all the things I ever imagined and all the things I never thought to want for myself!

When I met him at the end of the aisle, I was ready to fly away.  Ready to soar to far off places and start living.  When he left me at the terminal, I wasn’t ready.  I didn’t realize how many pieces my heart would break into.  I had no idea how much I had fallen in love with him.  I wasn’t prepared to say goodbye to someone I’d just started to know.  I held on.  He held on.  We survived.  Back then, notes and letters took weeks to get to each other, and by the time we read the other’s words and wrote back, the news was old.  Phone calls were short, five minutes, after a three hour wait for him.  Five minutes at three o’clock in the morning for me.  I only remember a few conversations.  Life was bearable because I looked forward to him coming home.  Sailing in to rescue me again, from loneliness.  Those broken pieces of my heart?  When he returned, he became the glue that held them all in place.  And that’s how our life was, for fourteen years.  Back and forth, ebb and flow, up and down, in and out.  The military isn’t a life for everyone, but it was the only way I ever knew how to be married.  He’s here, he’s gone.  There’s nothing so predictable as the inconsistency of the Navy schedule.

He made me a mother.  A real mother.  Now, some people may say I was a “mother” before, but I’m pretty sure that kind of mother doesn’t count.  For thirteen years, he stood beside me, knelt with me, prayed with me, cried with me, he yelled, screamed and begged with me.  He fought for these two beautiful children we have.  Both here and in the spiritual realm.  Without his belief and unwavering strength, without his determination to try again, and without his sheer will to not quit, I would have given up and walked away long ago.  Fourteen years ago, in fact.  So not only did he make me a mother (twice, thank you), but he saved our marriage (lost track of how many times he’s done that).

We have this “new” old life together.  Every day’s an adventure.  No longer ebbing or flowing, our world is one constant slow spin.  We work together to achieve everything.  I don’t have to be the one holding it all in place anymore.  I am not in charge, and he won’t admit to it either.  We are equal.  Not that we weren’t always equal, but when only one person resides in the home full time, only one person can do the work.  I’m so grateful that this is not the case for us anymore.  We are in this with both feet.

When we were first married, when we were ten years married, when we were fifteen years married I never understood why.  And still, once in a blue moon; I look at him and wonder why.  I try to imagine what goes through his mind when he looks at me first thing in the morning, before I have brushed my teeth or combed my hair.  I try to figure out what motivates him to overlook my crabby attitude because something didn’t get done the way I wanted in the time frame that I set.  I push around all these possibilities that would make a man love a woman the way he loves me.  I don’t get it.  I can’t believe he tolerates my tears and moods and hormones.  I don’t understand where this deep, deep love comes from.   I can’t imagine loving someone as weird as I am.  But then, I don’t have to.  I get to love the most steady, solid, patient, peaceful person I know.  I get the privilege of wearing the ring of the most perfect man.  The man beyond my dreams!

And without him, I’d be nothing.  I may have pursued the career of my dreams, I may have toured around the world and rubbed elbows with some famous people.  I may have stayed right here in this fishbowl and settled for someone who settled for me.  Who knows?  I know none of that matters now, because I don’t have to imagine what would have been.  There could never be any grass greener than mine.
Because he has chosen to walk beside me, I am able to do all the crazy things I do every day.  I’m able to live and breathe and tie sleds to the hood of my van and scream YOLO as we drive by the nursing home.  I’m able to reach for him when the darkness sets in, and laugh when I’m insecure.  I can face the things that seem impossible with a glimmer of hope.  All because he chooses to kiss me good morning, and holds me at night.  So what’s life without him?  What’s life without the sound of his voice, and the touch of his hand?  What’s life if I’m not able to ask him what he thinks or feels or wants?  What good is this life if he is not here?

I never want to find out, and that is why I’m afraid of outliving my husband.