Love As We Age

I drove my partner to the airport in Seattle, a two-hour trip, on Saturday, and was startled at how empty I felt as I drove away from the curb.  He and I have been together for eight years now. Our relationship is by far the best I have had over the course of my adulthood, possibly because of all the mistakes I have made getting here, as well as all that I have learned about my own needs along the way, especially to not be ashamed of them, whatever they may be.  Living together the first year was not easy, as a friend reminded me yesterday.  I am Progressive, white and Jewish, from the suburbs of New Jersey, and he is Native American/Chicano, a lefty who has lived what he believes even more than I.  We live in a very small, earthy-crunchy town surrounded by farmers, many of them red necks, mostly white in both places. There are two tribes nearby, but they are not his  from California, a tribe for whom he has worked tirelessly over the years.  Nevertheless, our basic ‘liking’ of each other, the respect we feel for the ‘person’ we are living with, our shared sensibilities and sense of humor, the importance of tenderness for us both, our sexual life (yes, seniors often have one!) – all of these things contribute to the richness of the relationship we share.  I truly cannot imagine a life without him, which, given our respective ages, is not terrific.  When I think about that possibility, I remind myself to be grateful for the years we have had already and the richness of the intimacy that has grown between us over that time.  Some people, including people I know well, have never shared a relationship that resembles ours in its depth and breadth; I wake up almost every morning thanking the universe for bringing us together and giving us the courage to hang in there in the beginning when it was really not easy.  If I predecease him, I have provisions in my trust for him since we live in a house I own.  And although I am counting the days – two, now – until I drive back down to SeaTac, I am also enjoying my time alone, with no one to feed but myself, and no one else’s clock to consider as I plan each day’s activities.  If I feel like crawling into bed at 7 to read and then watch Jon Stewart, no one will think I’m nuts because no one else is here! Still, I am amazed at the corners of my life he has filled, and how blessed I feel to have found him, and to be growing with him in all the ways we both find important, even at the age of seventy.