Geriatric love? Impossible! Falling in love when you are 83 years old? Ridiculous!
But it did happen to me, a totally unexpected blessing. I was a widow, my husband of 47 years had died six years earlier. I was resigned to live the rest of my life alone as many women do.
The Arizona Daily Star you are reading played a role in my good fortune. Maria Parham, editor, now retired, and I were having lunch. She mentioned a man at her church who had lost his wife and seemed lost himself. Maria said we two should be compatible as both of us liked music, reading, cinema, theater. She said, “Let me invite you both to dinner.” I replied, “No, that’s for 40 year olds, give me his email address.”
I sent an email: “I have known Maria for many years and value both her friendship and judgment. She said you loved music and are intelligent, thoughtful and a good conversationalist.” We exchanged information about ourselves and found we liked the same music and books to an amazing degree. He invited me to dinner (which he cooked, a good sign).
Our friendship clicked. We rapidly became romantically attracted. I was a bit hesitant as things were happening too fast. He then wrote me a beautiful poem. That did it. I was smitten.
We then were separated for several weeks. I flew to my daughter’s home to keep an eye on the teenage twins while she and her husband were in Europe. My new love called every day. I overheard my grandson tell his mom, “They talk on the phone for hours every day just like teenagers!”
We have been together almost six years now. One of the most difficult problems was what word to use to describe our relationship. Companion? That’s what we call a dog. Significant other? Other what? Partner? They have those at Goldman Sachs. Cohabiters? Dreadful word.
We settled on “entwined” and I wear a ring made of entwined gold bands. We had a “ceremony of entwinement” for just the two of us. Outdoors looking at the sun’s last rays lighting the Catalina’s we read the commitment vows we wrote to each other and watched the moon rise.
I have two children, two stepsons, four grandchildren, and one great-grandson. He has three children and four grandchildren. None of these live in Arizona so we are “geriatric orphans,” old folks who have to get on a plane to visit family. All the children have accepted our relationship and almost all have met each other.
Our combined ages are 183 years, almost two centuries! We both have medical issues fortunately treated by good doctors with proper medications that help what ails us. We need glasses and hearing aids, and we faithfully pop our prescription pills. We are in reasonable health for our ages. We are both mobile, still drive, and have most of our marbles.
Geriatric love, like longevity, is becoming more common. The population is aging, the health of the elderly is improving, and many more decide to live in senior housing where geriatric singles can meet. There are more elderly women than men, so I am very lucky and know it.
Some geriatric love is found online. A college friend’s husband left her for another woman. Her children and stepchildren were so angry at the husband that they wrote as if they were my friend on a dating site. Whatever they wrote worked and the new couple has been together for over 30 years.
There are several patterns. One couple travels together and sees each other often but does not live together. Another couple alternates whose house they sleep in. And I even know a couple that lives in different continents but sees each other often and collects lots of airline mileage points en route.
We just heard a lecture by neurosurgeon Allen Hamilton on the neuroscience of love. He showed us slides of brains that lit up when people were shown pictures of loved ones during brain imaging. Love depends on several brain neurotransmitters and hormones. Without getting too scientific one of these, oxytocin, not only maintains love but is healthy for us. And we can boost our oxytocin levels by a mere seven long hugs a day. No prescription needed! No age limit!
Speaking of age, at the Star’s retirement party for Maria Parham, she mentioned how gratifying it was to have reporters working for her who met, married, and had children. She next said she had introduced Marilyn and Milt who thought it over carefully but decided not to have any children!
When I was a young adolescent I read a poem by W. B. Yeats called “When You Are Old.” It starts, “When you are old and grey and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book…” Later, “One man loved the pilgrim soul in you and loved the sorrows of your changing face.” I though this was the most romantic poem I had ever read.
My late husband read this to me on our 40th anniversary and I wept. When I told this to my new love he wrote a poem for me containing the lines. “I will revive your pilgrim soul, and love the sorrows in your face.”
Imagine how wonderful it feels to be able to say in the last years of my life that two men loved the pilgrim soul in me.
