When people reach an age approaching 80, as I have, many will find they are widowed. Not by choice, like a divorce or separation, but because their significant other has passed away. Like me, they may discover there isn't a line of volunteers standing at our door interested in replacing our lost loved one, and we who experienced the loss may be filled with ambivalence, mourning about a loss, and yearning for a new partner. I don't blame the potential new friend for not wanting to be a replacement; yet, for me, for example, how much of my life do I have left to enjoy a new companion if we meet?
I have often reflected on the lands where the people of my heritage lived for centuries. Wars, plagues, and famines decimated populations, and still enough survived to emigrate to the US, where I live. I think of the old adage, "what doesn't kill me makes me stronger." I truly believe the genes I inherited have equipped me with what a survivor needs. When the graves were marked, the smoke had cleared, and my ancestors looked around, they formed new families. A spouse, a child, and so on. Almost all braved crossing the Atlantic Ocean alone at a time when it wasn't as safe as it is today. A cousin visited Ellis Island to find the names of some.
Young and old had the strength and courage to move on. I am ready to move on, though I do not expect to replace anyone in my life with an exact equivalent.
Instead, I seek a woman who is ready to begin a new life with me, as my ancestors did. (image pixabay)