This week, Maria was invited to a special Yoga night later this year: a beautiful gathering outside at night, in the woods, for an hour or so in late Fall. Yoga is important to Maria, and she is eager to go. When I heard this, I said it sounded great (I’m doing Yoga now and also loving it), and perhaps I could come along.

Maria, gracious as ever, said that sounded like a nice idea; I should talk to the teacher about it. If it was okay with her, she said.

Something in her voice brought me up. The yoga class is her thing, not mine. I imagine getting a chair out for me under the stars, and I imagined it would be distracting for her to be worried about me – was I cold? Comfortable? Getting tired? Was the chair uncomfortable? Did I want to go home? Did I have diabetes medicine on hand in case I needed it? Would the ground be rough and difficult for me to walk in the special brace I wore on my wooden leg?

Going out isn’t as simple for me as it once was.

It’s a place of thought and meditation for her. I could spoil it without even thinking.

I said no almost right away, thanks for thinking about it, but I didn’t want to go. It was invasive in some way, an intrusion on a night when my exercise and meditation would be special. She seemed relieved, even though she didn’t say so.

I needed to respect her own space in her life apart from me, as our space together was changing and would keep changing. I can’t and shouldn’t go everywhere she goes, and don’t wish to. And I do not want her to give up the places she goes and the things she does because I can’t go.

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Tomorrow she is going off with a friend in the morning to see a sculpture exhibit.

Once a week, she has lunch with a close friend; the lunches are important to both of them, and something men rarely, if ever, do. I never mind her going places without me; it makes me feel good about getting older. I want her to keep her own freedom, her own work, her own life. Old age can threaten that. I hear it all the time.

I don’t ever want her to feel guilty about living her own life.

All these years, we have done almost everthing together. Now, we do most things together, as long as I can.  We have a lot of fun. But it’s different. Our love hasn’t changed, and love, for me, is loving someone other than myself. I don’t want to intrude on her independence; I won’t let her become consumed by caretaking should it come to that.

Maria and I have a great marriage, something I am grateful for and never imagined. We have worked hard on it through some tough times.

I know that a great marriage is never taken for granted, but worked on again and again. This week I had to make another one of those big decisions facing older people, decisions that have to be made while there is time.

I’m older than Maria, and I have always known that when I really grew old, I would have to work hard to make sure I consumed much of her life so that when the time came, I might need help. It’s a big issue for me; I see the lives of so many women swallowed up and confined when their husbands got sick or became more helpless.

But the time has come to make these decisions and talk about them.

I’ve raised the issue a dozen times; we talked about it, thought about it, and I am even planning for it. I want Maria to keep her life, art, friendships, and independence intact, even though she loves and cares for me and is always there when I need her.

I’m not uncomfortable being alone; I like it and need it, and I don’t want her to ever be uncomfortable leaving me alone.

Boundaries matter, even in the best of relationships.

I had a flash of sadness, then some relief.  The Yoga evening sounded nice. Aging requires acceptance and sacrifice, even as others sacrifice to care for me.

I need to make this clear while I am still active, healthy, and able to care for myself.

But I do often need help, even now. I’ve given up driving, I’ve given up resuscitation, I’m determined to prepare for what’s to come, and one thing I plan to never permit is for Maria to give up the life she has worked so hard for and loves so much.

We have always supported one another; that will never change.

My good fortune is that we love each other very much, more all of the time, as it happens.

I intend to keep it that way, and I’m not leaving that to the Gods or putting it off to the great tomorrow.

No yoga night class for me.