If I should outlive Budge, which is always a possibility, I’m going to die alone. This is a tremendous fear that I have that has produced more than one sleepless night lately. My grandmother, who I loved dearly, died with her daughter, my aunt, holding her hand. I sat by my maternal grandfather as he slipped from his coma to eternity.
Unfortunately, I may not have anyone at my bedside when that time comes. Budge and I are an infertile couple. We’ve been married going on 14 years and haven’t even come close to getting pregnant.
It doesn’t help when I read articles in the news about elderly men and women who simply disappear from life until someone, usually someone in charge of getting money, realizes something has gone amiss and the police call on the house or apartment and find a corpse. I read of a 70 year old man in England who lay in bed in his house dead for two years before anyone noticed.
I haven’t done much to be famous for and I don’t have any offspring of my own. I do have a few nephews and a niece, but all save one are by marriage. I haven’t had the opportunity to be much of a part of their lives. I also don’t go out much. I’m not comfortable outside my home. I do have my cats and I suppose it may be my doom to be “the cat man.”
I just don’t want to die alone.
