Lucy, youve gone mad in your golden years! Your grandkids are already heading off to school, and youre talking about a wedding? thats what my sister shouted when I told her I was getting married.
So what do I do? In a week Tom and I are signing the register, and I need to let my sister know. Of course she wont be at the ceremony we live on opposite ends of the country, and at our age were not keen on a big, noisy fête with people yelling bitter! at us. Well just have a quiet signing, just the two of us.
I could have skipped the paperwork altogether, but Tom insists. Hes a gentleman to the bone: he holds the door open, offers his arm when I get out of the car, even helps with my coat. He wont live without an official stamp on the marriage certificate. He told me, What am I, a schoolboy? I need something serious. And to me, Tom really does feel like a schoolboy, even if his hairs turned silver.
At work hes respected, always called by his full name, Tom Fletcher. There hes all business, stern, but when he sees me its like he shaves off forty years. He pulls me into a hug and starts spinning me around in the middle of the street. Im delighted, yet embarrassed. People will stare, theyll laugh, I say. He replies, People? I only see you. When Im with him it truly feels like were the only two people on the planet.
But I still have to fill my sister in. I was scared that Evelyn, like many others, would judge, and I needed her support most of all. I gathered my courage and rang her.
Lucy, she drawled, wideeyed, when she heard I was about to walk down the aisle, just a year ago Victor was buried, and now youve already found a replacement! I knew my news would shock her, but I hadnt expected her anger to be sparked by my late husband.
Evelyn, I remember, I cut in. Who sets these timelines, anyway? Can you give me a number? How long do I have to wait before I can be happy again without people pointing fingers? She thought for a moment.
Well, for decencys sake youd probably need at least five years, she said.
So I should tell Tom, Sorry, come back in five years and Ill be in mourning till then? Evelyn fell silent.
Whats the point? I pressed on. Do you really think five years will stop the gossip? Therell always be nosy folk, but honestly I couldnt care less. Your opinion matters, though if youre adamant Ill scrap the whole wedding plan.
I dont want to be harsh, but get married today if you must! Just know I dont understand you and I cant support this. Youve always been your own person, but I never thought youd outlive your old self. Have a conscience, wait at least another year.
I wasnt ready to give up.
You say wait a year, but what if Tom and I only have a year left to live? I asked, halfjoking.
She snorted. Do what you like. Everyone wants happiness, but youve already lived a long, happy life
I laughed. Evelyn, seriously? You thought Id been happy all these years? I did think so, but now I see I was just a workhorse. I never imagined life could be anything but toil.
Victor was a good man. He and I raised two daughters, and now I have five grandchildren. He always said family was the most important thing, and I never argued. First we worked hard for our own family, then for our childrens families, then for the grandkids. Looking back, it was a nonstop race for security, without even a lunch break.
When our eldest daughter married, we already owned a cottage, but Victor wanted to expand raise livestock for the grandchildren. We rented a hectare, took on the burden of a farm, and hauled it for years. Hed be up at five in the morning, never sleeping in, and we spent most of the year at the cottage, only driving into town for essentials. When a friend called to brag about a seaside holiday or a night at the theatre, Id never even made it to the cinema, let alone a shop.
There were days we went without bread because the animals tied us up. The only thing that kept me going was seeing the kids and grandkids fed. Our older daughter swapped her car for a farm vehicle, the younger one renovated the house so all that hard work wasnt for nothing. One day a former colleague paid a surprise visit and said, Lucy, I almost didnt recognize you. I thought you were out in the fresh air, recharging. You look barely alive! Why torture yourself?
How else? I answered. The kids need help. She retorted, Kids grow up, theyll manage themselves. You should live for yourself. I didnt get what live for yourself meant then, but now I know: sleep when you want, stroll in shops, go to the movies, the pool, the ski slopes. No one suffers. The children are fine, the grandkids never go hungry. Most of all, I learned to see ordinary things through new eyes.
Before, gathering fallen leaves into bags at the cottage felt like a chore, a pile of rubbish. Now the leaves lift my spirits. I kick them around in the park and grin like a child. Ive learned to love rain, not because I have to herd goats into a shed, but because I can watch it from a cosy café window. Ive started noticing how amazing our clouds and sunsets are, how satisfying it is to walk on crisp snow. Ive finally seen how beautiful our town really is, and its all thanks to Tom.
When Victor died, it felt like a dream. He suffered a heart attack and passed before the ambulance arrived. The kids sold the farm and the cottage and shipped me back to the city. The first few days I wandered like a lost soul, not knowing what to do. Id still get up at five, wander the flat, wondering where to go.
Then Tom appeared. I remember our first walk together. He turned out to be a neighbours soninlaw, helping us move things from the cottage. He admitted he hadnt thought much of me at first, but when he saw my tired, bewildered face, he felt sorry. He said hed seen I was still alive and full of spark, just needed a push out of the gloom. He took me to the park, bought icecream, and suggested a stroll to the pond to feed the ducks. Id never taken a minute just to watch them, but theyre hilarious, flinging bread around!
Can you believe you can just stand and watch ducks? I admitted. I never had time to enjoy them, only to feed, clean, and sort their stuff.
Tom smiled, took my hand and said, Hold on, Ill show you a world of wonders. Youll feel reborn. And he was right. Like a child again, I discovered little joys every day, and the old life seemed a distant, heavy dream. I cant even recall the exact moment I realized I needed Toms voice, his laugh, his gentle touch. Now I cant imagine living without that.
My daughters werent thrilled about us. They said I was betraying Victors memory. It hurt, feeling guilty in their eyes. Toms kids, on the other hand, were delighted and said their dad finally looked relaxed. All that was left was to tell my sister, and I kept postponing it.
So whens the wedding? Evelyn asked after our long chat.
This Friday.
Well, what can I say? Happiness and love in old age, she replied briskly, and hung up.
By Friday Tom and I had bought groceries for two, dressed up, flagged down a cab and headed to the register office. As we stepped out of the car, I froze. Right by the entrance were my daughters with their spouses and grandkids, Toms children with their families, and most importantly, Evelyn, clutching a bouquet of white roses, smiling through tears.
Lucy! Did you bring me here on a wing and a prayer? I gasped.
I have to know who Im handing you over to, she laughed.
Turns out, in the days leading up to the wedding everyone had quietly booked a table at a local café and made sure theyd be there.
A few weeks later we celebrated our first anniversary. Tom now feels like a proper part of the family, and Im still in disbelief at how wildly happy I am almost scared Ill burst.
