I remember when I was a young kid I thought people in their twenties were like full-fledged grown-ups. When I was a teenager I was certain forty was ancient, and even in my twenties I figured you were knocking on death’s door after 65. I tried not to think about life after fifty as I was certain such a depressing thought would only crush my youthful spirit. I didn’t want to grow old.
I’ll be honest. I still don’t want to get older, but what’s “old” has certainly changed in my book. The way I felt pregnant after age thirty-five certainly seemed old, yet after seeing another baby’s puffy, wrinkled face I felt like the joy of it added twenty years to my life. Regardless I realize that I am aging, and I’m aware that I cannot stop the hands of time.
I found myself recently praying for my spouse, and aside from petitions for his safety I also asked for his good health. As I prayed for the physical body of my husband I was interrupted by thoughts of his own frailty. Our frailty. After all in reality our bodies will only last so long on this earth, and I knew that eventually they would play out. That was life; it was also death.
But as I thought of the very real aging of my spouse I realized I wasn’t done with him yet. Not even close. I need him around for a long time yet, Lord. Keep him healthy for me, please.
I had never looked forward to aging, and the thought of growing into an elderly status with my spouse wasn’t usually on the forefront of my mind. But at that moment I thought, I want to grow old with you.
I had watched with an unexpected tender affection as his thick salt and pepper hair turned more and more salty. I ran my fingers through it adoringly as I gazed at the crinkling crow’s feet that planted more deeply around his eyes after each day. They spoke to me of the intensity with which he looked out for our family, much as the ones around his mouth implied years worth of hearty laughter.
His mid-section had softened over the years, much like my own, but still no place felt quite like home than those moments when I laid my head upon his chest. His muscles had less definition that I remembered at nineteen, but I never felt more safe and secure than I did when I found myself in his strong embrace.
And as I contemplated life without my best partner by my side I knew that was an existence I could not fathom in the least. My desire then was for more years, more time, more of this wonderful life we shared together. More than I wanted it, I knew I needed it. I needed to grow old with him.
I never knew that one day I would look forward fondly with thoughts of aging, but there it was. Somehow a life well lived had shown me that age can’t interfere with greatness. No amount of time, weak bones, or failing eyesight could take away from the joy felt over spending a lifetime with my love.
If I never knew before, I knew then. My heart prayed for him, and as I prayed it spoke the truth of our intertwined souls.
I want to grow old with you.
I can’t imagine not growing old with you.
bvillareal says
Brie, this is a wonderful article! I’ve been married 43 years and AM growing old with my husband and best friend. I can’t imagine it any other way.
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you so much!
Shelly says
Absolutely beautiful!
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you!
Jennifer says
I absolutely love this. I feel the exact same way. I married my best friend and we’ve been together for 10 years now and I pray for MANY more. I want to grow old with my wonderful hubby and I’m so lucky to have him in my life.
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you for commenting.