I’m trusting God in this new life I didn’t ask for. I’ve always trusted Him. He has taken care of me where man has failed. This world He placed me in is rough, but it is beautiful too. I know He will protect me, even now that my earthly protector is gone.

I miss my Dave so much. I dreamed about him all night. In the dream, I was trying to protect him. It was chaotic, and his Alzheimer’s was in full force.

I tried to explain—he has Alzheimer’s. Please, stop manhandling him.

I realize this dream reminded me why God put me here on this earth—to give birth to my extraordinary children and to take care of Dave. That was my purpose. That was my job. His purpose was to care for the kids and me. He did a good job of it too. We were meant to care and love one another!

Now that job is over. I have to figure out what the meaning of my existence is now.

I rather doubt God wants me to remarry. I’ll never find another Dave.

Dave may not have been perfect—neither was I—but he was the most romantic, cuddly man. He would snuggle me to his chest so deeply, and I miss it. I miss him holding my hand wherever we went. We did everything together. We were joined at the hip.

He was proud to have me as his woman, and he showed it 100% before the disease. He truly loved me. Out of the blue he would start singing to me, or grab me by the waist and we’d slow dance together in the living room.

I will always love him.

Even at the end, he saw me sobbing after he collapsed. The tangles were cutting off his brain signals to his legs—he could no longer walk. But he called me over and pulled me into his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around me as I cried.

I’m crying as I write this. I miss him. I’ll never find another man like Dave.

Dave and I also supported one another in our faith. We both tried to help each other get to heaven. He used to watch my cursing—laughing—and would shake his finger at me when I let loose about something.

We prayed together at night and said the Rosary in the summer out on our swing. I will miss that so much.

While a man doesn’t have to be Catholic, he would have to be willing to live and respect that part of my life. At this stage, I also recognize that many men in their 60s and up are not likely to change their ways.

I also realize that being 65 years old limits my options. The only reason some men would be interested in me at this point is to have someone care for them in old age.

I’ve already been approached. No thanks. I don’t care who it is—Dave wasn’t even dead two weeks. It felt insensitive and cruel. There’s no excuse for that.

I’m not an object to be used.

I have a right to how I feel, and that should be respected. If his friends don’t like it, they can bugger off too.

They are quite lucky I have a forgiving heart.

So what do I do with my life?

I have desires, but I’m limited. I can’t help people with Alzheimer’s anymore—I lived through Alzheimer’s hell.

I am doing my volunteer work at the church again, and I love that. Next school year I’ll be making PB&Js for school kids at the church. I’m willing to sit with terminally ill people until their last breath.

But I want more. I have wanderlust. I want to go overseas and help those who are struggling, to be of use somewhere far from here. I crave a change of environment. I could come home for a bit, then go back again.

But that won’t happen because of commitments here. So for now, I’m waiting to see what God has in store for me. I’m sure it is something good.

I’ve always had faith in Him. He will take care of me. I am blessed. I have my grown children and my dogs. With God’s help, I am willing to walk alone.