Marrying An Older Man Meant Widowhood at 34

By

young widow
A widow reflects on the death of her much older husband.

I admired my future husband from afar for a couple of years before we finally met at a horse show where we were both competitors. He had a great sense of humor, was a terrific horseman and looked like Frank Sinatra. I was hooked.

He was recently divorced and looking. Of course I had been looking at him for a long time already. I was 20 and he was 45. I saw nothing but his smile. Neither the age difference nor the fact that he was two inches shorter than I am made any difference. There was something about him that caught and held my attention. Perhaps it was the way he treated his horses...he talked baby talk to them and I loved it.

Our first date followed that show. We put our horses away in their respective barns then he picked me up for dinner in his Rolls Royce. He was wealthy, but it made no difference to me. He could have been a starving, out-of-work cowboy; I didn't care. It was love at first sight. Within a year we were married and continued our winning ways together. Marrying A Much Older Man Made Me A Better Person

One of our horse trainer friends invited us to dinner one evening. The wife was older than I was but she, too, was many years younger than her husband. After eating, the men talked about horses and training while us girls sat in the kitchen over a cup of tea and talked about being married to men twice our age.

She mentioned that although she loved her husband dearly, he was slowing down and she was still rearing to go. She warned me about what was to come. Aches, pains and illnesses...she didn't paint a pretty picture.

Some years later my husband had a stroke. He was 58. Within the year, I found myself alone, running a ranch without my best friend and confidant. I was only 34. True Love: Caring For My Sick Husband