kindmere photo -
Your hear-and-read option:
Listen to Boyd’s story as you read it (below).
"This is not going to work out," Mitzie stated, her tone flat. Across the tear-shaped breakfast bar in Boyd’s condo, she sipped her coffee, a pink-robed figure settled in the beige chair, arms folded.
Boyd felt a familiar clench in his muscles. "What do you mean?" he asked, the words rough. He already suspected the answer.
"I'm moving back to Tennessee," she announced, her brown eyes meeting his briefly before dipping to her cup. When she looked up again, the winter morning’s dim light revealed disappointment and a stubborn conviction.
"Why?"
"Because that’s where I belong. Fifteen years ago, I had to leave. Now, I can handle Mom’s drinking."
Boyd, in his white polo and jeans, leaned back, his gnarled hands steadying his orange juice. This sudden shift was becoming a pattern in their six-month acquaintance. Mitzie had introduced him to serendipity, but her detours were unsettling. He craved a companion with a clear direction, preferably one that aligned with his own quiet aspirations: a solid marriage, good friends, a peaceful home, a secure job. Despite the lasting effects of a childhood accident, his grain procurement director position was his ticket to that future.
Maybe it’s the divorce, Boyd mused, the thought a fleeting distraction. Mitzie seemed like a startled rabbit, bolting back to familiar territory after a brief, unnerving foray into the open.
"You're so placid," she finally said, breaking the silence. "You're so weak."
"What do you mean?" Boyd asked, masking his rejection of her harsh assessment.
"I mean you have no passion …" Her hand left her cup, executing a deliberate flip, a gesture attempting to convey unspoken feelings.
"Passion for what?" Boyd demanded, surprised by her pointed observation of an emotion he hadn’t truly examined.
"Passion for me!" Mitzie blurted. "Passion for what I stand for! What I've been through!" For the first time, Boyd saw a sharp edge in her eyes, a tension in her cheeks, a hint of the assertive nursing supervisor he knew she was. "And you don't make decisions."
"What do you mean, I don't make decisions?" Boyd’s voice rose. "How do you think I got here?"
"Decisions about us!" she retorted, almost a whisper.
"How can I leave my job and go to Tennessee with you?" he repeated their familiar argument. "My career?"
"That's what I mean!" Mitzie exclaimed, gesturing sharply. "No passion! No decision!"
"Mitzie, I need you!" Boyd heard himself say, a buried longing surfacing, a yearning he’d always suppressed as childish. It wasn’t solely about needing Mitzie; it was a grief for his own vulnerability, a self-pity he hadn't acknowledged. He felt a pang of self-reproach, recalling his vow to never admit such dependence.
"See!" Mitzie snapped. "That's what worries me. I don't want to be your crutch."
"I don't want you to be my crutch!" Boyd shot back, disappointed by her apparent misunderstanding of his emotional needs versus dependency. "That's the last thing I would want!"
"I just can't see myself … always moving so slowly … with you and your crutches," she said quietly, her tone impersonal.
"I thought we were past that," Boyd interrupted, flinching.
"No," she said softly. "I don't know what you'll do. Where will you find someone like me around here?"
Now, decades later, Boyd is celebrating 40 years with Shelley, grateful for his escape from that "situationship" with Mitzie. Neither of them had been ready for true commitment.
He’s reminded of Anthon St. Marten’s words: "A 'situationship' is not a relationship. Excuses about limitations and obstacles are just a lack of courage and commitment. Those who truly want to be together find a way to make it happen."
Boyd’s takeaway tip: Seek relationships with those capable of navigating life’s inevitable challenges together.
Here’s to mature-adult living!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “52 Shades of Graying”
Weekly Stories About Aging Well
Accolade: “I resonated with your story!" - Kathleen M.
How to use “My Latest Legacy Nugget” resources to share
your “52 Shades of Graying” comment with a family member or friend.
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - birthday
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - graduation day
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - holiday greeting
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - special day
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - wedding anniversary
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - wedding day
See all past issues of “52 Shades of Graying.”
See all past chats of “52 Shades of Levity.”
Check guidelines for your “52 Shades of Graying” Discussion Group.
Thank you for the happy ending. Mitzie was not ready for a relationship commitment nor was she his "person."
Pam, my wife, and I were married when we were both 41. At that age, our family and friends naturally thought we knew what we were doing. But, looking back, we could have used some marriage counseling like every other “young couple” getting married in 1984 – even though we both knew personally what it was like to live with disability and vulnerability.
These are the questions we could have asked ourselves back then: Is this a resilient relationship? Are we really ready for a lasting commitment? Do we each have the personal qualities to withstand the real, hard difficulties that life often brings – situations we can’t envision while we’re still young and spry?
Now that I’m 81, I keep hearing stories of resilience in other couples. The 90-year-old “life learner” who managed the care of his wife with dementia while she was not able to speak one word to him for seven years. The 65-year-old woman who is working full time as a restaurant receptionist and then going home to care for her husband, who has had a stroke, and her brother, who has a developmental disability.
Making a lasting commitment to another person may boil down to choosing a caring companion who is resilient, who knows commitment and who knows how to communicate on a personal level.
* What have you learned over the years about making lasting commitments to others?