It is ironic that the article posted above appeared on New York Times website (http://newoldage.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/09/30/gray-gay-and-worried/?emc=eta1) on October 5, because I became 'of oldness' on that day. I turned 48.
I live alone (well except for a spoiled, willful, ill-behaved border collie) in a small house near a big lake, that couldn't be less well suited to age in if it tried. While the place has 6 doors which allow access from the outside, none of them can be reached without going up or down a flight or two of stairs. The bedroom is all the way at the top of the house, the laundry room is all the way at the bottom of the house. I am already telling people that when I renovate the downstairs, I'll turn the bathroom down there into a 'handicap accessible' room. Whenever I tell folks this they are shocked, "But you are so young. Why are you thinking about this stuff now?" Okay, 48 is hardly 'old', but being a single gay man of a certain 'vintage', one is forced to begin to think about this stuff.
My young man and I have recently had conversations on this topic. While we are blessed to be sharing this time together, we each realize that our time together may be limited (for example, he is leaving the Pacific NW soon for graduate school in another state). It was very sweet when he recently offered to make a 'pact'. He wanted to 'commit' to being there for me, despite our likely no longer being romantic partners, if and when I became unable to take care of myself (say when the spoiled, ill-behaved border collie knocks me down the stairs and I break a hip). I don't know how realistic this might be, but it was both sweet and thoughtful of him to want to 'honor' our time together in this way, however long this time might last. I am a very lucky man.
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