I am 83 years old. Last week my daughter called me and said,
“Mom, we need to talk about your housing situation.
He knew exactly what it meant. The idea had been floating around for months: a residence, assisted living, “a safer place”. My name is Margarita and I want to tell you what I learned about getting older and needing help. Because the options everyone is talking about are not the only ones… and many times they are not even the best.
If you’re younger, maybe you’re thinking this for your parents.
If you’re my age, you’re probably thinking about yourself.
Learning to live alone after a lifetime of companionship
After Ricardo died, I lived alone for the first time in my life. It was 46 years of marriage… and suddenly, silence.
At first I could do everything: I cooked, cleaned, did my paperwork. He told me that I liked calm. But little by little the changes began:
I would run out of air when climbing stairs.
My hands trembled when I opened jars.
I forgot why I entered a room.
One morning I slipped when I got out of the shower. I didn’t fall, but that night I thought:
see you next page
