82

Today is the 82nd month that my lovely wife and I have been married, and since Blogger is finally acting properly, I can now step up and let my wonderful, kind, sexy, smart, and infinitely patient wife that I'm lucky to have found her. I know this might come out wrong, but with all the work we have done behind-the-scenes in regard to our wills and life insurance, I got a little more mature and childish at the same time with both roads leading to a newfound love for my one and only. When you write a will and set up a life insurance policy, it's a step where you say, "That's it. I'm ready to die. My spouse will be taken care of. That's all that matters." After my wife did her will, I dropped into a fear state, imagining her gone and me puttering around in my house living half of a life. After my funk, I went through a small renaissance, understanding how much I love her, how much she changed my life. It's strange that with six billion people roaming around how just one can affect you so deeply.

We are both in our early 30s, and barring something catastrophic, we'll be alive for a long time. We won't need to worry about who has to bury whom, and what to do with all the belongings that no longer have an owner. We can go about our modern lives, being who we are and enjoying ourselves, eventually retreating back along that dissonant line of thinking we will be around forever and all major worries are in some gray distant horizon. For me, there came a definite liberation when I signed my will. I don't need to worry. Everything will be taken care of. I kept it modest; I don't think I could legally get Radiohead to play at my memorial service if I just wrote it in the document. But the cats will have owners if we both die. My wife's jewelry will find a home. A couple of charities will be getting post-mortem donations. Writing a will gives you a feeling that you can still be a force for good, even if you aren't around. I reckon I'm rationalizing, but it makes death seem not that bad.

A bit of trivia: Microsoft Word for Mac has a Will template.

So, today my wife and I will have our little monthly celebration, rest assured that we're a little older and far too responsible, but we are still, always, immutably, in love.

I love you. Happy 82 months.