Grow old along with me

Had he lived, my husband Sam would have been 75 yesterday. He was born on a Friday the 13th at home on a cold, cold day in Groesback, Texas.

I sometimes wonder about this time every year what it would have been like if we could have grown old together as in the Browning poem: "Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be...."

Would we have been one of those old couples who sit in restaurants like stones never saying words except "Pass the salt." The old man crochety and demanding, the old woman bent and tired.

Or would we have been like some I see at church, loving, soft, looking more like each other as they age--still holding hands and murmuring "Are you comfortable, honey? "Here, let me open the door for you....Take your time sweetie...." Or is that just a Norman Rockwell picture I am remembering?

I obviously will never know--but I do know I miss him as I age more than I did when I was younger. Happy Birthday, Hon.