Anniversary Cheat

No one has been able to tell me what really happened. As best I know, he ran into the street to stop a neighbor's three-year-old from running in front of a car, and he slipped or something and the car hit him instead. He had a laundry list of injuries; I can't remember them all, but we all knew he wouldn't make it. We had a little time alone together before he died; he actually apologized for leaving me, the dear. His last words – his eyes smiling at me from his poor, mangled face – were:

"Thank you for the best years of my life."

I've never been a particularly reflective person, but I can't help it today. It has been a good life. Did I deserve it? No. But when I would tell Phil how little I deserved him (and he knew the truth of it), all he would do is smile at me and say, "Heaven preserve us all from getting what we deserve."

I've had the love of two wonderful men. One of them, I returned with all my heart. And because I know you're wondering, yes, I was faithful to him. Completely. All right, I did some fairly heavy flirting – one must keep in practice, you know – but always in private, and only with him. As for Matt: if living well is truly the best revenge, his was complete. He was far happier with Mary than he ever could have been with me at my best. And I even came to be happy for him.

Matt and Mary were killed in a car crash about six years ago. I remembered them talking about wishing they could die together, so neither would have to live without the other; I guess their wish was granted. They were so bound up in each other, it somehow seemed right. But it was terrible for Marie. For the only time in her life, Marie was totally devastated. It was horrible to see her so undone. She stayed with Phil and me for months, while Phil Jr.'s family took care of her husband and children. It was the least we could do, after all she had done for us – me, especially. Together, we nursed her back to the calm, capable, loving woman we all admired so much. She got her wish, too: she really did turn out like her mother.

Regrets? Of course I have some; I think everyone does. Do I regret all the sex, or the flirting, or the fun and excitement I had in those early years? Not really. It wasn't the best time in my life – that would be the part with Phil – and I'm not exactly proud of it, but I don't wish it hadn't happened. I guess I regret feeling that I was entitled to have anything I wanted, just because I was young, hot, and smart. It was wrong (as in error, not as in morally objectionable), but it wasn't really my fault: practically everyone in my life was telling me that, including Matt. They all had their own reasons, most selfish, except for Matt. He wanted me to have everything because he loved me, but he still enabled my feelings of entitlement.

My one huge regret is marrying Matt. I never should have done that. I knew then and know now that he loved me, deeply and truly. I liked him, we were great together (especially in bed), and he treated me like a queen, so I figured I loved him. I didn't. I loved what he did for me and gave to me, but the only person I actually loved then was myself. I guess I was an emotional toddler. Like a toddler, I lashed out when I didn't get what I wanted, and poor Matt was right there in the way.

I owe Phil so much. When he refused me that night in his hotel room, I first glimpsed what I was missing, and began to grow up. The battle axe at my old firm pointed me in the right direction. Matt and Mary, and maybe Marie most of all, showed me what I could become. Then Phil came back to me (though neither of us saw it that way at the time), and my grown-up years started for real. And thanks to all of them, but especially Phil, they truly have been the best years of my life.

But now those years, too, are past. I am a widow – what a horrible word! My children and grandchildren love me, and I want to be there for them as long as I can. And of course I'm still family to Marie. But oh, how I already miss MEN! The look of them, the feel of them, the way they look at you, just – all of it. Oh, I guess if I were really desperate, I could bring myself to flirt with some old coot to the point I wouldn't be alone. But after these years of love with Phil, the very idea turns my stomach. So is this – this empty house, this aloneness, this no-man-ness – where the ghosts of my past come to haunt me? Likely enough. So be it, then. I'll still say to anyone: I've had it far better than I deserve.