The Between Years

much-for their children as they'd had. Knowing that I'd ultimately had more, not including the chance to live my life, made me feel guilty, and I couldn't shake the nagging feeling. Only a parent who has outlived their child can feel that remorse.

    For the most part, I have packed up my old life and moved on. If anyone in a similar situation can do the same then good for them. Since it's easier said than done, you never truly get over it, and getting the wheels turning is harder than hell. Turning that corner is the hardest, but once you've done it, the sailing is as smooth as it will ever be.

    Except for Randy's father, I still don't hear from his family. That's fine by me. If his aunts and uncles even say hello to me in the grocery store I consider that positive. Because of their animosity, Randy's dad can't invite me to Christmas dinners, but I know he would if that were possible. And I'm never alone anyway. My family has supported me right along, and of course there are my newfound girlfriends if I ever need them.

    Still, I constantly ponder an old question: will I ever have another child? The answer to that has changed like the weather since it was first asked, and it depends on the situation I'm in. At first, the answer was no. Then I reconsidered, but I wasn't ready to have another child as fast as Randy was. Circumstances have influenced me yet again. Since Randy departed, my answer has returned to being an emphatic no.

    To have another child, I would need to meet another partner, but who would fill that role? I think I've already had the partner I was meant to meet. Yes, I've been told that I'm way too young to act like my love life is over. But hey, that wouldn't be the first time someone has told me that my ideas are weird. And they are weird when you compare them to how traditional people operate, but that doesn't mean that the traditional people are right. I'm unashamed of the principles that I live by, because they've kept my life on track if nothing else.

    I've been approached by men from time to time-outside of the singles clubs, of course-who have asked me if I would be interested in having coffee with them. On one occasion, it was a new colleague and another time a student, neither of which would have been professional. But generally these men are educated, charming and certainly handsome, and at a different point in my life, I would have been interested in getting to know them better had I been single. But I know that the drive to do that simply doesn't exist anymore. I politely tell them no, and they respond respectfully, and move on with their business.

    Not that I don't miss all the benefits of being attached to someone. I'm as normal as anyone else, and I miss the intimacy I had with Randy. And it isn't all about sexual intimacy either. I miss those special moments we shared both before and after we were married. Sometimes the simple things in life offer the most pleasure. But giving up sex has been no treat. Chastity has sometimes left me feeling empty and broken, but that is an unfortunate part of the life I now live.

    I don't feel the need to be a crowd-pleaser though. Kenny was not a planned child, and yet he wasn't unplanned either. He was a product of the love that Randy and I shared, not born because our parents expected grandchildren and my siblings expected a nephew. And now, I feel no obligation to try again, because I want to stick by my guns in believing that it is the wrong reason to bring a person into the world.

    Not that I've completely ruled out the possibility of adoption. Certainly I've considered opening my home to a child who needs it (Randy's grandfather was an orphan, after all), but that too is a matter of timing. That and I doubt adoption agencies will look favorably upon a single woman who now has her own studies to juggle and also has a sullied reputation in town.

    But that's okay. I figure it's their loss and I have no intention of changing just to please them. Still, I'm regularly queried about what I want to do with my life. The answer: plenty. When I married, I'd always wanted to finish my Ph. D and take a regular professor job at a university. Randy agreed to remain part time and look after Kenny so I could do that once we had better financial footing. We obviously never made it quite that far. Now that I'm on my own, I've finished the qualifying exams and have begun research for my dissertation.

    The dissertation itself has already kept me up to my