My Husband Left Me at 54

I spent so much of my life putting my family first that I forgot who I was outside of caring for everyone else. Looking back now, I can see the signs were there long before everything I thought I knew came apart.

Despite being all the way in the living room, I could smell the faint starch of Howard’s shirts, already pressed and lined up in the closet down the hall. I sat on the couch in the soft gray light before sunrise, rubbing lotion into my hands, which never seemed to stay soft anymore.

I was 56 years old and knew the layout of my house better than my own face.

I poured a second cup of coffee, which I wouldn’t finish.

I could smell the faint starch.

By 7:15 a.m., I’d packed my husband Howard’s lunch, signed a birthday card for someone at the dental office where I worked full-time, and texted our son, Steve, back about helping him during his slow month at the shop.

« Mom, you’re a lifesaver, » he wrote. « Can you cover the gas bill until the 30th? »

« Of course, honey, » I typed without thinking.

The next thing I did was call my daughter, Monica. Her voice came through the speaker, breezy and rushed.

« Hey, can Biscuit stay with you again? Just four nights while I’m traveling. »

« Mom, you’re a lifesaver. »