Survivor Benefits.

Three retirees discover a new way to live.

Based on a post by Milo_Grigsby. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.

"Jim, you remember my friend Patti right?"

I lowered my morning paper and peered over my reading glasses to look across the breakfast table at Brenda, my wife of 14 years. The Arizona sunrise, shining in through tour kitchen windows.

"The one who lives in Iowa?"

"Idaho."

"That's what I meant. Of course I remember Patti, hun. Is this a senility test?"

"No, I do those in the evenings."

"What?"

"Don't change the subject. Would you mind terribly if Patti came out for a visit? February is rough in the Mountains."

I sighed a little inside. Ever since Brenda and I had retired to Arizona, it wasn't uncommon for friends from colder climates to come for a visit during the winter months. We had a nice sized home with a small guest house, so it wasn't too intrusive. But my cousin from Indiana and his wife had just been with us for a month-long visit and I wanted our privacy back.

"Um; when?"

Brenda sipped her morning coffee and appeared thoughtful. "In a couple of weeks; maybe? Would that be okay?"

Brenda's bright blue eyes had a hopeful look in them and her smile was warm. I had never really been able to refuse that smile or those eyes anything. She knew I would say yes, and so did I. But the game must be played, so I put on a grumpy air, made a show of snapping the paper back up to the sports page and harrumphed a little. "I suppose."

I couldn't see it, but I was pretty sure Brenda was still smiling.

"I'll call her later to work it all out. Thank you, Jim. I love you."

"Umm hmm, that's nice." I said in return. A piece of breakfast roll hit the back of my paper. I chuckled and said, "Love you too hun."

Two weeks later, Brenda and I were driving into Sky Harbor airport, to pick up Patti. It was a picture-perfect February day in the Valley of the Sun, low 70's and the cloudless sky was a bright blue dome from horizon to horizon.

Brenda reached over and squeezed my hand. "Oh I'm so excited to see Patti! It's been too long!"

I glanced over at her. The low afternoon sun was shining off my Brenda's silvered hair, which she was wearing in a very becoming pixie cut these days. It framed her heart shaped face and wide set eyes beautifully, which at the moment, were sparkling with excitement. Brenda was a classic beauty, and at 68 her looks have aged like fine wine. Sure, there were a few wrinkles, but they gave her character. And I loved her and her wrinkles, with every ounce of my being.

Brenda and I met back in Chicago, 16 years earlier; at a support group for people who had lost their spouses. We struck up a casual acquaintanceship, but neither of us was ready for any kind of a relationship at the time. So I was surprised when she called me out of the blue, about a year after we met; and asked if I would like to meet her for dinner.

That first dinner became a weekly thing. We enjoyed each other's company. We had a lot in common and never seemed to run out of conversation. I was normally somewhat taciturn in social situations, but Brenda had a way of drawing me out like no one ever had. Weekend breakfasts at our favorite coffee shops and diners were soon added to the weekly dinners at restaurants, and shortly thereafter we were alternating dinners and evenings at our homes. Naturally, and seemingly inevitably, we found ourselves in bed together and sharing breakfasts the next morning at home. We were married within a year. We had a comfortable and easy marriage. My marriage had been childless. Brenda only had one adult son when we met. We both enjoyed our careers, were financially comfortable, and had our own individual hobbies; and some we shared.

12 years after we married, we wrapped up our careers and left frigid Chicago winters behind, to enjoy our retirement in the Arizona sunshine. And that's where we have been for the last two years. The summers are a little brutal, but it’s worth it, for the warm winter months.

We waited by the baggage claim and Brenda was giddy, watching keenly for Patti’s face to emerge in the crowds coming down the arrivals. Brenda and Patti ran to each other, laughing and hugging each other warmly, when we met her outside of Security.

In her late 60s, Patti has the tan and wiry fit body of the outdoorswoman she always has been, with long dark hair, lightly streaked with silver, that she often wears in a braid, down her back. She and her husband Earl; who had passed away 3 years ago, had been outfitters and guides on the Snake River in Idaho, for many years.

After Brenda and Patti had finished hugging and kissing cheeks, they walked over to me, arm in arm. I held out my hand "Patti, good to see you again."

She took my hand and pulled me into a hug with the strength of someone who had been rowing rafts on a river for decades. "How are you, you old cuddle bear?" she said.

Patti had been at our wedding, and we had visited her and her husband a couple of times in Idaho for rafting. After seeing me shirtless on the river, she tagged me with her own personal nickname for me, "Cuddle Bear." It's not a completely inaccurate description. I'm a little over 6 feet tall, and at present I'm a bit heavier than maybe I should be, at 240. And thanks to some Semitic heritage on my mother's side, I'm what you might call "fuzzy".

"Oh" I grunted. "Hi, Patti." I returned the hug, which involved me bending over a bit to reach Patti's 5 foot 6 inch frame.

We stopped on the way home from the airport, for brunch.

"Oh my god Jim how can you Eat that?" Patti exclaimed as the waitress brought my huevos rancheros with chorizo sausage.

I frowned a little, down at my plate, and then looked up at Patti. "What's wrong with it?"

Brenda responded. "Don't even try Patti. I've been trying to get him to ease up since we got here, but once he discovered southwestern food, there's been no stopping him."

Brenda was probably right. But damn this food is good. So I liberally dosed the whole thing with tapatio hot sauce and dug in, while the two of them ate their more sensible meals.

I ate quietly while the two of them caught up. Over the last several years, their contact had been limited to tracking each other's Facebook and the occasional note or phone call, especially during the last couple years of Earl's battle with cancer and eventual passing. Brenda bragged about her son's achievements and Patti shared pictures of her grandchildren that hadn't been posted on Facebook. Patti had spent the last two years selling off their rafting company to a couple of her senior guides, and wrapping up her affairs with the intent of selling the remote property she and Earl had lived on. Her plan was to move somewhere more sensible. She was wistful about this, and Patti offered the appropriate condolences and words of encouragement.

Our brunch complete, we drove home to the "active living" retirement community Patti and I had bought into. Our home wasn't large or particularly fancy, but it was comfortable and came with the added bonus of the small guest house. bought it with the intention of moving Brenda’s mother in, but sadly she had passed before we could get that done.

Nonetheless Patti gushed over the house. She said it was a palace, compared to the cozy but rustic double-wide manufactured home that she and Earl had lived in. We got her settled in the guest house, and then all decided to take a well-earned siesta, before meeting back up for dinner.

Sedated by the huevos rancheros, I dozed lazily on our bed with Brenda's warmth snuggled up to me, her head on my shoulder. She played with my chest hair under my shirt, dozing herself, but roused me with a startling statement.

"I hope I go before you do." she said softly.

"Huh?"

She sighed. "I don't want to be alone Jim, not at our age. And I don't think I could stand losing another husband."

"Is this about the huevos rancheros?"

She pinched one of my nipples. "Jerk." she said, with a small laugh. "But no, not really. Patti looks and sounds lost, unmoored. I don't think I could live like that."

“So, you want me to go through losing my second spouse, so you don’t have to? Got it!”

I yawned a little.

“Okay, You got me there, Jim,” she chuckled. “But back to Patti; I just feel her empty sadness. She tries hard to move past it.”

"She should go move in with one of her kids, be around her grandchildren. That would perk her up, give her some purpose."

"Maybe." Brenda said. We both yawned and drafted into sleep.

Patti padded into our kitchen in bare feet, through the open sliding door, as Brenda and I were doing some early prep for dinner.

"You do know, you two are living in heaven, right? It's the middle of Februa...