Life support

Luther got some life insurance recently. I'd been bugging him about it. I worry that if some accident were to suddenly take him from me, I'd have to give up all of the plans we have together, and I'd have to run back to the safety net of Toronto, instead of pursuing what I think of as our dreams, if that makes sense. So I want some insurance, that I would be able to stay here (well, not here, per se) and do at least a few of the things that we would have done together.

But there's a reality, too, that I never did plan for a retirement or even a future before meeting him. And now that I can envision a future and have some expectation about it, I want to take what Luther can give me: Some security. With both of us here, his retirement is hugely important. If I lost him, on top of the wrenching grief, there would be the reality that I'd have just my lame-assed income. So that, too, is a part of why I asked that he get some life insurance.

Speaking of reality, however... the day he set something up, I got home from work, and there I was sitting on the couch when he reassured me by explaining what he'd done and what the particulars of the plan would be. And tears started slipping down my cheeks. And finally I asked that he stop explaining.

As a financial plan, life insurance is a good idea. It's a very wise idea in our particular case with our particular risks and needs. As a reality, it's hard to even think about. I know I have to know. But I don't want to know. I am not losing Luther. What is the point of having a money cushion, if I can't snuggle against it with my Luther in my arms?