Widows and Orphans

I became an orphan at age 69. The power of the word orphan is so dependent on context. If I had been orphaned as a toddler, the word would vividly define me and would drip with sadness. Instead, for me at an advanced age, the term orphan is an unnoticed technicality. Some words cover more ground than others. If my wife had been widowed at age thirty three, her status as a widow with three children age five and under would have evoked intense emotions. If I make her a widow at age 72, the sadness will be muted with mellowness. My long life also diminishes how I am remembered. An untimely demise in my thirties would have frozen my youthful good looks and my faults would be lost in generous recollections. Luckily, I am very competitive and intend to outlive my wife and spare her the hassle of learning how to be a widow. Heck, she is not even an orphan yet.