This morning as I was proofing one of the obit pages I came across an obit that, well, for some reason hit me with a little more force than usual. I don't know the woman. I've never met her and wouldn't have known her had I run into her on the street. But something about it just touched me. She was 45. Maybe that was it. She was still so young. Still had so much more of her life ahead of her. Right next to her was another lady, this one older, 79 years old. Never married. I started thinking, was she loved enough? Did she feel like her life was full, even without the husband and kids? Were all of the civic groups and organizations she was involved in enough to make her happy and fulfilled in her life?

Two different women. Two different lives. I often wish I could talk to the women who fall into the second category. Ask them if they had been loved. Even if it was just once in their lives. And if so, if that was enough for them. As I get older with, let's face it, little prospect of my having the husband, kids, etc. I wonder if my own obituary will read like the second lady's. A long list of activities that were basically a way of filling the hole. Something used to keep myself busy enough so that I don't have to think about the fact that I still sleep alone at night. Still don't have a reason to turn the ring around.