When I was a teen, we got a newspaper called The Church News. It was published by Deseret News in Salt Lake City, and sent to members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who subscribed to it. It gave announcements of who was doing what in worldwide church leadership; it had encouraging articles and counsel from the prophet who leads the church. On the back it had a short column on historical events in church history. I loved reading the history and seeing pictures of new temples being built all over the world.

There was an occasional tribute to couples who had been married a very long time; my grandparents on my dad’s side were featured when they reached their 75th anniversary. My parents had been married for many years at that point; there was a good chance they might reach that milestone, and I determined that I wanted to, too. When I dated I insisted on men who were willing to take me to the temple to be sealed together for time and for all eternity. My high school crush chose not to join the church, so I blithely left him behind when I went to college.

The religious college I went to in Idaho had 7000 students, more women than men, but still a lot of eligible, faithfully religious young men. I had a crush on one and made friends with several. I had five female roommates my first year, and five different female roommates my third semester; almost all of them married within a couple years. I married at the end of my third semester, and my husband’s male roommate married two days before we did.

Marriage with Shawn was a wild ride; we moved 10 times and lived in six different states. We had seven children. We never lived in one place more than six years; he passed away abruptly when we had lived in Indiana for six years. We had celebrated our 26th anniversary.

I felt bereft, not just of my husband and boon companion, but of the dream of being married for most of my life. I married at age 20; I have, as of this year, been single for as many total years as I have been married. My father passed away last summer. He had been married to my mother since 1954: 69 years. He was 97 years old; I understand he did not want to live to 100 years old. He was in a lot of pain and couldn’t walk anymore. My mother and I both feel lonely. She is in assisted living in Utah; I’m in Indiana. Our children are living their own lives. It’s really true that it’s not good to be alone.