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I love my husband, and he loves me. Yesterday we celebrated our 44th anniversary. So why am I typing a letter into this blog about separation and divorce? It's because the years before us are defined by what my husband envisions as "life": resignation, wine for breakfast, and withdrawal. He has done his bit, and is ready to await death in faith and confidence that all will be well because Jesus will make it right. No doubt, this is true, but I find it sad and incomplete and cowardly. I hope to live until I die. And I Ihope to find meaningful ways to spend my time in the service of those who need loving, wherever they may be. Sometimes, lately, it seems to me that the only way I will be free to live and love, rather than succumb to the long death of resignation, is to go my own way, and let him go his own way. Sad, after so many years of our joyful working toward mutual goals, raising our two great kids, and giving back so much to society from our good fortune. But what is happening now feels like stoppage and stagnation and despair. It's out of sync with our whole lives, and I can't stand it. He is 73, and I am 67. We are both in good health, have lots of energy, and work part-time. What to do?