Lucy, have you lost your mind in your old age? Your grandkids are already off to school—what do you mean you’re getting married?” That’s what I heard from my sister when I told her I was tying the knot.

Lucy, youre losing your mind at your age! my sister Sarah shouted when I told her I was getting married.

In a week Tom and I were to sign the marriage register, so I thought I should let Sarah know. Of course she wouldnt travel to the ceremony we live at opposite ends of England and at our ages we werent planning any extravagant party with shouting Hurrah! Wed simply exchange vows quietly, just the two of us.

I could have skipped the ceremony altogether, but Tom insists. Hes utterly devoted: he holds the door open for me, offers his arm when I get out of the car, helps with my coat. He wont live without an official stamp in his passport. What am I, a schoolboy? he says, I need a serious relationship. To me, he does feel like a schoolboy, even with his silver hair.

At work they respect him, calling him by his forename and surname only. There hes stern and professional, but when he sees me he seems to shed forty years. He pulls me into a hug and starts twirling me in the middle of the street. Im embarrassed, though delighted. People will stare, theyll laugh, I whisper. He replies, What people? I see only you. When were together I truly feel as if the whole world has narrowed to just us.

I still have my sister, though, and I needed to tell her everything. I feared Sarah would judge, as many others had, but I needed her support most of all. Summoning my courage, I dialled her.

Lucyaa, she drawled, her voice breathy when she heard I was about to be a bride, only a year has passed since Victor was buried, and youve already found a replacement!

I knew the news would shock her, but I didnt expect her anger to be aimed at my late husband.

Sarah, I remember, I interjected, but who decides these timelines? Can you give me a number? How long must I wait before I can be happy again without facing criticism?

She thought for a moment.

Well, for propriety youd better wait at least five years, she said.

So I should tell Tom, Sorry, wait five years, Ill be in mourning until then?

Sarah fell silent.

What good would that do? I pressed on. Do you really think five years will stop people from whispering? There will always be gossip, but honestly I couldnt care less. Your opinion matters, thoughif you keep insisting, Ill call off the wedding.

You know, Im not trying to be harsh, just get married today! But I dont understand you and I cant support you. Youve always been clever, but I never thought youd outlive your own mind at this age. Have some conscience, wait at least another year.

I refused to give up.

You say wait a year. What if Tom and I only have a year left togetherwhat then?

Sarah snorted.

Do whatever you like. Everyone wants happiness, and youve already lived many happy years

I laughed.

Sarah, seriously? You thought Id been happy all these years? I thought the same. Only now do I see I was just a workhorse. I never knew life could be lived for joy.

Victor had been a good man. We raised two daughters, Hester and Beryl, and now I have five grandchildren. He always said family was the most important thing, and I never argued. First we worked hard for our family, then for our childrens families, then for our grandchildren. Looking back, my life was a nonstop race for prosperity, with no lunch breaks.

When our eldest daughter married, we already owned a cottage in the Yorkshire Dales, but Victor wanted to expand, to raise livestock for the grandchildren. We rented a hectare of land, took on the burden of a farm, and tended the cattle year after year. He never slept past five in the morning; we lived on the farm most of the year, rarely visiting the town except for necessities.

Friends would call, bragging about seaside trips with their grandchildren or theatre nights with their husbands. I never even got to the theatre, let alone the supermarket! There were weeks we went without bread because the cattle tied us down, but one thing kept us going: the children and grandchildren were always fed. Our eldest daughter even swapped her car for a new one thanks to the farms income, and the younger one repaired her flat. So all our toil wasnt in vain.

One day a former colleague visited and said,

Lucy, I barely recognized you. I thought you were out there breathing fresh air, regaining strength. You look halfdead! Why torture yourself?

How else? I replied. The kids need help.

The children are grown, theyll manage themselves. You should live for yourself.

I didnt understand what living for yourself meant then. Now I do: I can sleep as long as I like, stroll through shops, watch a film, splash in a pool, ski down a hill. No one suffers because of it. My children havent fallen into poverty, my grandchildren arent hungry. Most importantly, Ive learned to see ordinary things with fresh eyes.

Earlier, gathering fallen leaves in sacks on the cottage felt like a chore, a pile of rubbish. Now the leaves lift my spirits. I walk through the park, kick them with my foot and laugh like a child. Ive learned to love the rain, not as a nuisance driving goats under the roof, but as a gentle view from a cosy café window. I now marvel at the wonder of clouds, sunsets, the crisp crunch of fresh snow, and I finally see how beautiful my town isthanks to Tom.

After Victors sudden heart attack, he died before the ambulance arrived. The children sold the farm and cottage and sent me back to the city. The first days I wandered like a lunatic, unsure what to do. I still rose at five, roamed my flat, wondering where to go.

When Tom entered my life, I remember his first walk with me. He turned out to be my neighbours soninlaw, helping us move things from the cottage. He later admitted hed first seen me as a forlorn, lost woman and felt sorry. I realised you were still alive, still full of energy, you just needed a push out of the gloom. He took me to a park for fresh air, bought icecream, suggested a stroll to the pond to feed the ducks. I had tended ducks on the farm but never had a moment just to watch them. Theyre comical, flapping about for crumbs!

Its hard to believe you can just stand and watch ducks, I admitted, I never had time to enjoy them, only to feed, clean, and tend to them.

Tom smiled, took my hand and said, Hold on, Ill show you a world of wonders. Youll feel reborn.

He was right. Like a child, I discovered new things every day, and the past began to feel like a distant dream. I cant pinpoint the exact moment I realised I needed Tomhis voice, his laugh, his gentle touchbut now I cant imagine life without them.

My daughters werent thrilled about our relationship; they accused me of betraying Victors memory. It hurt, I felt guilty before them. Toms children, however, were overjoyed, saying their father finally had peace. All that remained was to tell Sarah, which I kept postponing.

Whens the ceremony? Sarah asked after our long talk.

This Friday.

Then what can I say? Happiness and love in old age, she replied coolly.

Before Friday, Tom and I bought groceries for two, dressed smartly, called a taxi, and headed to the registry office. When we stepped out of the car, I froze: standing at the entrance were my daughters with their spouses and grandchildren, Toms children with their families, and, most importantly, my sister Sarah, clutching a bouquet of white roses, smiling through tears.

Lucy! Did you really bring this on? I gasped.

I have to see who Im handing you over to, she laughed.

It turned out the whole family had coordinated a table at a café for the wedding day.

A few weeks later we celebrated our anniversary. Tom is now everyones man. I still cant believe how wildly happy I am, as if Ive won the lottery of life.

All these years I chased security, work, and duty, never pausing to enjoy the simple pleasures. Now I understand that love and happiness have no expiration date, and that its never too late to start living for yourself. The real lesson? When you open your heart, even in the later chapters, life can still surprise you with new beginnings.