When my parents were my age, they’d been retired for nearly two years. They split their lives, as my mother still does, between a house in northern NY and another in central Florida.
My father took an interest in cooking. He’d always cooked some meals before this, mostly game, spaghetti, and a couple of recipes his mother cooked. He started cooking more, venturing into “gourmet” meals.
Every year, for the first few years after they retired, my parents would go on a cruise and a trip to Hawaii. They’d drive to New York for Christmas and the family would all get together.
Their trips to the north during the winter months ended about the time my father was my age. It was -39F the day they left return and because my father had Renaud’s Syndrome, his entire face turned blue from the cold.
They only enjoyed three years of this lifestyle. My father got cancer soon after retiring and died four years later. Their final years together were spent going for treatment or with him in the hospital.
They’d planned for a long and comfortable retirement. My mother has had that.
A Different Way 
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