Let me get this straight. I am, we were, not rich by American standards. That’s why retiring to Belize makes sense. Our American dollar yields us two Belize dollars. It’s not necessarily cheaper to buy things as it is more difficult to find the opportunity to spend like I would at home. (Note to self, my reference to “home” is still the U.S.) There’s only one mall close by and I have to do a border crossing plus buy Mexican travel insurance for the car to get there. There is no Starbuck’s, no T.J.Maxx, no Micro Center. If being able to shop at those types of stores is important to you then this is definitely not the place for you.

By Belizean standards I am pretty rich. I have two cars and a boat in my driveway. I have a fenced yard enclosing a 1600 square foot, concrete house. I used to consider it small. Now, of course, there is the tiny house movement. Thank you HGTV. Those houses are small as are the houses of most villagers. They shrink further when considering the size of the families housed in them. Sometimes I see a place and I think we should trade dwellings. They need my space and I really only need theirs especially now that I am only one.

Crazy talk, eh, David? It’s o.k., I’m staying put.

When David died we lost money. The annuity payment that David received will now come to me, is a lifetime benefit and is reduced by 33 1/3 from the original amount. We chose this scenario. We might have chosen differently had we had the prescience to know David would only last three years into retirement. After subcontracting back to his former employer he enjoyed less than a year in full retirement but let me continue. We lost money. I suppose it can be argued that no we did not since the total benefit amount remains intact and the payout is for life albeit at a reduced amount. Well, one down and one to go. Who wins?

The benefit is from a Fortune 500, large, stable company. While nothing is 100% sure it is more probable than not that this is a secure, lifelong income source.

If I die tomorrow the buck stops with me. There is no beneficiary payout upon my death. Assuming I don’t live another twenty one years it bothers me that the money David saved would return to the retirement fund and not go to his family. It bothers me a lot. I don’t like that I have no control over that money although at sixty three years of age my time to “grow” it is limited. I would have to grow it conservatively but at a rate that beats inflation.

Our kids are independent. They are educated. They haven’t required help from us in a long time. Both kids are in long term relationships. They are responsible for themselves. We are responsible for ourselves. End of story. I know beyond a shadow of doubt that David would have me take the pension payment and run.

But he died and it’s my story now. I have a penchant for spending. A friend once opined that I would die penniless because I was a spendthrift. That sticks with me. I had better be careful here. Very careful.

Rollover. Lifetime survivor annuity. Lump sum. Partial payout. These have occupied my thoughts for days. I feel that I am paralyzed and cannot move forward until I make this decision.

Belbrize is back up under the carport. The keel is a little dinged up where we scraped the rocks last time we took her out. Nothing horrible but I remember the sound when we hit.

March 17, 2015. I sent this description to the kids. “Took the boat out finally yesterday. We are laughing about it now but yesterday it was a cluster. We are very boat inept but guess we won’t get proficient unless we take her out. First while taking her out we hit something, the bottom. It didn’t sound good. We were just a little off from where we normally run her out over the sandbar. We managed to float off whatever caught us and went on. Went to the Blue Iquana and anchored her out (a first for us) and took the little dinghy we built and rowed to shore. Rowing is a skill I need to work on but the waves were with us and helped carry us in. On the way back to the boat we were going against the wind and the waves so it was more difficult. We made it to the boat where we promptly flipped getting off. I believe we were screaming at one another at that point. : ) Yam-Yam (our home built dinghy) floated because of the foam and plastic pop bottles we put under her seats. We towed her home half full of water but still floating. Poor Yam-Yam. So….we had left after one and stopped for lunch. The sun went down while we were still on the way home. We should have started the motor a little sooner. Hindsight is always better than foresight. ; ) Sigh. The situation was further complicated by the fact that we had no running lights. WTF! Maybe our batteries are dead. Who knows? We are such rookies. We dropped anchor rather that try to hook up to the mooring ball in the dark and the boat is still here in this morning so all is well. David skinned all the knuckles on one hand, we both feel beat up and I think I chafed my ass sliding on the wet seat and along the deck. Everything pretty much no worse for the wear (we hope). We decided taking the motor off and on is such a total drag that we are going to leave it in place on the boat…thievery be damned. We’re going to put a cable through the motor housing and also through the hull of the boat with a 120 decible alarm attached. If you cut or pull on the cable it will wake some neighbor somewhere depending on which way the wind is blowing. Sick of hefting that 50-60 pound weight over the railing to get it into place. Other wise it’s sell this baby and get a boat with an inboard motor. (P.S. the 48 footer is off Fb so must be in contract.)”

You know what I remember? Sitting up on deck with David after we were safely anchored, having a beer, holding hands and looking up at the stars.

I miss looking out at Belbrize now when I get up in the morning. I miss greeting you when we stumble from the bed into the kitchen to make our coffee.