Silver-haired Zhou Kun­yan, age 73, and 86-year-old Zhao Shou­xian are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary this year. If this were the West, it would be the golden wedding anniversary and it would be common for the partners to exchange gold rings.

Although there are no gilded rings here, for Zhou the senior years with her partner of half a century have been unexpectedly rich. They are seen by envious friends and family as the ideal couple. Each day they exercise together and cook together, they talk about everything under the sun, and they even have a regular “date” every Thursday.

The Zhaos, married for half a century, say that their married life has been like eating sugar cane from the stump—the farther along they have gone, the sweeter it has become!

In Taiwan the idea that when you raise children, they should look after you in old age, is still widespread. An impressive 67% of the elderly live with a son or daughter, while only about 18% live only with a spouse or a cohabiting partner.

Therefore the independent couple of Zhou Kun­yan and Zhao Shou­xian are by no means the traditional norm. But they have open-minded, free-spirited personalities, and once their children married, had children of their own, and bought their own houses, the couple embraced living independently, and have been doing so for nearly a decade now.

“This way the children can learn to stand on their own feet while both we and they have our freedom.” These two seniors agree that this is the best possible arrangement. Right now the sons and daughters come home every weekend, and it is not unusual to see them all setting off—10 people packed into two cars, chatting and laughing happily—for a family dinner or sightseeing.

“I’m really enjoying this time of my life,” says Zhou. They live each day to the fullest, and feel more and more at their ease. They not only do activities together and look after each other, but tease and play jokes on each other. The two of them are really making the most of their golden years.

Nonetheless, as with most marriages, they have experienced their share of crises. Luckily for them, their marriage has actually gotten better over time, and they liken it to chewing sugarcane from the wrong end: the farther along you go, the sweeter it gets.

Thinking back to the first 20 years of their marriage, the two of them in fact argued quite a lot and were by no means happy. The root of the friction was that the husband was too good to those around him, while ignoring his own family.

Before Zhao came to Taiwan from mainland China with the military, his mother took him aside and gave him the duty of taking care of his younger brother. After that, spoiling his younger brother became the only way that he could do anything to honor his mother, who passed away shortly thereafter. His brother merely had to open his mouth, and Zhao would deny him nothing. But it was different with his wife—her requests always got short shrift.

Later, when her husband retired from the military, he and some friends invested their money in a farm and the whole family moved from Tai­pei City to the remote countryside. There was a dramatic change in their lifestyle. Zhou had to care for one infant son, while her other two children, who were in primary school, had to travel a long way to get to class, something that kept her constantly worried. Her husband was also under a lot of pressure trying to make a living, and the stress of day-to-day living with uncertainty made the atmosphere in their household like a volcano that could erupt at any time. She felt frustrated and depressed.

The Zhaos, married for half a century, say that their married life has been like eating sugar cane from the stump—the farther along they have gone, the sweeter it has become!

Then, by chance, she learned about Teacher Chang, an organization that provides counseling services, which proved to be like a floating log to a drowning man, and helped her get through the toughest times.

Zhao did not manage his farm well, and moved to back to Tai­pei, after which he went into business with his younger brother, opening a distilled-water production plant. But Zhao, a very straightforward and inflexible person, ran into trouble in his relations with his partners and lost his main clients. The business collapsed ignominiously.

The years of business failure were also the years when their three children were growing up. Zhou not only taught in a kindergarten and raised and educated the children, she avidly took a variety of spiritual growth courses, and would sign up for any kind of class so long as it promised to help her process of self-exploration.

She also began to reflect on her marriage: She was always kind and considerate to her children and friends, so why was it that the only one to whom she couldn’t be generous was her husband? She gradually learned to focus on her husband’s positive attributes. For all those years, he brought home his entire income and turned every penny over to his wife, and after retirement helped with household chores and even learned to cook a little. Here was a man who took care of his family! Subtly, relations between husband and wife began to change.

Over time she discovered how unfeeling and harsh she had been. For example, she often nagged him about using too much oil on his eggs and about how unhealthy it was for him to eat even two of them at a time. She later realized that when her husband was small his family was poor, short of even basic necessities like cooking oil, and eggs were a luxury, so the deprivation of his childhood re-emerged as a subconscious desire for more.

Telling the complete story of all the myriad trivialities of half a century together would fill volumes—there have been good times, but also bad times. Nonetheless, unlike many elderly couples in Taiwan, these two at least don’t have to worry about money.

Statistics from the Ministry of the Interior show that the economic resources of the elderly come mainly from “contributions from their children.” Next comes government welfare or subsidies, followed by “own pensions or insurance” and then “personal savings.” About 77% of elderly surveyed responded that they had “enough” or “a substantial amount” of money to cover their daily needs, while 21% responded “not enough.”

It is estimated that the average elderly man in Taiwan needs about NT$15,400 to cover his living expenses, about NT$3400 more than the average elderly woman.

Zhao was in the military for many years, and has his monthly pension from there, while the three children, all of whom have been successful in business and feel a sense of duty toward their parents, contribute money as well. Zhao and Zhou therefore have more than sufficient sources of income.

In the same survey the Ministry of the Interior also asked elderly people about their health, the issue that generally preoccupies senior citizens more than any other. Among elderly men, 56% answered that their current physical and psychological condition was “quite good,” whereas only about 48% of women gave the same answer. However, the survey also revealed that 75.9% of elderly people suffered from some kind of chronic or serious illness.

Zhao has had several stents implanted in his coronary arteries over the years. Out of concern for his safety, he prefers not to take long journeys. A few years ago Zhou went with her two sons and one daughter to the United States on a vacation for couple of months, but now that she thinks back on it, she feels that it was very risky to have left her husband alone at home.

Looking to the future, the naturally stubborn and intransigent Zhao has mellowed under his wife’s steady and quiet influence. He is willing to discuss more and more subjects, even no longer avoiding the subject of the end of life, which he had formerly kept at arm’s length.

In fact, households consisting only of elderly couples must inevitably face the problem that one of them will die first, leaving the other alone. It is vital that arrangements be made for so important an eventuality.

Zhou says that in the future, if her husband is the first to go, she doesn’t exclude the possibility of spending her last years in a nursing home. But if any of her children are willing to look after her, she would happily accept, because it is much healthier to spend one’s days surrounded by family.

Zhao wrote a letter to his wife for their 50th anniversary. “My dear old wife: You are my benefactress, the person who I most love and who is closest to me. It is because of you and only you that I feel motivated to keep moving forward, and that I have the enjoyment of a full and happy life.” As Zhou reads this letter on the eve of their anniversary, she sheds tears of happiness that her husband remembers and is grateful for the wife who stayed with him through better or worse.

It’s never too late to fall in love—even with your own spouse!