Whenever I spend time with my father, I have a tendency to become reflective.
No airing dirty laundry for me; just some random thoughts.
It comes with the territory, watching someone stare down 88 years that collectively become a lifetime; the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Those years are indelible, as are the scars, but what a blessing.
Those years are indelible, as are the scars, but what a blessing.
I see the parallels, riding on my father’s coattails almost three decades later; the joys, the sorrows, the pain, the regret. I can do so little for him now except give him my time, a home cooked meal, help him sort through his laundry; mend the holes, smooth the creases, toss out the items that have seen better days.
There’s a lot that needs sorting after 88 years. I’m not sure if he tried to keep up as he went along or left it all for the end. He wasn’t one to talk when I was looking for answers. I don’t ask a lot of questions anymore. Those days are gone. Soon my father will be gone too.
It’s amazing what you can learn when you really listen. Without an agenda, I’ve come to understand forgiveness. It comes fairly easy now, what with my own litany of mistakes and the ensuing regrets.
I regret I never got the same chance with my mother. We were both cut from the same cloth; strong, brightly colored fabric woven tight with emotion. No bias cuts for the two of us, although the fabric is beginning to fade with time. There’s no going back, either. I miss her terribly. We have so much unfinished business I hope to take care of when we meet again.
My father’s affairs, on the other hand, are all in order. Now he waits.
He knows without a shadow of a doubt today is all he’s got. I do, too. It's why we make the most of the remaining time together.
There’s a lot that needs sorting after 88 years. I’m not sure if he tried to keep up as he went along or left it all for the end. He wasn’t one to talk when I was looking for answers. I don’t ask a lot of questions anymore. Those days are gone. Soon my father will be gone too.
It’s amazing what you can learn when you really listen. Without an agenda, I’ve come to understand forgiveness. It comes fairly easy now, what with my own litany of mistakes and the ensuing regrets.
I regret I never got the same chance with my mother. We were both cut from the same cloth; strong, brightly colored fabric woven tight with emotion. No bias cuts for the two of us, although the fabric is beginning to fade with time. There’s no going back, either. I miss her terribly. We have so much unfinished business I hope to take care of when we meet again.
My father’s affairs, on the other hand, are all in order. Now he waits.
He knows without a shadow of a doubt today is all he’s got. I do, too. It's why we make the most of the remaining time together.
Making the most of the moment always means finding the fun.
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