Less than a month from now, my dad will turn 87. You would think it’s a nice milestone to reach, unless you’re 86. While both my parents are, for the most part able to take care of themselves, week by week the mundane parts of life are becoming more difficult for my father.
Not an educated man, having given up his dream of working in the medical field in favor of a family, my dad can still read a medical journal and understand all the terms his ever tiring vocal cords have a hard time pronouncing. Besides his family, the passions of his life…food and the St. Louis Cardinals, give him as much joy as ever. He reads four newspapers a day, along with several books at a time. With a remarkable memory for numbers, the running joke is when asked what the distance is from point A to point B, the answer is always “about (000).4 miles.” It’s always “about”, the miles, followed by the .4 (or whatever the real number is) miles. Accuracy rounded off to the nearest tenth.
While family get-togethers are greatly anticipated, more and more often I watch the light in his eyes fade, as he cannot hear most of the conversations, or they are too fast for his brain to process. Watching this happen is the heartbreaking trade-off to treasuring the reality that he is still here. It still ain’t easy.
As the inevitable draws nearer, I think of the conversations we will no longer have each morning and afternoon. There’s the talk of sports, his total disdain of politicians, and long-ago family vacations which still hold a precious spot in all of our hearts. My dad now asks me for advice, when not so long ago I still considered advice-giving his exclusive domain.
Losing my father will be the single hardest thing to happen in my life; I know that nothing will even come close to that. I will miss the inside jokes that only he and I share, the ones which still produce a twinkle in his eyes. I will miss seeing him look at me with love and pride for even the smallest accomplishment. I will miss seeing the devotion to my mother, his reason for living. But mostly I will miss just knowing he is there. Love you Pops.