Rob made the comment How many summers will I have left is another thought.
What is is about us that when we reach our 50’s we start thinking about the end? Most do it and it irritates me when I do it.
Rob’s comment made me think of a day in 1996. I had returned to Glens Falls, New York to visit my dad who was recovering in the hospital. Part of my reason for returning was to spend a few days with him when he returned home. I picked him up at the hospital and drove him the 10 or so miles home.
As we left the hospital parking lot, dad lit a cigarette, sat back gently in the passenger seat and said, “Christ Bub, that was quick.” I glanced at him and he was staring out the window with a gentle and wistful smile. It was at that point, he and I realized that he was dieing. He was, and this was to be our last ride.
He faced his own death without fear or anger. Yes, he wanted to live longer. He wanted to see his grand children again and he would have adored his great grand children. Alas, that was not to be. He understood the journey he was on and accepted the outcome with dignity. He was a tough North Country logger and had a kind and gentle soul. There are few days in my life that his influence on me is not manifested in some way by my approach to life. I miss him desperately. He was a man, in the best sense of the gender comment, and I am proud of him.