Dads and Daughters

Growing up my Father took care of his mother towards the end of her life. He always made sure she had the basics, and some of the not so basics, like a new roof, when hers was leaky. A new bed when hers was old and musty. New flooring and carpet when her house flooded from the snow meltdown. He always took good care of her. She used to tell him to quit buying her stuff. She didn't need stuff. So when he would show up with something new to replace the old he would tell her, "I found it on the side of the road". As a child I always thought this was strange. Why on earth would Dad "lie" to Grandma and tell her such tall tales? Obviously he didn't find whatever he happened to be bringing up to her house on the side of the road.

In the last few years I have watched my Dad's physical health slowly decline. He went from being very active, to somewhat active, to being in constant pain and at times barely able to walk. It is hard to watch your parents grow old. Their bodies become their Judas, they betray them. Over the summer I would show up with random things that would help him, a new this or a new that, and Dad would argue and fuss and tell me to quit spending my money on him. Towards the end of the summer I bought him a pair of shoes designed with extra support for stability and he said, "Oh Mol, would you quit it. They are nice but quit it". I looked him straight in the eye and said, "What??? I found them on the side of the road". He didn't utter a peep.

It's hard for our parents when we become them.