Growing Older

I read something the other day that made me pause and think about things. As parents, we spend a lot of lives focusing on how quickly our children are growing without thinking about how it affects everyone else. We forget that we, too, are aging. But perhaps what's more startling is that our parents are aging as well.

A girl I went to high school with lost her father last week, and I looked at the obituary online. Her dad was only 69. It scares me to think that I'm getting to an age where I might not have a parent around.

Recently my dad pondered retirement. My first reaction was that he's not old enough to do that! He decided not to for now, but it still made me pause and think about life.

Early last month, my dad had a minor procedure done at the hospital. Nothing major, but he had asked me if I would take him to the hospital and back home afterward. No problem. It occurred during winter break for the kids, but Phil graciously offered to keep an eye on the kids while he worked during the day. I arrived to take my dad to the hospital, and off we went.

While he went to check in, I sat down in one of the chairs. Once the woman emerged from the registration room, she said, "I hear your husband say you've been working here for 40 years!" Yeah, insert foot in mouth there. I felt horrible--first that I looked like my father's wife and second that I looked like I could have worked for 40 years! I'm not even 40!

I digress. The procedure went well, despite the fact that my dad was put under. He woke up and was so out of it. He was very pale, and it took him awhile to get the color back in his face. He kept saying how glad he was that I was there and how much he loved me and our entire family. He had me in tears, and I told him that of course I would be there for him and that there's no place else I'd rather be.

My dad was so vulnerable. I saw another side of him. A side that made me so eternally grateful that I live so close to them. A side that makes me scared to think about life without either one of them. My own grandfather passed away when I was 4, and my dad was about my age. That terrifies me.

Me and my dad and grandpa. I think I was about 3.

My parents made an appearance out at our house today, and while my mom was out entertaining the kids, my dad and I were able to sit and chat for a bit. It's those little things that I take for granted. I wish I didn't, but I do. And I hope they realize just how grateful am for everything about them. And I hope they'll be around for many more years to come.