We will never pass this way again...

Death is part of life. Our society turns focus to the start of life, the births, birthdays and activities of the young. First words, steps and tumbles are anticipated like a blockbuster movie. 


Childhood is simple and pleasant for most children. Their lives have some difficulties, sure, but they learn to deal with things little by little.


So spins the earth, and the years tick by. Puberty, adolescence, adulthood. We make it to the goal, adulthood! Then graduation, marriage, children... that's a common path for people. There's divorce a lot of times. We use all these experiences to grow and become wiser. 


By the time we go to the 30th reunion from our high school graduation, we've lost some classmates. Some we were aware had passed, and some we discover while we are there. Rather a bittersweet time, that reunion. We know we are not immortal now.


Many of us have another realization around the half-century mark. Our parents are not immortal, either. For me, I realized my own mortality before I realized that of my parents. Yes, indeed some of us came to know that before getting near the half-century mark, There's been a recent escalation in my friends losing their parents, and most are 50 years of age, give or take a couple years.


I lost my father May of 2008. It hurt a lot, but I muddled through. I reflect on him now and again.


However, my Dad is sick now. The Dad who saved me from myself. 


I smoked, drank, and toked a little weed. Yes, at the age of 12. Everything I lived with and through, made me doubt I had anything worth protecting in me, so I didn't even try. My father, though I loved him, was sometimes cruel. My Mom, who adored me was so busy trying to protect us, she couldn't take time to get close to me. She ended up protecting us by divorcing him.


I was 12 when my Mom met Dad. His children distanced themselves from him when their mom divorced him. My dad distanced himself from me when Mom divorced him. So, we both had a vacuum where we once had family. We knew the hurt of being thrown away.


We became family to each other, even before Mom and Dad got married. He scolded me when I was out of line, and showered me with protection and love. I mattered to him, and that's what I needed.


He thought highly of me, and I strove to be as good as he thought I was. I rarely drank or smoked pot, though cigarettes had me in their grip. I did not ever want to disappoint him.


I brook no disrespect of my Dad. Not from anyone. He has a reputation of being bull-headed and stubborn, and he is. I get through that wall, the wall he's put up to protect himself, by being open, too. My sister, our children and grandchildren do the same thing. When he's rough, we remind  him we love him, no matter what. 


As is usual, I don't know the number of days my Dad has remaining on this earth. I want to spend as many of those days as I can with him. When he passes, I'll become stronger and wiser. 


Then I will spend the rest of my life still trying not to disappoint him.