After Levi’s basketball game today, we stopped by my mom’s for a few a hours. Levi wanted to stay for the next game but I didn’t think Kendyll would sit still for another hour. So my mom stayed at the game with Levi - she’s a real basketball fan - and I took Maggie, Boomer and Kendyll to her house to spend time with my dad.
My dad was still sleeping when we got there. He’s 84 so I guess it’s normal that he sleeps till noon. I went in to his room to give him a kiss and I think I scared him a little bit. He can’t hear so I woke him with a kiss.
It’s odd seeing my dad looking old. I remember when his brother slept in that bed as my parents nursed him through his last days with cancer. I remember my grandmother and my Aunt Jo in that room, so old and frail. In fact, you’d think my parents would have adjustable beds set up in every bedroom, so they could care for elderly relatives. There have been four in all, as recently as a year ago. My parents are amazing.
We’re all growing older but it just doesn’t feel right seeing my dad aging like this. He’s supposed to stay young. In my mind, my dad is 40, handsome. He’s got a spring in his step. He stands up straight, goes to Elby’s with his friends or takes us downtown to visit his old hangouts. Like this:

Or I remember my dad as a grandfather, just recently retired and enjoying the kids. He’d drive down to my house to pick up one of the kids, take them out to McDonalds or something. He’d let the boys hang out with him when he cut the grass or did some chore that my mom assigned him but my dad’s best side was when he was just being his own loving self. And that was always most evident with his granddaughters. My dad was the best father a daughter could ever have. He loved us unconditionally. He loves his granddaughters the same way. Maggie always loved her Pap Pap, too.

But my dad is 84 and looking aged. He doesn’t leave the house much these days. He hasn’t driven for several years because he had too many accidents in a short time. He’s forgetful. He sleep late, and naps often. There’s more gray in his hair, but he’s still not totally white. He walks with a cane, although he still shuffles around the kitchen without it.
After we left my mom’s, she talked my dad into coming to my house for a little birthday party for Kendyll. My dad loves Kendyll and really comes alive when she’s around. He plays hide and seek with her and doesn’t seem to get tired of looking for her over and over again. And Kendyll loves my dad. The two of them talk to each other and somehow, my dad understands what Kendyll is saying. That’s funny because my dad can’t even hear the rest of us. My dad has always loved his girls.

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Hi Marisa:
First of all thank you for your sweet welcome on the PPP forum. That was very nice of your to leave those kind words.
Second, the post about your parents did touch my heart. Before my Mom passed away 5 years ago at 87, I would notice when she was in her early 80’s and think to myself “mom, you aren’t suppose to get old, you are my mom ,you are my rock and you just can’t get old.” But that’s not reality either. It’s very difficult to see our loving parents age, isn’t it??
Ellen
Yes, Ellen, it’s very difficult. My mom and I discussed my dad today on the phone and I was sobbing like a baby. It used to be a far off thought; now it’s too real for my heart.
Your mom and dad are so sweet, Marisa. I always have a shoulder if you need one. I know up close what you’re going through right now.
I know, Tammie. I’m not ready for this phase. But then, I guess we’re never ready, are we?