Day #96 Writing Through COVID-19: Father's Day

Tomorrow is Father's Day.

Before my parents moved in with me, I was under the impression their lives were pretty much over. They were living in a nursing home. I knew my dad's heart was weak. My mom's memory was slipping.

My dad, age 30. I'm the baby.

But during their time here, I've learned how much life they still have in them. I know they are the pre-existing-conditions folk who are both most susceptible to the virus and also the ones a contingent of our country seems willing to "sacrifice" get the economy going again.

Having lived 90 years, they both admit they've had their share of earthly days.

But they are not in pain. They are not unhappy. They enjoy walking the dog, reading the paper, telling stories, watching movies, playing Bridge, talking to their children, blowing bubbles, reading books, writing emails, reading letters, remembering their courtship, sipping coffee, arguing over who's right, taking naps, reciting poems, re-telling stories, feeding the dog, remembering school days, working on puzzles, and eating bing cherries.

They appreciate the sunrise, clean sheets, honeybutter on toast, puns, the view of the corn, and a soft breeze.

They are generous in laughter and compliments. They have wonderfully soft skin.

These two people have lived productive, contributing lives. They've worked hard and uplifted many. I want them to live as many days as they can still comfortably enjoy.

If they contract COVID-19, they will have difficulty surviving it. Statistically, they would be expendable: 90-year-olds at the dusk of their lives.

But tonight, as I'm thinking about Father's Day, I want to focus on why I am glad my dad is still alive, and here with me.

Ten Things My Dad Can (Still) Do

1. Read a 600-page biography in a matter of days
2. Write stories about Alan, who was killed in the war
3. Explain why I shouldn’t have led that card 
4. Feed the dog
5. Apologize 
6. Cackle at his own jokes
7. Hold my mother’s hand
8. Listen to the whole of the person
9. Delight in a Klondike Bar
10. Recite the final stanza of "Thanatopsis" from memory:

“So live, that when thy summons comes…”

Enough.

Stay well.

Write.

Allison