Well look what I found, today, my long abandoned blog site! Nothing ever disappears on the web. maybe I will start posting again, who knows? I could use some good self talk these days. A lot has changed since 2009: we sold the place at the river, my mother died, some of our kids moved closer to Michigan. We got older. Rich and I creak a bit, and sleep more. We are at the three-quarters of a century mark and beginning to realize we're encountering more limitations. (Part of the reason we sold the cottage on its steep bluff above the river)
I am surprised I'll be 75 next year. Surprised my children are near 50! How did that happen? My beloved aunt, 102, died this year. My father, 99 didn't. He is a miracle of tenacity and will. The year was hard for him, with injuries and changes and new limitations, and I am old enough to see my future (if I should survive that long) in his curved spine, his spongy bones, his legs that just won't carry him. Am I frightened for him--or for me? Both, I guess. He presses on.
When you have had a parent around for 74 years you grow pretty accustomed to their being a part of the world you know. A world without them in it is unimaginable. That may be so between all parents and their kids, however old we are. I don't know. I wonder  if I am especially blind to reality.
My parents lost their parents before they reached their seventies. I have friends and family who lost their parents at young or middle ages. I wonder if, losing a parent at a young age, you grow up faster and take on more responsibility. No longer a parent to turn to for support or approval. After Dad is gone there will only be one person who has known me all my life. My sister. If she has ever known me. We are not particularly close. Still, we've drawn closer as our father gets older. As if we needed to hold hands, face what's coming together. We'll need each other.