I love my dad, of course I do. He is almost 94 years old and as is common with his generation, he is used to be taken care of by women. He was the youngest of 5 boys and lived at home much longer than his brothers, who all married young. His mother doted on him. He went directly to married life with my mother and that lasted 54 years. When she died my sister and I filled the role. And then my sister moved to Florida and now the mantel rests solely with me. Taking care of my dad consists mostly of catering to him. For a 94 year old he is quite independent. He can drive and does his own shopping and laundry. But, much like a child who has been indulged most of his life, he wants someone to be at his beck and call. Did I mention that he lives 35 minutes away? It may matter to me but certainly not to him. My husband’s birthday celebration was this weekend. “Are you going to come and pick me up?” he asks. Because even though he drives he does not do so at night, nor do I want him to. So I ask one of my daughters to pick him up and bring him to my house. And then I prepare the appetizers, serve drinks and dinner, serve the cake that I made, organize the gift giving and then oh yes, I need to drive him home. 70 minutes round trip. Why doesn’t he move closer you ask? Well, good question. I have asked him multiple times to move closer. We had many false starts and then he announced recently that he wants to die in his house. So I guess that means moving is out. But yet he thinks nothng of calling me and telling me that his dishwasher, garage door opener, computer or phone is broken and he needs us to look at it. I think he does have some awareness of how demanding he can be because he wrote this in my husband’s birthday card along with a check for 50 dollars:
This is for gas
That brings my ass
To your house for some sass
And good cooking by my favorite lass.