My father in law is 87, the family patriarch, and yet in his mind he is as young and charming as when he wed his bride. The years were kind and cruel. He had 6 children, there are only 3 left. His wife of 62 years died this February, leaving him behind.
He is lost.
His wife did everything for him and compounded by his creeping dementia, he cannot manage on his own. At his birthday in October, he was looking forward to being 90.
Now he’s looking forward to his next meal.
Yet all around him, life goes on. We have had new pregnancies and babies announced. December, February, April, June. We have a bumper crop.
His life is coming to a jerky stop, like a top that is in its final spins. We have lots of stories to pass on about this man called Papa/Opa. Some are funny, some are sad, some outrageous. They will be told slowly, intertwined with stories of the family matriarch, Mary.
He’s not my favourite person, yet he commands respect. He has done the best he knew how. He will be remembered in the stories and the grandchildrens’ smiles.