RaisingDad

For a few minutes, I thought I was going to receive my inheritance, but before I tell you that story, let me tell you this one:      When my Mom was still alive, she and Dad were watching their favorite soap opera, As The Stomach Turns, or some such nonsense. She had made my father a nice chicken sandwich, and he was sitting there simultaneously eating his food and complaining about how stupid the characters were on the soap opera.      "Don't talk while you're eating," my mother told him, mainly, because she had served him poultry, not seafood. ( See food, get it?)      "I'm not talking while I'm..."      All of a sudden, he starts to choke on a piece of chicken.      "I warned you not to talk while you're eating," my Mom scolded him, thinking it wasn't as serious as it was.      My Dad made no reply. Mainly because a chunk of chicken ha...

Well, my Dad has been sick for several days now, but he doesn't listen. He continues on his walks. In the cold. In the wet. It doesn't matter. We ask him not to. We tell him not to. It doesn't matter. He knows better. He always knows better. He's determined to walk his illness away. When he comes back, he's tired. And not feeling well. He thinks walking will help him live forever, but it just might be the death of him.      At this particular time, I'm in sitting in the great room. All the lights are off. The drapes are closed. I like the cold. I like the dark. I guess that makes me Team Edward. I swear, my Dad must have a camera somewhere inside the house, with the receiver in his room, because he'll stay in his little father-in-law house until one of us, mainly me, enters the kitchen or the great room, and then, seconds later, he'll walk right through the kitchen door. My theory is that he is constantly monitoring us on his receiver, and as soon as h...

What starts off as a good morning changes in the blink of an eye.      I'm sitting in the kitchen at my favorite spot, enjoying a nice hot cup of coffee. I'm waiting for my wife to serve me breakfast. She doesn't serve me because she has to, she serves me because she loves me.      Don't judge me because I'm beautiful.      My Dad walks in just as my wife puts a plate of food in front of me. He has that kind of timing.      "Good morning, Dad," my wife tells him happily.      I look at my breakfast. Two eggs, over easy. Just the way I like them.      "Good morning, Dad," I tell him, also happily. Food, I hate to admit, makes me happy.      "Good morning," he tells the two of us, but I really know he's talking to my wife. "Well, I'm feeling better."      Feeling better? I didn't even know he wasn't feeling w...

The more things change, the more they stay the same.      It's been raining here for over a week. I've already let the dogs go outside to do their business this morning. They weren't too happy about it, but they do what they're told. My Dad, on the other hand, is a stubborn old coot. I call him an old coot with affection. Besides, that's what he is. Me, too, for that matter.      He's sitting in his favorite chair. Not the one in the great room, but the one at the kitchen table. At the HEAD of the kitchen table. You know... MY chair. So he's sitting in my chair, the way he usually does, and he keeps talking about going for a walk.      "You'll have to skip your walk today, Dad," I tell him. "It's raining."      "No, it's not," he tells me.      Not raining? That catches me by surprised. It's only been raining for the past week. This morning's no different.    ...