It Ain't What I Think I Think

I was driving my dad to his cataract surgery appointment. It's a weird feeling taking your dad, who you once viewed as indestructible, to an appointment that would correct an old person thing called "cataracts." When did my dad get old? Yet, here we were driving and talking about our vivid memories of the past. I recalled, "I remember the time you had to go back to Rochester NY and take care of Grandma and Grandpa." You see, back when I was in high school my dad had discovered that his aged parents really needed help. So he flew out, sold their home, packed up all their belongings, got them an assisted residence in our hometown of Livermore, and flew them with him back out to California - all in one week. Amazing. Helping my own father made me recall the time he helped his own parents. So I asked him, "Do you remember what it was like to be a son to your mom and dad when you were younger as opposed to what it felt like as you grew older? What did honoring your mother and dad look like as you grew older?" Dad's answer surprised me. It reminded me that I often don't really know what I think I know. More to come.