Fragile

It’s after midnight here. Usually after Dad goes to bed, I go to work doing what I can’t while he’s watching. Tonight, I sneaked into his wallet and left next-of-kin information. I’ve tried to get the stupid gas meter running without success (don’t ask). This is a light night for this type of thing, which is good. Dad never stopped talking. It’s easy to forget what Dad was. In some ways, he’s much nicer now. He’s lost his bitter edge, but he’s kept his sense of humor. He used to rant for hours. Now, even when he rants, the stories are so jumbled that they end up being humorous. As I was hanging a secret set of keys in a closet, so I can tell him where to look after he inevitably loses his, I came across a 1997 calendar. He’s got all our birthdays listed, plus notations of the date packages were sent and acknowledged on our end. Today, he couldn’t remember that I got mail today even though he gave it to me. It’s nice to remember Dad wasn’t always like this. I visited Canterbury today, which was a nice diversion. I’ve posted a few new pictures. While in Canterbury, I picked up an old album by Mike and the Mechanics. Anyone remember them? That took me back. There’s a song that was on my mind – The Living Years. Life is precious. My daughter was raced to emergency last night and spent most of the night in the hospital. She’s fine now, but she will need tests. It’s hard for me to hear this as I’m so far away. It’s hard for Charlene to go through this without me. Without getting too philosophical here, life is more fragile than we usually remember.