Todd and I are eastbound on I70 headed home to Virginia after spending a glorious weekend with my dad in Indiana. At 87 he’s been experiencing some health problems; and I needed to check in, sit with him on the screened porch in the back yard under the shade of the pecan trees, enjoy a few much needed hugs, and indulge in a bit of nostalgia.
Initially, his doctors thought he had pneumonia, or bronchitis, or congestive heart failure or a mild heart attack. Apparently, his chronic kidney disease was screaming at him to drink more water and stop lugging gigantic rocks around the yard after Kentucky Derby parties.
He is not a typical octogenarian. He still walks faster than I. He gives talks on historical characters from Cass County, Indiana without notes. He plays the piano, goes to chair yoga, hosts parties, and goes out with friends regularly.
However, he is frustrated that he has been advised to stop the heavy lifting, cut back on salt, has his driving wings clipped a bit, and has to rest more frequently. But I don’t want him to give up all that makes him enjoy life with such gusto.
I am filled with gratitude that he has such wonderful friends and neighbors who love him and look out for him. I just wish sometimes I lived closer so I could spend more peaceful hours on the porch listening to his wren serenade him. Thank you, Daddy, for a joyous weekend.
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