Today
would be my dad’s birthday. He was born 110 years ago. And he’s been gone
thirty-eight years. Happy Birthday, Dad.
Taken on Dad's last birthday, May 1975
(my sister is at his left shoulder)
Age has
been on my mind lately. My father died at age 72 and so did my father’s father
and my mother’s mother. But, even though I’m in the last days of my 72nd
year, I’m not worried about dying any time soon – at least not from ill health.
Mom and Dad with little Paul
My mother
thought she’d go at 72 just like the others in our family. She actually started
planning for it by giving away a lot of her things. From the day my dad died
when she was 68, she kept saying she was ready to die too. But she was tricked.
No matter how much she wanted to follow in her husband’s footsteps, she lived
to be 94.
So whose genes do I have – my dad’s short-life or my mother’s long-life genes? Only time will tell.
2 comments:
Believe it or not this topic has been on my mind for quite a while. My mom died suddenly at fifty-five and as I draw next to that milestone I can't help but think about her--how tragic her early demise was, but also my perception of her at that age. My mother's fifty five is not my fifty five...but still I'll breathe a sigh of relief once I've lived even one day longer than she did. Odd, isn't it?
I'm so sorry about your mother. Interesting that we're thinking the same thought of just getting past that fated number.
Thank you, Linda, for stopping by Choices. Let's reconnect when we know we're safe. xo
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