Dinner with Dad, I’m Sad…I’m Glad!

It has been a while since I’ve spent time with Dad, partly just due to our time constraints, some travel, and that I just plain and simple did not have the emotional energy and fortitude to do it.  Bad Son, I know.

Really though, deep down I know I am not a bad Son, probably on many scales I am a very good son, I just feel bad, and sad, sometimes.  Bad in the sense that I don’t want to see him, bad that I am frustrated when I do see him, angry that I have to see him.  Sadness that I feel those emotions at all.  Boy, where’s the psychoanalysts couch when you need it?

So see him I did.  I drove to his place after work, and I had been planning on going anyway.  In addition to visiting him and helping where I could I also had to deposit a cheque in his account, the rental monies that were returned to him after his place in Langley was re-rented.  His pharmacist had also called me, there was to be a small change made to his meds, the result of his most recent blood tests.  The old meds had to be collected, the change made at the pharmacy, and then blister-packed and returned to his home.  A small to-do list, the least I could do.

After I arrived at his place we checked out his scooter, there may be an issue with one or both of the batteries, they don’t seem to be holding a charge.  I couldn’t see anything obvious but promised to check into it.  At least this time he remembered he had a scooter…….See, there I go again, bad son, Sad, son.

I’m ok, really, it just presents me with some challenges sometimes, being the parent of a parent.  Did I mention it makes me sad too??

We finished our visit by going out to dinner.  We could have stayed and had dinner at the home but I promised we’d do it another time.  I wanted to get out.  Chinese food seemed to be the nourishment of choice so we found a local restaurant where we pretty much had the place to ourselves.  One tiny little woman attended to us, running back and forth to the kitchen so often I wondered if she was doing double or triple duty.  We topped up our tanks, tried to maintain some small talk and once our tummies were full I took him home.

He is so appreciative now, so grateful for my help and commenting often “Thank you Dwayne”.  He says to me “We love you”. I know he means He loves me.  He never said that before we started helping him with his life, never that I can recall as a kid, but he says it often now, so often I have to believe he means it.  That simple statement helps to take the Sad away.  Did I mention it makes me Glad.  Thank You Dad!

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