I haven't been on here much lately. I have been staying at my dad's house a couple nights a week and the place is not conducive to writing. He old. He lived through the FIRST depression. He needs to be in an assisted living place but he refuses.

He has lived in this  my childhood house for nearly 50 years and says he will die here. He is OLD and frail. He can no longer do hardly anything. His day is spent sitting. He has fallen about 4 times in the last 2 years cracking a rib, tearing his rotator cuff, bruising his face. He often is (or acts) confused. I will tell him something slowly, simply and his response is, "The WHAT now?" 

He gave up his drivers' license, thank God, and I was preparing to take him to the Doctor yesterday. He handed me his keys so I could retreive his handicapped tag for parking at the doctor's. "Just push that button," he said, so I went to his car and the button didn't unlock the car. I came in and told him the battery was dead.

"The WHAT now?"

I repeated that the button didn't unlock his car and he informed me that the button on his keys was to set the HOUSE security system. WTF???

I called the monitoring company and there was a hassle and  I was transferred, on hold, transferred again, all the while my dad was questioning me as to what was going on.

At the doctor's office my dad started his old man walk. He can't walk fast but at home he can walk ok. At any doctor's office he shuffles tiny baby steps and acts even more frail. He makes Grampa Simpson look like American Dad. The nurse was a nurturing, sweet lady and my father played on that telling her of all his medical problems and being confused by her questions and asking, "The WHAT now?."

I watched with amazement as she left and the young male doctor came in and suddenly my dad was talking of how he was feeling better. He Understood and could hear everything the doctor said.

My dad will die soon and I owe him so much. I hold my tongue when I am impatient. I clean his house and I cook for him. I wash his soiled laundry. He put up with me when I was a young punk drug addict piece of shit. I used to steal from him. I cannot get angry at him because, although we were never close, he never shut me out and I was so evil.

I also owe him a debt because I remember him when he was strong and our family was together and we didn't realize that the every day we were living "The Happy Good Old Days." I use him as a time machine to project myself into the future and look back on my life now and my son and know that I am living in "The Good Old Days" right now and I don't want to waste a moment because, before I know it, I will be the frightened old man and my son will make mention of the Old Days when we would laugh at videos on YouTube and I will respond with a solid, "The WHAT now??"