So in my usual way I internalize everything, then I check the oil in the car, and head into town. Before I left I texted my daughter with my death bed confessional. Meaning that I have a problem that I can’t solve, and I need some help. I mean isn’t it the parents that are supposed to be the strong ones helping their poor helpless children? But in my case the roles are reversed and it’s my children doing the rescuing. To be honest, I feels quite humiliating. I mean for nearly 40 years I was the problem solver, the go to guy. Now I find myself the one that is helpless, way before I’m supposed to be.
It reminds me of a horse a friend of mine had. Who for years he rode that horse in rodeos till the horse got too old ride. But instead of selling her off, he kept her comfortable in her final years out in a pasture next my home. Where he fed, brushed, and love her till he finally had to put her down. I don’t want to be that horse. But my daughter reminded me to stop worrying about everything and let the family take care of it. So now with the Kia in the shop and the U-Haul taken care of, I’m just sitting here in the yard watching the last load of clothes dry. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I’m learning appreciate the love and respect of my adult children. Like many they could completely ignore me and their mother. But instead they reciprocate the values I tried to teach them.