Struggling Well With Life

One of the highlights of my week is a ten minute conversation that takes place driving back after an uptown lunch appointment - Mondays with Richard. My dad is 85, and as active as I am. It’s tough to find him at home, but a year or so ago I discovered this window on Monday afternoons when it’s rare not to find him right next to the phone. He lives in a retirement community two blocks off the boardwalk in Ocean City, New Jersey, and most days walks the full length of the boards and back - 5 miles. His life is pretty full. He is the self appointed wheel pusher ensuring that everyone gets to services and back, he drives his neighbors to their doctors appointments, golfs, rides his bike several times a week, and has quite the active social calendar. Keeping those desperate widows at bay is a whole lot of work itself, cause he is quite the catch. I wondered, even worried what life would look like for him once my mom passed. She was literally everything to him. They were high school sweethearts, and when he lost her, he lost the love of his life. Though he misses her terribly, he finds joy every day. I am proud of this man, proud of the man he is, and proud of the man he is still becoming. At 85 he is still growing, maturing, deepening. And at 85 he is still teaching this boy what it means to be a man.