The other day when I was looking after Dad he got confused about breakfast and the following exchange ensued:
“What do I do now?”
“Have an oat cake”
“What do I do now?”
“Have an oat cake”
“Have an oat cake?!” (In his slightly aggressive sceptical tone) “Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s what you’ve done every morning for nearly 100 years Dad!”
Nearly 100 years! He is 92. He was nine when the war started, old enough to remember the navy dropping depth charges on a U-Boat that had entered The Clyde. Old enough to have grown up in a radically different world. A world with very different attitudes, attitudes that explain a lot of his views that I sometimes struggle with.
I need to remember this.
The Obvious? 
I know just what you mean… Barb and I have been taking care of my Dad for the past 2 1/2 years, he died on July the 24th as a tornado roared through a km south of our house. He died at home and I was with him, for that I am grateful. He maintained his sanity other than some bouts of forgetfulness and confusion about place and people. We had fruit and porridge together every morning. These last few years seemed a long haul but, in the end, it was good. We are having a gathering of friends at his house on September 24th, his 105th birthday.
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He seems like quite a guy.
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