It's been around six or seven years since Dad seemed something like himself. (Which was always a changing perception as he aged . . . which is--of course--true for all of us.)
It's been about four years since Dad gave me his Seiko wristwatch featuring the Pioneer company logo on the black watch face. I knew at the time that he was starting to give things away and begin the slow, symbolic process of saying goodbye.
It's been a little under three years since Dad entered a full time care facility and began slipping away.
It's been almost one year since Dad died.
It's only been a couple of days since I looked at that the watch on my left arm and realized that I am now definitely past the age that I remember him wearing it every day.
That shocked me.
We all age and I know when I look in the mirror that I'm no where at all who I was even five years ago, much less fifteen years ago. But to come to the realization that I'm now older than Dad was in my memory . . . when he seemed fully grown and adult and in charge. And I was just a young kid, starting to edge into college and couldn't even see where my life might someday go.
Sure . . . its very logical, since I've already got two adult kids of my own and the third is right on that edge of college where I was in my memory. But it still seems shocking. Because Dad (even when he was younger and especially when he was older and growing to be "less") . . . he was still . . . Dad.
My inner monologue just doesn't see myself as Dad. Even though I've been one for approaching thirty years now.
It just goes to show you that we are all masters at lying to ourselves.
So, don't lie to yourself this Saturday.
Your participation in today's college football smorgasbord--whether in person or through television--matters not at all. You cannot affect the outcome and your presence in person or in spirit will not be registered by the teams at play.
So do not give it your time.
Do something today where you can tangible affect change.
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