Mark Twain once said “When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years. ”

I can relate. My Dad was not ignorant. Neither was Twain’s. But there was a time in my life when I was sure that I knew it all. I was certain that my Dad and other authority figures were just old fogies bent on preventing me from having any fun. And, like Twain, as I grow older, I realize just what my Dad was trying to do – to help me, to protect me and to shield me from some of the pain and trouble that he encountered in his youth.

This past November my Dad celebrated his 82nd birthday. I’ve seen a lot of changes in my Dad over the years. He was always healthy, strong, loving and kind. But recently he’s started to age quite a bit. And I am not dealing with it very well. I left my boyhood home in Indiana in 1977 and moved to Arizona. I’ve been here ever since. There were a few years when I had very little contact with my parents. I am ashamed to say that it wasn’t their fault at all. It was mine. As the years clicked off the calendar, I began to realize that I was missing out on my parents’ “golden years”. Mom has struggled with various health issues over the past 20 years or so. But Dad has always been the rock. He’s been strong, in good health, and has always managed to keep the family in touch with each other.

Over the years I have started going “home” to visit. I try to make it back there at least once each year. And as my parents age, I always leave wondering if it’s the last time I will see them alive. I’ve been blessed to have parents who have lived into their 80s. Many people are not so fortunate. I don’t take this blessing lightly, and over the past ten years or so, I have managed to reconnect totally with my parents and can call them “friends” as well as parents.

In early February Dad put together a surprise party for Mom’s 80th birthday. I made arrangements to be there, and Dad spun the story of my visit just enough to satisfy Mom’s curiosity, but not so much as to spoil the surprise party. So I made it there for the big surprise, and Mom was none the wiser. We had a good, albeit short visit of about 5 days. As always, I left with the ever growing concern that it might be the last time that I saw them.

A few days later I got a call from my sister telling me that Dad was in the hospital. He was having trouble getting his breath, and after some tests, the doctors diagnosed his condition as pneumonia. After a few days, Dad wasn’t getting any better, so more tests were done. Long story short, Dad is struggling with his health. Dad smoked as a young man – for about 25 years. Just over 40 years ago he gave it up “cold turkey”. He also worked construction – and he worked with materials like asbestos and similar building materials that have since been deemed dangerous, and even banned from use today. A few years back he was diagnosed with a “small spot” of emphysema… then COPD… and most recently, pulmonary fibrosis. All of these conditions make breathing more difficult, yet Dad never seemed to have any real problems breathing. Until now. Dad is now in a “long term acute care facility” while the doctors try to sort out the current set of problems. The pneumonia is “almost gone” according to the doctors, but Dad is having trouble keeping his oxygen saturation levels up. And I am scared. I am afraid that for the first time in my life, I may have to face the day without the man who has taught me quite a bit about life – some of it under extreme duress (mine). I may have to face the day without the man who I call “friend” along with “Dad”. And I am terrified.

And there’s one more thing that I have to “get off my chest”. If you smoke, you’re stupid. If you used to smoke and stopped, thank you. If you are still smoking, please don’t be an idiot. Quit today. It’s the best gift you can give your family.