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Living with Luke 59

May 30, 2015

I was reminded the other day of the frailty and temporary nature of the human life.

We’re here, if we’re lucky, for about 80-odd years. Some of us manage to live for longer and some of us are sadly taken much earlier.

When I was growing up, my Dad – who is still with us, I hasten to add – was a very fit man.  He played Sunday league football, nearly had a trial for West Ham, and was generally a very healthy human being.  Didn’t smoke, hardly drank, looked after himself pretty well.

Then the passage of time and some of those crunching tackles both given and taken, began to catch up with him.  Knee joints were replaced, back problems plagued him for most of his mid-life, and with all of this of course, his general fitness began to decline.  It wasn’t his fault of course.  Much like my granddad, the spirit was/is willing, but the body has other ideas.  He’s not frail by any means, he’s still willing to have a go, but of course, this just means that he pays for it later on.

I’ve been lucky.  I still have all my own knees.

I’ve managed to avoid the problems that all the other members of my family have inherited from granddad it seems.  If it’s not dodgy knees, then it’s broken legs that have required paper plates and bolts inserted or something like that…Anyhow…

As I said, my Dad is now 70.  He won’t mind me saying that because he doesn’t read these anyway – if it’s not Jack Reacher, then fargeddabowdit…

I’m joking of course – he can’t read…

But 70, is THAT age.  When you realise that you are now stronger than your Dad, the man who used to fling you about in the swimming pool, who used to fling you about in the living room, the man who used to fling you about on the beach…come to think of it, he used to fling us about quite a lot…But anyway, the point I’m making is that knowing that you can now help make his life a little easier, just makes me WANT to take that burden off of him.  Just as he used to tell my granddad – his dad – ‘off’ for lifting heavy stuff, and to leave it to him, I now find that I am doing the same to him.  I don’t want him hurting himself, so I find myself becoming much like most sons when they realise that nothing is forever.

I say ‘most’ sons.  Of course this doesn’t apply to Tiddles.

I was mowing the grass the other day and thought about how i would appear to Tiddles when I am much older.  As stated in previous posts, I fully intend to live until I’m 150 years old, and I think that retiring from playing football has added minutes onto my life span.  I’m actually training harder and more often than I used to, but why?

Simply that I want to be around for him.

The irony of it all of course is that he will never be in the position I find myself in with my dad.  He won’t ever look at me and think, ‘He’s getting older now.  Maybe I should be helping him a bit more…?’  Never going to happen.  He is always going to be oblivious to the ‘obvious’.

I came to the door the other loaded up with bags of shopping.  I looked like a cart horse with saddle bags.  TCMH swears that that is the only reason she married me was because of my ability to carry ALL the shopping in one go.  Anyhow, the window to the living room was open and Tiddles was sat in his usual spot on the sofa and could see me as I walked up to the door.  I couldn’t get my key into the lock because of the bags, and so I said to him through the window,

“Can you open the door?”

“Yes…” he said, and continued to sit there.  He didn’t realise I was asking for help.  As far as he was concerned, all I had done was to ask him if he was able to open a door, which of course he could, and had told me so.  Job done, back to the TV…

So, it’s down to me.  The Eldest Child will be off soon, pursuing his own adventures, and so I need to be able to take care of not only myself by staying fit, but also Tiddles as he gets older as well.

And I need to learn to rephrase requests for doors to be opened too…

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