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Carole Townsend

With age comes both privilege and loss

 Note:  This is a version of a piece I wrote in 2013, just a few months before my father passed away at 93 years of age. I thought, in light of present circumstances, it might deserve another look. I have added a few more thoughts, three years after his death. If any of you is caring for an aging  (originally written in January 2013)

Carole Townsend

Merry Christmas to you, Dad

When you’ve lost someone you love, it’s funny how thoughts of that person pop into your head, no matter how long ago you lost him. My dad died in March of last year, at the admirable old age of 93.  Even now, I’ll go to pick up the phone to call him, to share some news with him, and it hits me. I can’t do that anymore. He’s gone.