So Much Older Then

“Why do men die before women?”

“Because they want to.”

It’s an old joke but very truthful, for yesterday afternoon I visited my father in an Alzheimer’s hospice. My father was the only male in the renovated mansion. The rest of the residents are women. No one has any idea where the hell they are.

“I know you.” My father greeted my entrance with a smile. “You’re my son.”

He can’t remember my older brother and I asked him why.

“Because you still look like you used to look.”

I laughed at this comment and spent about an hour with my father. He asked the same questions over and over. My older brother is upset by my father’s condition. I am too, since I never had an intention of surviving my 30s and somehow I have outlasted the my-contemporaries, who succumbed to James Dean’s edict of ‘live fast and die young’.

As we left my father’s home, I told my brother-in-law, “If I tell you to get my pills, get my suicide bag.”

“Better get the stash now. Who knows if we can find it once we get older.”

The answer will be no, so we’ll have to make plans for that step into eternity.

Sooner better than later.

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