Squeezing Every Drop Out of Life

On Wednesday morning, my mother and I drove to Baylor Hospital (Dallas).  My Dad was being released that morning after having had a defibrillator implanted on Tuesday afternoon.  It was a needed device according to his cardiologist to prevent sudden death. 

After he was discharged, we began walking down the third floor hallway toward the elevator.  My Dad was being escorted by a nurse.  My mother and I were walking behind them.  I then began to look at the back of my Dad’s head.  Thin gray and light silver hair.  Kind of messed up where he had been lying on a pillow.  I continued to stare at the back of his head.  I had seen it before. This was my grandfather’s head.

Now I’m thinking back to earlier years.  The last part of the1960’s and the 1970’s.  Seeing my grandfather walk through his house with the same messed up, thin gray, and light silver hair on the back of his head.  He has long since died but not my memory of him in a white tee shirt and those blue jean overalls. He would be walking to the kitchen to get more ice cream (he bought it on sale, he would announce).  I can’t go back to Searcy, Arkansas without being flooded with those memories.

Sometimes time seems to sort of stand still.   There are some nights that are long.  Some days seem to be filled with frustration.  Some years can be difficult.

However, there are decades that seem like a day.  They move quickly.   I look at my brother–a middle aged guy.  My children are young women.  My wife is….just right (you may be reading this 🙂

Meanwhile, what about me?

I’m waiting for the day when I will begin to have the same messed up, thin gray, and light silver hair on the back of my head.

I want to think this will not happen for many years.  I suspect those many years will be here soon.

In the meantime, I want to squeeze every ounce of life from each day.