The Last Word On Nothing

My Dad’s birthday is this weekend, and just as I did last year, I’m going to Albuquerque to celebrate with him. Last year, I drove down the day after my second covid vaccine and it felt like the world was on the verge of returning to normal. 

We celebrated Dad’s birthday last year on the patio of a nice restaurant and Dad and I went on multiple bike rides during my visit. He’d been tracking his mileage with the aim of riding 100 miles each week, and even at age 77 he had the oomph to pedal up the very steep hill back to the house without any thought. 

This year, we won’t be biking on Dad’s birthday. A stroke knocked him down last summer, and he remains unable to use his left side. Mentally, he’s still his old self, but physically he is completely dependent on others (Mom) for Every. Single. Thing. 

Being so physically helpless is a difficult turn of events for my tough fighter pilot dad, but the most remarkable thing about it is how resilient and upbeat he has shown himself to be. There are so many things he can’t do (biking, astronomy, driving his old pickup truck, to name just a few), but he’s focusing on the things he can — read, listen to music, visit with friends. And he’s even taken up a few new pastimes, like watercolor painting. 

When he’s lying in bed, unable to get up and grab a book or look up at the stars, he’ll sometimes close his eyes and recount happy memories from his life. Some nights, he’ll lay in bed recounting all the flights he’s flown. He revisits the places he’s taken off from, the routes he’s navigated from the air, sights he’s seen, runways he’s landed on.  

Some days it breaks my heart to think about all he’s lost, but on others I think about all the friends my age who have lost their fathers and focus instead on how lucky I am to have such a great dad who is still around to tell me stories and share in my life. 

A few years ago when I was busy writing my book and without much time to spare, my dad made a comment that has stayed with me. “You are in the prime of your life right now. You’re busy with your work and your own life and that’s how it should be. I remember that time when I was your age,” he said. 

I think that what he was saying was that our lives have seasons. Dad has entered a new era, and although his physical capacities have diminished, he is as intellectually engaged as ever. If the last few years were his age of physical motion, now is his time to exercise his mind. 

Dad’s mind has always been active, and the fact that he now spends much of his time watching nerdy academics give YouTube lectures on physics and astronomy tells me that he is still totally my dad, as engaged and curious as ever.

We might not be biking up the Grand Mesa together this summer, but we can discuss the latest issues of New Scientist, the new James Webb space telescope and why it’s ok that Pluto is no longer considered a planet. I hope that we’ll even go see an Isotopes baseball game together. I love my dad with all my heart, and I intend to savor every moment we have together.