She turned 92 last week.
As I talked with her, I realized even more how bittersweet it is to age. She never intended to live that long. She wanted to go fast and much earlier. She is not hoping for many more years. Apart from arthritis, she is quite healthy and she definitely has all her head. She still beats my mom at Scrabble weekly! But she is waiting. Filling time. Couting the years that keep on coming...
For a 35 year old, it feels terribly sad. But I know that for her, it's not.
My dad shared images and
stories from his last trip. He described the streets of Lisbon and the
houses on the coasts of Porto and we could almost see them. She listened,
soaking in the goodness of having us all there with her at the table.
The people she loves. Her only family left.