525,600

8,760

365.

The number of seconds, the number of minutes, the number of hours.

The number of days since my father died.

The number of days I’ve been out of the sandwich generation.

The number of days I haven’t received a frantic phone call about my father falling, feeling ill, being rushed to the hospital.

The number of days I haven’t had to fight with insurance companies, the VA, the nursing home.

The number of days since I had to drive two hours each way to pick up some water, some pop, or denture adhesive.

The number of days since he and I talked about his wife of over 45 years, my mom Toby who died a few years earlier.

The number of days since I bought him his big juicy cheeseburger from Red Robin, the place I bought lunch at every two weeks when I drove to see him in Cincinnati.

The number of days since I had to use my Power of Attorney and Health-care Power of Attorney to make decisions that no child should ever have to make.

The number of days since I heard him laugh.

The number of days since I saw him cry.

The number of days since he asked me if I was “living my dreams”, and changed my life.

I know my folks are watching over me, laughing at my jokes, crying over my pain, prodding me when I feel low, congratulating me on my third book and two new businesses.  I know they are proud of me, my brother, and our families.

And I miss them both every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month.  I smile more these days when I think about them, the tears are fewer, the feeling of loss lessens over time.

And now, when I hear my dad ask me that life-changing question, I know that both of my folks know the answer…  I am now.

Perhaps there is no greater gift that a parent can give to a child.  Even when the child is 46 years old.