Yesterday, we had to say goodbye to an old friend. He’s been rather ill in recent months and has struggled through this latest visit with commendable dignity, while suffering considerable amounts of pain. It was a quiet, emotional moment of parting. Hopefully an au revoir, or a 再見, rather than anything more final.
It’s never easy saying goodbye at the end of a visit. Indeed, each time I have to leave the UK after spending some time with the family, there is a element of having to take the grim pragmatic approach. It may be the last time I give dad a hug or hold mum in my arms. Added to this is the feeling of guilt that I have given them our grandchildren so late in life, although this is countered by the reality that the little cherubs won’t have been such a huge drain on their respective wallet and purse.
To be fair, guilt is probably not the correct term. I have never felt it was my duty (as the only son), nor was I ever under any kind of pressure to continue the family name. I suppose the fact that they have had new life running around the house for extended periods over the last six or seven years has actually helped bring some meaning to their twilight years. Yes, that’s it. It has helped*. Now I’m feeling rather smug. I did that. You’re welcome.
Back to the point. We are due to be re-united with our old friend in the summer, assuming that this world health scare has been managed and contained, and we can pass through Hong Kong and Abu Dhabi unmolested. Hang in there, old chap. Plenty of rest can work wonders. Just lay off the karate (or is it judo?) for a bit until you can find an effective nipple guard.
*Views of parents may differ.
2020 - A Year of Perfect Vision 