He shuffles when he walks—the man of confidence, now trapped in a crippling body. I never wanted this day to come. Old age perpetuates some of his losses. But I blame the stroke for most of his changes. I want Dad back. His strength carried me through my awkward years, while his consistency made him my rock. Now, with lost eyes, he turns to me for direction.
Simple mathematics elude my childhood tutor. He knew exactly how to solve math problems, instructing me better than any mathematician. He could bring clarity to my mind and wipe away the tears of frustration. Now, Dad carries defeat, but I don’t know how to lift it away as he did for me.
Dad can no longer drive. This removed his freedom, chipping away at his mental well-being. He now depends on others when we used to rely on him.
Why must aging steal Dad? How do we navigate the scary changes that take away his abilities and leave behind an empty shell?
Stooping, Dad slowly walks, and our lives will never be the same.
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Robbing Dad
by Stephanie Daich
