At 50 my dad was just at the beginning of his serious health problems. I had no idea I would only have 10 more years with him.

Though he could never get the DOD to admit it, and he was still, even after his retirement from the Air Force, a good soldier and refused to push beyond their initial denial, the fact is that his lung problems were the result of his military service in Korea and Vietnam. He had an oxygen tank strapped to him for the last 10 years of his life. He still worked. He still went to Bengals games with my uncle. He still lived his life as best he could. Until he couldn’t.

My mom at 50 had been a widow for 16 years. She was still teaching. Looking back, I don’t know if she considered it so much living as waiting to die. Sometimes I think she still is.