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It isn't.

It is a concern that's sprouted prematurely - something not many people my age would have to so fervently worry about. And to say at the very least, it terrifies me. It makes me tremble. It makes me opt for disbelief. It is scary.

My father is a humble man; a traditional man; an absolutely, hard-working man; but an ageing man. He's denied for several years that his health hasn't been deteriorating, but it has. Evidently so. And as the years blink by, my fear swells. He is, in every respect, living well - not suffering disease or illness. But the flags of his deteriorating health are rising. It scares me.

It makes me question endlessly of the possibilities:

Will he see me graduate?

Will he get to walk me down the aisle?

Will he get to bear witness of his grandchildren?

Will he care for my mother for long?

How long?

How soon?

When?

It is a concern that someone my age should not have to worry so much about. But I need to face the weight of this reality. Not so much believing it will happen soon, so I must dictate my attention to that every day. No. 

It is making me even more aware of how important my father is to me. He has sacrificed so much - his ambitions, his time, his money, his home, his world - for my family. He is the strongest person I know, with an unquenchable drive to make sure his family is happy, healthy and well. 

Though I can never repay him the depth and extent in his acts of love, care and selflessness, I will make sure from hereon, that I will invest more time for him. To help him wherever I can. To be his nurse and his carer. To shower him with infinite love. To thank him endlessly. To be with him. Everything, for him. Needlessly to say, the same for my beloved mother as well. Always.

There is always an emotional toll when I think of these thoughts. But I'm thankful that I am reminded of how much appreciation I have for my parents.

Anne xo