Rock Collector
Thursday, April 3rd, 2008 
My father is dying. These words are the first thing in my head every morning when I wake up now. Six months ago, I awoke to “my mother is dying” rolling around in my head each morning. In a short time, I’ll be parentless. I don’t want to say I’ll be an orphan because, really, I won’t be. I think of an orphan as a waif, a helpless child. No, I had 44 years with two amazing parents, and while so many of my friends have told me of sad, loveless, even horrific childhoods, I was so blessed. And even though I’m all grown up, I’m just not ready for that parental blessing in my life to stop.
Forty-four years isn’t enough. Most people my age have parents in their sixties. But mine were already approaching middle age when I was born. My sisters and brother got to have our parents longer — 55, 6o years. But I had them to myself. My siblings had quantity of time, but I had quality of time. By the time I was eight, the youngest of my older sisters had married, and I was suddenly an only child in a very large family. I had the best of both worlds. Unlimited personal time with my parents and center-stage attention from my adult sisters and brother. (more…)