I am in a quandary about my life, I am coming up to the age, 62, an age at which my own father died, 32 years ago. I remember my brother saying that he was relieved to get passed that age barrier and I now know what he means. The thought has crept up on me since becoming 61, but has intensified since June 28th this year when I became nearer the age 62 than 61.
Father never had a chance to retire from work, he was involved in WW2 and both him and mum had modest lives. They had rationing to deal with and although we were well clothed and fed, I became aware that life was a struggle for them. Then before dad had time to take time out, he liked gardening, his life was taken away due to illness.
They had a caravan (a kind of mobile home) their only luxury, and when my dad was failing through ill health a large storm blew up and threw their caravan in the air bringing it crashing down and smashing into pieces, along with others. I could never understand why God would allow that to happen to people who had so little to begin with. There was nothing that could be done but to collect the bits up and throw them away, dad was never going to visit that caravan again.
And so dad, I’m nearly at where you were, and I haven’t a clue as to how this will turn out, all I know that, hopefully on my 62nd birthday I will be thinking about you, and mum, as I always have, and take it from there.