This is the fourth volume in the Jack Friedman Trilogy.
I know, right? But I needed to do one more.
When my father was 89, Gregory, my son, asked him, "How much longer do you think you'll live, Grandpa?"
"Seven years."
He kept his word. He died at 96.
My father lied about his age, making himself out to be . . . older. When he was 93, he would tell people he was "pushing" 94; when he turned 95, he was "pushing" 100. His logic: if they thought he was older than he was, they'd think he was an even better-looking man in even better shape.
As I was editing this, I'd see the months of this last year - August, September, October - and think, "He's going to be dead in three months . . . two months . . . in a week. Tell him you love him again."
I always knew my father wouldn't be "pushing" the years forever. I just didn't think he would die.
This is that last year.
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Parenting & Relationships