Two weeks today.  That's how long Richard has been in hospital.  Two weeks and neither of his sons have visited him. 

I couldn't visit Dad when he was dying but flew over to see him when the cards were on the table.  Dad and I were never as close as he was with Tam and we had our problems.  I think he was horrified I'd become like the women he dallied with; promiscuous - that's the word used to describe women, or a wo'man' of the world, if speaking of men.  And I wouldn't come home and 'do the right thing' - like please him, get a career, settle down, marry a nice man.

Except I did marry a nice man and Dad met him and approved so it was a mutually agreed truce - and I think part of him begrudgingly admired me for going it alone and living the life I chose.

As for Mom, no regrets.  I did the best I could, lived my life around visiting and caring for her, as much as she would allow me to anyway. 

I'm a selfish person, self-absorbed, spoiled, wanting to do my own thing when I want to do it.  So I understand the 'boys' reluctance to tear themselves away from comfortable routine to come see him.  Except he's their father and the longer they wait the more distant he becomes.  One day he'll be so far away the strongest love, the closest ties won't reach him.  And that's the memory that will live most strongly in their hearts.  His absence.  And theirs.