I'll never see my dad grow old.
Sorry, I didn't mean to shock you or make you feel uncomfortable. But that is a fact that I've pondered many times recently.
My dad died unexpectedly on October 14, 1997. He was only 67 and still active and enjoying life. My memory of him was always as a low-key yet active guy. For me, that last snapshot of him from 1997 will be how I think of him for all time as there is no new data coming in.
It was the farthest thing from my mind when he died, but lately, through my wife and others, I've seen the emotions that come with watching a father become frail. And the thought has come to me that, for better or worse, I'll never experience that.
For some reason I find it a kind of heavy reality that this, quite normal, experience that most people will have, I will never have. That's just the fact of it.
Pondering 'never' has always been weighty for me.