For eight years, I believed that my father spent every Thursday going to medical appointments, doing his shopping, and having lunch with our neighbor Ben. After my father died, Ben gave me an envelope and said, "He made me promise to tell you where we were really going."
Ten years ago, my father was diagnosed with glaucoma.
When doctors discovered him, the injuries were already very serious. Within two years, he could barely see anything but shadows.
Despite this, no one could convince him to leave his house.
I lived more than 1600 km away.
"The house still smells of your mother's cooking, and there's even that bump in the hallway where you crashed your bike trying to do tricks inside," he said.
“Leaving,” he said, “would be like losing all the forty years I spent with her again.”
I lived over 1600 km away, with two children, a demanding job and married to a woman who was just as ambitious as me.
I needed help.
So we reached an agreement.
Dad could still manage on his own, but he needed regular checkups for his glaucoma and ongoing medical care to ensure the disease did not cause further problems.
Ben, Dad's neighbor, had known our family for decades and had been part of the family for a long time. He was retired and very keen to keep busy.
So we reached an agreement.
For full cooking steps, turn to the next page or click the Open button (>) and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
