The Seventh Age of Man

Two weeks ago my brother in law, my grandfather, and I went on a bit of a field trip - or rather, we tried to. We had hoped that Grampa would enjoy his first helicopter ride and a nice tour of New York City from above, but unfortunately my poor grandad, aged 90 and over 6 feet tall with bad knees, though able to get into the 'copter just didn't fit once he got settled. After failing to find a way to make it work, Shayne and I went up without him and though we had fun, we felt unfulfilled and we knew my Grampa was disappointed. He had been looking forward to one more adventure, and we wanted to give it to him.

Today my family and I spent the day in the hospital, watching over him and ruminating on the frailty of the flesh. He's stable and may recover, but recover to once again be a 90+ year old man - a condition that doesn't improve over time.

Recently when a woman I was dating asked me what kind of man I strove to be I answered without hesitation: my Grampa. Unfortunately for me (and for the women I date) I'm nowhere close, though I won't stop trying.