I take care of my eighty-two year old Irish father who can no longer cook for himself but is so hyper critical of every dish set in front of him. When he has visitors he wants to fool into thinking he is OK he cooks steak on a barbecue he rigged up in his shed, which used to be my step-mother’s conservatory. She died six years ago.
Your story reminds me of Dad.
I half expected the husband to find his wife dead when he brought the chops back in so it was a nice surprise to find she was still alive and they could eat a lovely meal together, all arguments forgotten.
I take care of my eighty-two year old Irish father who can no longer cook for himself but is so hyper critical of every dish set in front of him. When he has visitors he wants to fool into thinking he is OK he cooks steak on a barbecue he rigged up in his shed, which used to be my step-mother’s conservatory. She died six years ago.
Your story reminds me of Dad.
I half expected the husband to find his wife dead when he brought the chops back in so it was a nice surprise to find she was still alive and they could eat a lovely meal together, all arguments forgotten.
This feels so true. And very sad.
An excellent story as always, Deryn. Highlights the difficulties of aging, although the alternative is not appealing!