My dear dad is 89, sharp as a tack and my mum says he has a head like a rock from his early years playing soccer (lots of time spent heading the ball). This turns out to be a vital asset in later years. Last week he fell down the steps outside a little seaside cottage in Suffolk. He smashed his head on the pavement and bled so profusely that he was rushed to hospital and kept in overnight. My mum sat vigil beside him fearing the worst. He had a mini internal bleed, which resulted in a purply-black mark that looks like a black eye. But a day later he drove the 100 miles or so home. And today he spotted that my sis’ had booked a rental car with a company that got dismal online ratings. ‘So there is nothing wrong with your brain then dad,’ I joked when he called up for my opinion.
I have a pet theory about why dad is so fit and alert at nearly 90. My mum would say it is years of her healthy home cooking. My theory is that it is also years of doing little things he enjoys everyday. He really does live the Abraham Hicks way. Each morning he does a little shopping (so he can socialize and get a free coffee from the store). He spends another couple of hours out in the garden, digging, planting and puttering around in his shed (which my sis and I refer to as his ‘man cave’). And he and my mum go on daily walks to their favorite spots and take tea every afternoon at 4.30pm.
Vacations are a big part of his life (and I seem to have inherited that gene). Even when we were very little and it was rare for families to travel abroad, mum and dad were always taking us out of school for a few weeks vacation in Portugal, Spain, Italy or France, whereas our school friends went dragging around rainy Britain in caravans or rented damp cottages on the English coast. And while dad eats healthily (thanks to mum), he isn’t a health fiend. If he has a cold, he uses his favorite Scotch remedy, ‘a little whisky to kill the bacteria’. Oh and apparently Lindt’s 85% dark chocolate has very curative powers too.