The Pool

My dad became a swimmer in his 50's.  It was after his heart attack that he decided he should get some exercise.  He started swimming, and he swam for the rest of his life.  I mean literally-up to his last days.  As he became more and more sick, he would go swimming in the community pool.  After his lung collapsed, he insisted on trying to swim again, but couldn't do his laps anymore.  But still he insisted on getting in the pool and walking for an hour at a time. I cherish those "walks" we had.  It was quiet, it was just us most of the time.  And we would talk about everything and nothing.  He would just walk back and forth because the water made it so much easier for him, since by then he was having trouble walking.  Even when he needed to be wheeled in a wheel chair because the walk from the car was too much, he still wanted to be there...everyday.

The man walked for an hour in that pool the evening just before he started his slow slip away, it was one of the last things he did.  The man swam, in whatever form he could, until literally - the very end.  I will always marvel at him.  Always.    

So I have decided to jump in and swim a little bit in a dirty raggedy community pool-see glamours lockers above.  Although I can't swim as long as he could, I just feel a little bit closer to him.