(5 of 5)
In my world, I see lots of old men in worse condition, half crazy, living on the streets, abandoned by their families. I don't loathe my dad anymore. I cry a lot. Sitting down to a margarita and a beer (nonalcoholic these days) at El Torito with him again recently, I felt forlorn and, oddly enough, lucky too. Lucky to have discovered late in life how to love all over again. I only wish he could understand the wonderful gift he's given me.