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Listening

I visited with my parents after work on Monday. Much of our conversation before Dinner as we sat in the living room and even during dinner was a rehash of everything we discussed on our phone call the night before--only with tidbits of Olympics information and my Mom's bridge group peppered here and there. That's how talks with my Dad have been for the past few years. At first I would mention that Mom told me already, which made him hesitate with the next bit of information. I could see my Dad trying to remember if he'd already told me about his friend John going into the hospital or how food the fish and chips were at this restaurant down at the harbor.


It's a terrible habit of mine, correcting him like that. I admit that oftentimes I'm not the most patient person (which probably explains some other things I've noticed about myself). After his accident a few years ago, his memory isn't quite what it used to be. He repeats stories about last night's dinner or the movie he watched on HBO, but it took me some time to notice that he enjoys having someone other than my Mom to talk to about his day, so I finally curbed the correcting. The Listening is more important, anyway.


This post first appeared on A Life In The Day, please read the originial post: here

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