My father drove twice a day every day to visit my mother in the nursing home.
Noon meal.
Evening meal.
He patiently encouraged her to eat. When she wouldn’t feed herself, he fed her. Through them, I watched that final scene of Driving Miss Daisy over and over and over.
Hoke: Looka here. You ain’ eat yo’ Thanksgiving pie. Lemme hep you wid this.
My father gently fed my mother.
He slowly pushed her wheelchair through the halls and for walks in the courtyard, sitting to rest himself as needed.
He held her hand when they sat together.
They were still two-become-one but in smaller ways that were really bigger than the ocean.
When she passed away, even though she had been disappearing in dribs and drabs over so many years, he was lost.
F is for my father, for whom I ache, who is benevolence, who does and does and does, and did and did and did.
His love and devotion for my mother sets the bar high for the rest of us,
Hot Dogs and Marmalade 
Love.
Oh, that’s so sad – but so uplifting at the same time.
A great tribute.
Beautiful! So moving.
That is true love.
So nice to meet you. What a lovely post. Your father sounds like a wonderful man. Thank you for visiting my blog. Happy A to Z!
True love like that gives us hope for the world.
Love like that is definitely eternal. thanks for these intimate snapshots into your sweet family. Gail at Making Life An Art
This is a beautiful story – how blessed you are that you got to see love in action. 🙂
This is so touching and an inspiration for us all.
Stopping by via the AtoZ challenge list. Good luck!
@yenforblue from
Spice of Life!