
My Hungarian grandmother

Man, the crown of creation
My father is a stranger to me

I took this picture after my bi-weekly visit with my father. A boring picture, only meant as a background to my musings.
My father is now a helpless old man who barely speaks and has become very weak. He can no longer be mobilized and has to be swaddled.
I am kind to him, perhaps even warm, simply because he is so helpless. This apparently triggers certain reflexes, just like a helpless baby does.
But to be quite clear, this man lying in front of me now is a stranger to me.
Apart from his helplessness and his joy at my being there and the attention he receives, nothing in me speaks for him. Apparently that's enough.
I don't even understand why I visit him.
It's certainly not my love for him.
And then I remember the father I once had.
And I get angry at this man who no longer exists.