My grandmother moved into a nursing home. When she first said she was going, I thought the sky might fall. My mind was a tangle of worries — how would her absence feel, how would my mom cope, would she be okay there. It broke my heart knowing my mom carried all of it while I wasn’t there to help. And somehow, in all of it, I’d forgotten something obvious: while my grandmother was getting older, so were my parents.
I’m the kind of daughter who takes a picture every time I see my 97-year-old grandmother — quietly aware that the days are numbered. So when I had to stop by my son Ian’s middle school near my parents’ place today, running into my dad out front felt like a small miracle.
I was so happy to see him.
“Dad! Oh my gosh, Dad!”
I threw open the parasol I’d been carrying and pulled him into a hug.
“I spotted you from far away and thought — that has to be Park Eunyoung!”
Ever since I took up running, my skin has taken a hit from sun damage. Two summers ago I started carrying a parasol everywhere. So I’d completely missed him coming my way — only recognized him when he was right in front of me.
Classic Dad style: effortless, unbothered. Comfortable sneakers, a plaid button-down, long pants, a light summer jacket. And to top it all off, on this blazing hot day — a pink baseball cap.
“Dad, you look so cool.”
He’s always worn bright colors, but a pink cap? I wanted to ask where he got it — then thought better of it. Some things are better left as part of the mystery that is my dad.
“Where are you headed?”
“Ian’s school has a reading club meeting today — I’m going in!”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep!”
Dad’s been retired for years now, but he keeps himself wonderfully busy — hanging out with friends at their little hideout, staying active, and cooking up a storm. (He’s actually a great cook.) He was heading the same direction anyway, so I didn’t even ask where he was going. We just said goodbye and parted ways.
And the moment we did, I felt it — that small ache of missed chances.
I should have taken a picture with him. Like I always do with Grandma.
I think I’ve been so focused on my grandmother’s age that I stopped noticing my parents aging right alongside her. Every day with Grandma feels precious and fleeting. Why hadn’t I been holding onto days with my parents the same way?
I regretted it the second he walked away.
So instead of calling him back, I quietly raised my phone and took a photo of his back — my wonderful dad in his blue plaid outfit and that pink cap, growing smaller down the sidewalk.
Next time, I’ll make sure we take one together.
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