I’m sitting in my parents’ home tonight and it’s so quiet. That’s very strange for this house. You see, my dad has stubbornly refused to wear hearing aids for a long time and he’s renowned for his television being set at a volume that allows people in the next suburb to listen in to the latest episode of “River Monsters”.  

But tonight, it’s just me here. My dad is in hospital. He may not return to his Jesmond unit. Time will tell. On my own here there is stillness and silence – and it’s good for me. I’m valuing some time to catch my breath, ponder and reflect.

The empty house reminds me of the ageing journey that none of us can stop. It’s never been the same stepping into this house since my mum died almost four years ago. And my dad’s health continues to decline. He’s 86. He’s had a good innings. And his mind and body are day by day shouting for rest. Doctors told me on Thursday night that he might not make it through major surgery he urgently needed, so a sudden trip to Newcastle was arranged.

In 2020 – amid Covid lockdowns – I never got to make the one last visit I longed for, to see my mum before she died. That was hard. Very hard. And so, I’m thankful for this quick visit to see my dad. As he lay in bed today, selecting his hospital meal options, and complaining about the menu and food quality, I knew my dad – one of the fussiest eaters you will ever meet – was definitely still with us! At least for now and I will cherish the days I have with him as I know none of us can stop the ageing march.

And with that in mind, today I am reminded of the opportunity each of us have to seize and make the most of each day we have breath. Many years back a mentor told me how he had been at a family funeral, and he was struck by the fact that he was now sitting in the “front row”.  He was in the next funeral generation. His mortality was front and centre.

My youngest, Ada, likes to remind that I am an “old Dad” – well at least through the lens of an 11-year-old. Tonight, I am challenged to consider afresh what matters most and am I giving myself fully to these things.

Sitting in an empty house also reminds me of the joy of significant others in my world.

Sadly, too many people experience loneliness and isolation daily. It’s one of our biggest, hidden social ills.  I’m reminded tonight of the tribe that I have in my life – family, friends, colleagues – who stand in my corner, cheer me on, accept me for who I am, forgive me, believe in me and enrich my life with their presence. I’ve spent time today with my older kids today. I will go home to Megan and the younger kids. All of us who know loving community should never take that for granted! And can I encourage you to think about the practical difference we can all make in the lives of those who live alone.

As I left the hospital this evening, I put my hand on my dad’s shoulder and told how much I loved and valued him. I wasn’t expecting a response. I know my dad loves me – I have never doubted that. But he has never been a person to actively express his emotions – verbally or physically. I have learned to live with that, but I would be lying if I said I wished it was different.

In the Scriptures, in the record of Jesus’ baptism, we are told that at this tipping-point moment in Jesus’ life, the Father God reminds his Son of his lavish love. Jesus will move forward in life secure in this reality. With this example in mind, I seek to verbalise my love for that matter most in my life as much as I can. I don’t think you can ever do this too much! But I am also challenged to ask myself tonight, do my actions reflect my words, do I authentically bring those words to life in my behaviour, attitudes, priorities and willingness to sacrifice.

All around me tonight – in the stillness and quietness – are things that remind me of my parents. Photos, memorabilia, furniture, household items – even what is in their fridge and pantry! I am so thankful that I can lean into so many wonderful memories and celebrate the blessing of parents who poured their life into me.

Speaking of pouring, I’ve just poured myself a nice Hunter white. I might just go and switch on the TV, dial up the volume so all of Jesmond can hear the Olympic commentary, and celebrate Kenny – a good dad – and all that I should never take for granted in my life.