I just experienced a things-that-make-you-go-hmmm moment that yielded an important Dad-apoint.

It occurred to me that perhaps the same timepiece that is informing my current planning and perspective at age 51, probably guided Dad’s view on his gerifuture back in his day. See, Dad’s dad — my sweet Grandaddy (pictured above second from right, isn’t he handsome???) — died suddenly at the age of 65, I believe, when I was three. My father was in his early 30s at the time. And this may be precisely why my father was always more in “live it up” mode as he aged, never expecting to be older than his pops, and thus — why plan (??!!), because, sure seems there isn’t much man-of-the-family-ing to do after 65. This may be why his response to our worried queries about his financial, medical and future stability was always “I’m fine, it will all work out.” No specifics of grand planning were ever shared with us because — hello ?!? — why the hell would you worry about all that boring baloney if dads don’t live much past 65? Dur.

Now on my own doomsday parent clock, the one that explodes on December 17 midway through my 51st year, I understand Dad’s thinking a little more. And maybe this understanding can help me design a more realistic structure in my post-December 17 existence. Dad’s life didn’t end at age 65 like his father’s did. It went on another 15 or more years! During that time, he was at the center of many fond family memories and milestones. He stirred a lot of good. His life was robust and happy — even though he wasn’t planning or expecting much for his future.

He is an example that all this parental doomsday thinking, while relatable and logical, is really just — malarky. There’s living to do, especially when we expect and grand plan for it.