I don't want to be a grown-up

Today was one of those days where I had arranged to go into the local market town with my Dad. He drives us in as I don't drive (could everyone nag me into taking lessons please in comments as it makes so much sense for me to do so and I keep bottling it!).

I had things to collect from the charity shop as did not have enough money on me at the weekend so had put some stuff on hold. I won't say what as I may need them for #Magpie Monday inspiration at some point. Suffice to say, the bags and boxes were very bulky and I handed over a large amount of cash.

Dad helped mw with my packages back to the car and then we hit our coffee shop for our usual two large cafe lattes. We chatted about all manner of things from communication problems with foreigners to puppies.

He headed off to the supermarket whilst I returned to the charity shop on another MagpieMonday expedition. I have challenged particpants with a theme for next week so now need to find something that makes me laugh in a charity shop. I bought way too much including .... well that can wait till Monday's post. My mum always said you should never put all your goods in the shop window - mind you, that is probably what resulted in me being a virgin so long Anyway, I digress.

I finished my charity shop haul and went to meet Dad in the supermarket car park. He was in a mess having thrown up all over the car and his clothing. He had a tummy issue yesterday too but had felt well enough to set off this morning (or more likely did not want me missing out on my trip into the big wide world). He said he had felt dizzy earlier so we took a trip straight home so he could relax and I could try to nag him into seeing a doctor.

I got nowhere so I emailed my brother. My Dad always listens to my brother so is now on his way to the GP for an emergency appointment. Don't start! He is 83 years of age and served in the war - he is worthy of an emergency appointment.

I feel relieved that he is going to get some advice. But there is a voice inside me screaming that I hate being grown up. I hate not knowing how much I should intervene in Dad's life. Torn between respecting him hugely and wanting to respect his wish for independence but also caring about him so deeply too.

Losing Mum 18 months ago showed me that the worst does happen and I guess it will with Dad and perhaps sooner than later. But not yet, please! I still need someone to talk sense into me, to laugh at my foibles, to love me 100% no matter what.

I hate being a grown-up! I want to be on the way to the seaside in the back of my Mum and Dad's car dreaming of what my life might hold. Why does that go away so fast?