Superbowl Sunday, my 84-year-old father-in-law, Chuck, could not have cared less about the game, the ads, or the halftime show. All he wanted to do was get to Grandvue to be with the love of his life.
On the way there, he looked off across Lake Charlevoix where they've spent thousands of hours together since they were teens and he said, "I don't get it. Women feel such pressure to look young, to cover up their age. I look at Kay, every wrinkle; every single one, is so beautiful. I look at her and she's so beautiful. Her wrinkles are part of her. It's how she's supposed to look at this age. She's never been more beautiful."
I couldn't speak for a long time.
Today, Kathy pointed out a wrinkle on her own beautiful face and I remembered that I hadn't told her that story yet. Dad would be the first to acknowledge that enlightened might not be the first adjective others would use to describe him, but on this, Dad, you are such light in the darkness.
Here's a photo from our last big trip together. Much to Dad's chagrin and Mom's delight, we were at a French restaurant in Edinburgh. That look on the faces of both of these strong woman. Trouble. Of the best kind. And so much "this is who I am" beauty. Thanks, Dad! Every wrinkle; every single one.