Listener Chitra Sivasankar from India shared a very touching video on his Facebook Wall. Maybe you’ve seen it?

It’s a video of an old man asking his grown son several times “What is that?” The first time the son responds, “A Sparrow”. The son gets progressively impatient with the father. Eventually he explodes at him, “Dad, It’s a s-p-a-r-r-o-w. Can’t you get it?” The father looks at his son and tells him to wait. He then goes inside to get something. He returns with an old journal and asks the son to read it–aloud. The son reads the entry, “My three year old son and I went to the park today. We saw a sparrow. He asked me 21 times “what is it?” Each time I told him, “a sparrow”. I hugged him every single time he asked me the same question, without getting mad feeling only affection for my innocent little boy.” Of course, the son then realizes what a jerk he was and hugs his Dad.

It’s a great little clip. [Added clip below September, 2014]

My kids are now 6 (twins) and are in the why, why, why phase. I always try to answer every one until they get tired of asking. I do it because my Dad taught me how important it is to have patience and take the time to explain. I still remember him being VERY PATIENT with me as a young child–always answering my repetitious Why, Why Why questions. When other parents would have gotten frustrated, my Dad kept answering. I asked him once why he did that. He said, “Because you asked and that’s the way you learn”.

My Dad is now 89. He had a stroke last year and now has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease (AD). Yet, when I am with my Dad and he doesn’t remember something, I get impatient. I get frustrated. I love my Dad. I love my Dad very much. Sometimes I think it’s because I love him so much and respect him so much that I can’t stand that he isn’t who he used to be. I am frustrated, not with him, but with the cruel circumstances of his life. I get frustrated because, in a way, I feel like I’ve already lost my Dad.

The psychologist told our family that we have to talk to differently to our Dad now. That my Dad can’t process complex commands or thoughts. My Dad was a very smart man. An RCA electrical engineer his whole life. He was also witty and extremely kind-hearted.

Now, he struggles to read first grade reader to my kids. He struggles to maintain a conversation. He believes people are conspiring against him. He gets angry and emotional. Something he never was before. The psychologist suggested we talk to him like he is a child and it breaks my heart. I don’t want to talk to my Dad that way. It feels so disrespectful. Yet, I know that it’s best for Dad, if I talk with him in the manner we have been directed.

He always told us that one day we would be the parents and he would be the child. That we would have to make decisions for him. That we would need to dress and feed him. I knew these days were coming. I’ve been thinking about it my whole life, but somehow that doesn’t make it any easier.

When my Dad asks me, What is that? Over and over again. I remind myself of the countless hours that he listened to me and answered my questions. The hours upon hours that my Dad helped me with my homework, the hours and hours he rubbed my head when I had a headache, or my stomach when I had a stomach ache. He once told me that being a good parent was the ability to walk the fine line between parent and friend. He was a great parent. And I miss my friend. I miss our conversations, I miss his advice, I miss my Dad. And then I remind myself that I am lucky to still be able to hug him and to tell him that I love him. I have to remind myself that we all can feel love, and that’s what he needs right now.

September 13, 2014  (added video clip)

Since I wrote that post my Dad has died.  In fact, he died a few years ago.  I miss him very much.