Look, Look San, quick!

"Look, look San, quick. There she is again. What a beautiful woman, eh?" I'm doing the dishes at my father's, in his room at the care home. I smile, knowing exactly what he's talking about. For dad's 86th birthday we gave him one of those digital photo frames. That way, from a distance, we can send him the latest snapshots without him having to fuss with an iPhone or iPad. Because that just doesn't work anymore. Calling 112 for your SIM code or to check your voicemail isn't really the best option, let's say.

Every 15 seconds a new photo appears on the screen, great fun. Dad enjoys the (holiday) photos that come in. But honestly? We might just as well have put a single photo on it. Because in that whole slideshow, he's really only waiting for one photo. This photo. Of mum.

Yes. My father is in love again. With my mother. From whom he divorced 14 years ago. Both of them in their 70s at the time. Well, that was quite something. But they kept spending time together. Caring about each other. Groceries at the supermarket, the buy one get one free offers were carefully picked apart together. To the gym. Back then he was still spry. But his head and body are letting him down more and more.

My mother is 87 and fit. But dependent on transport to be able to see my father. So I regularly load her up for a cup of coffee at dad's. They hold each other's hand then. He looks at her, smitten. He grows calm with her. They tell each other how wondrous their first meeting as a nun and a priest was. Grateful for everything they've meant to each other and been through together. They both know that at their age, life can be over all of a sudden. They tell each other that they love each other. That they appreciate each other so much. Everything that wasn't said before. Wasn't discussed. Was never expressed. Maybe things would have turned out differently then? It doesn't matter anymore, either. This is what counts now, despite everything. Their love in this moment. Second love. But different...