My fifth lesson learned from my dad was the gift of walking and exercise. My dad lived until the grand age of 95 but 3 years before his death he used to walk 4 miles daily in our neighbourhood. He did this for almost 24 hours without fail.

He loved to get up early to do his meditation and yoga before he would make our morning tea.  Dad was always conscious of his health. He ate food in moderation and was always slim built and whenever we walked together, I was always having to catch up with him. He would say brisk walking is the best. I firmly believe it  was his discipline that kept him in good stead for he never took any medicine, not even after he was diagnosed with prostate cancer.

He gave up smoking one day after someone made a comment and he never smoked again. He maintained a good health but despite that and probably due to life stressors, he had a severe heart attack at the age of 76, that is when he was forced to retire from his business.  I recall my dad telling me how after his colossal heart attack when he nearly died, the doctor told him not to wrap himself in cotton wool ever since, walking became a religion to him come rain or shine he would go for his walk.

Yoga and pranayama (deep breathing exercises) were very important to him so much so that we went to a yoga camp in Bolton. We would set off at 3.30am to drive there and the camp would begin around 5am. We did this for a whole week but after that I gave up, but he didn’t.

He was around 80 when we moved into our new build Town House, and I recall after our shopping my father would climb the stairs like a young man and I would be far behind him such was his energy.

My dad had a minor stroke and became wheelchair bound that made him very frustrated, he lost the use of one arm, but he was determined to walk around the block even if it took him a whole hour to do a walk which he previously did in 10 minutes. He was a very determined man, and stubborn sometimes, now I know where I get these traits from!

On My dad’s 95th birthday I got him 95 gifts of which he got a mobility scooter. I remember one day I came home, and I could not see his wheelchair and realised the scooter was not in the garage either. My heart sank only to then see my father come into our drive looking like a boy racer with sunglasses on and wearing his slippers while riding his mobility scooter, he looked at me and complained the scooter was too slow.  I will end on this funny note.

 

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© DMP