But my mother had refused to follow him properly.
“I was very stubborn,” he admitted. After a few weeks of feeling better, I was beginning to convince myself that I was fine again.
My father sat quietly next to him.
One night I got so bad that Robert himself took me carrying the car.
I looked at my father.
My mother continued:
When I came home from the hospital, I asked him to promise me something.
What?
His voice trembled.
“I said, ‘If I try to convince you again that a single bite won’t hurt me, don’t listen to me. Even if I get angry. Even if at that moment I tell you that I hate you, don’t let me do it.”
I couldn't say a word.
My father finally spoke:
“Since then, I became the bad guy in the family.
But even that wasn't the whole story.
For thirty years, my father learned to prepare meals that fit my mother's medical needs.
Before going to restaurants, I called in advance.
Before each family reunion, I spent hours in the kitchen preparing a separate version of the same dish for her, so that she would never feel excluded.
And they had hidden all that from us.
“Why?” I whispered.
My mother smiled.
“Because I didn’t want you kids to see me like I was sick.
The doctor closed the folder.
“I want to make one thing clear,” he said. Restrictions like these should always be based on medical indications, not being imposed by a spouse. But these records show that his father didn't make up those rules. He was helping his mother follow the treatment plan his medical team had given her.
My mother took my father's hand.
“For thirty years, I sometimes got angry with him.
My father let out a soft laugh.
“Sometimes” is a very generous word.
My mother laughed too.
Then he said:
“But I’m still here.
Two weeks later, we celebrate their 58th wedding anniversary.
That night, my father placed a small box in front of my mother.
She opened it.
Inside was a small roll specially prepared according to a prescription approved by his doctor.
After his most recent analysis, his specialist had told him that he could safely test a small amount of that particular version.
My mother looked at him for a long time.
