FUN AND FROLIC
Golf
Dad loved to play golf. After he came to live with us, he kept asking when we were going to go golfing. At first I thought, "You've got to be kidding." Then I thought, if it kills him, what a way to go. So I said, "Dad, if you can hit 30 balls in the golf cage without keeling over, then I'll take you golfing." He hit 30 balls. We went golfing.
I took him to Bay View Golf Course (par 3) in Kaneohe, Hawaii, where they gave us a "handicapped" flag for our golf cart. That allowed us to drive on the fairway right up to the ball rather than stay on the cart path. All Dad had to do was to get out of the cart, hit the ball, and get back in. We took our time and played 9 holes. He was so thrilled, he thought he had died and gone to heaven.
 During the last few months of Dad's life, he was too weak to get out of the cart, much less swing the club, but we went anyway. Even though I was the only one playing, he was happy just to be riding around on the golf course. The sun was shining, the palm trees were waving, the grass was green. Life was good. When we finished the 9 holes, he asked, "Who won?" In his mind, he had just finished playing golf! I wasn't going to rain on his parade. "Well, Dad, you had the lowest score." MORE>
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