I Love That My Parents Had Their Last Cup Of Coffee Together

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Abstract

Once I had the taste for iced coffee, I decided to upgrade and try Starbucks. I went with a hot mocha coffee. I found I enjoyed this too. And it became my favorite go-to drink.But my favorite part of coffee was the first day I walked into my parent’s house carrying my hot cup of Jo and was able to sit down with my parents and enjoy a cup of coffee with them. Something about it spoke of being a grown-up and having arrived.They lamented that I wasn’t drinking real coffee because mine was full of sugar, but I didn’t care. I was having coffee with my parents for the first time, which meant something — I was an adult.We enjoyed coffee together many more times over the years. Mom and Dad always had their coffee every morning even when mom went on hospice.It was an unfortunate turn of events that my dad suffered a spinal cord injury not long after my mom went into hospice tearing him away from being able to be with her in her final days. We however made the best of it and broke him ou # Options t of the skilled care facility as often as possible to bring him home to visit with her.I still remember the day. Mom was not quite with it. But could still kind of recognize people and make small noises. She was able to sip a drink too. We wheeled my dad’s wheelchair up close to the bed and he said, “Make me and your mom some coffee.”I did. One black. One with a splash of milk. The latter is in a small sippy cup to make it easier for mom to get down.I remember sitting there. Her cup on a tray was practically forgotten as he drank his. He held her hand and just enjoyed her presence.I couldn’t help but think he needed this sense of normalcy. The morning coffee that the two of them always had. Even if it was just a shred of what it once was.I believe that was the last time they ever really had coffee together.I love that my parents had their last cup of coffee together at a time when nothing seemed normal. It’s a memory I will always cherish.</article></body>

A story of my parents, and drinking coffee every day for 54 years

Growing up my parents would drink coffee every morning. Dad took his coffee black and mom took her coffee with a splash of milk. It was the same every day.

As I got older I always thought I hated the taste of coffee, till one day I had to go to work on a Saturday at 6 a.m. I stopped by a Tim Hortons and they had a brownie iced coffee drink that was new so I decided to give it a try. It was delicious and I was immediately hooked on this new iced drink. I ended up going to Tim Hortons several times in the next month as I headed to work.

Once I had the taste for iced coffee, I decided to upgrade and try Starbucks. I went with a hot mocha coffee. I found I enjoyed this too. And it became my favorite go-to drink.

But my favorite part of coffee was the first day I walked into my parent’s house carrying my hot cup of Jo and was able to sit down with my parents and enjoy a cup of coffee with them. Something about it spoke of being a grown-up and having arrived.

They lamented that I wasn’t drinking real coffee because mine was full of sugar, but I didn’t care. I was having coffee with my parents for the first time, which meant something — I was an adult.

We enjoyed coffee together many more times over the years. Mom and Dad always had their coffee every morning even when mom went on hospice.

It was an unfortunate turn of events that my dad suffered a spinal cord injury not long after my mom went into hospice tearing him away from being able to be with her in her final days. We however made the best of it and broke him out of the skilled care facility as often as possible to bring him home to visit with her.

I still remember the day. Mom was not quite with it. But could still kind of recognize people and make small noises. She was able to sip a drink too. We wheeled my dad’s wheelchair up close to the bed and he said, “Make me and your mom some coffee.”

I did. One black. One with a splash of milk. The latter is in a small sippy cup to make it easier for mom to get down.

I remember sitting there. Her cup on a tray was practically forgotten as he drank his. He held her hand and just enjoyed her presence.

I couldn’t help but think he needed this sense of normalcy. The morning coffee that the two of them always had. Even if it was just a shred of what it once was.

I believe that was the last time they ever really had coffee together.

I love that my parents had their last cup of coffee together at a time when nothing seemed normal. It’s a memory I will always cherish.