Dad has turned 82, and today is his last day of trading

Actually, he was supposed to retire on January 1, but he just couldn’t help himself. Breaking away from a daily routine that has lasted for over 60 years is not something that can be done overnight. Our small family workshop is in the same location that it was in 1951 when the first generation Hacko commenced the watchmaking business. Dad will retire on a monthly pension of 300 Euros. Which is plenty for a man who barely needs anything. Being the oldest son, it is now my duty to provide for mum and dad. In return, I am also expected to take over the family shop and continue the trade - closing the shop down or renting it out would be disgrace and an insult to our family name. This is going to be quite the challenge, considering that the shop is located 18,000 km away from Sydney. The transition itself is exactly as expected: painful. I had to call mum last night with the firm demand that dad hands over the keys immediately, without further delay. My younger brother has already organised an electrician, plumber and painter; so the stock has to be put in storage, and bench tools taken home. At 82, dementia is slowly creeping in. He has no hobbies; he does not have a pet. While he is still fine behind the work bench, he struggles with basic stuff: unsure of the day of the week, or who is related to whom. He is stubbornly unwilling to do even basic bookkeeping or keep a social distance, or wear a mask. A few weeks ago, on the way to work, he fell off his pushbike and bruised himself badly, yet failed to tell mum about the accident. "So I wouldn't be even allowed to stop by the new shop? And who is going to do all the repairs?" - he asks over and over again. Right now, I have no answers to his questions. What has to be done, has to be done, and done sooner rather than later. Time waits for no one.  [to be continued...]