Life lessons

When I was a little boy, I loved watching my dad shave-it seemed like the most manly thing in the world. Many years later, I was the one shaving my dad as he suffered through a decade with Alzheimer's disease. It was then that I realized the multiple ways in which many of us eventually become our parents' protectors. Here is just one of the many father-son love stories I have witnessed over my nearly four decades as a rabbi. It is as profound and beautiful as any love story I know.
"Rabbi, do you make house calls?" Mike wanted to know, adding, "It's cancer-please."
I visited the next day. "Dad, the rabbi is here!" Mike shouted over his shoulder. "Go ahead, Rabbi. He's in the living room."
I found Bud* in gray sweatpants and T-shirt, gaunt, with no idea who I was. "Bud, I'm the rabbi. I am here to help," I said.
Bud slowly rotated his head in my direction, locked in on me, and whispered, "I have to take a crap."
"Mike, your dad has to go to the bathroom," I said timidly. Mike sighed and headed toward the living room.
"OK, Dad," Mike said, "arms around my neck. Put 'em up there. That's right. Now hold on. One, two, three, up we go!" Mike carefully lifted Bud off the couch so they were face-to-face. With Bud's fingers laced behind Mike's neck and Mike's arms around Bud's waist, the dance began―the most tender dance I have ever seen.
"That's it, Dad," Mike encouraged as he slowly rocked from side to side while Bud slumped and shuffled an inch or two forward with each movement. Mike maneuvered them toward the bedroom, where he could change Bud's diaper. "Now I know why Mom said you were such a great dancer." Side to side, inch b...