I have a pretty basic shaving routine. Nine times out of ten I use a mug and brush and some nice soap, lather it up and slather it on. It carries virtually no scent but gets the job done, along with my Harry’s razor (NOT an endorsement, but I like it!)

Once or twice a month including the first of the month when I change my blade, I use Harry’s shaving gel. It has a scent I like, it leads to a nice smooth shave, pairs well with their skin balm product and most of the women in my life over the last five years whose opinion matters like it. Too Metrosexual?  Is that even still a thing?

Last September my father’s physical decline began in earnest. Mom could no longer fully care for him on her own. My sister was doing the bulk of the work but personal hygiene fell to me. So every couple of days I would go out, assist (!?) him in the shower, and shave him. His skin tone was fading and an electric razor (which he’d used most of his life) snagged and was painful. So I grabbed a fresh blade-head and my gel and balm. After his shower while his skin was moisturized and somewhat supple, and while the bathroom was still hot and steamy, I shaved my father. He sat stoically still. We bantered as we had for decades but this was not a decades old relationship. This was a new one. A reversal. My father was now near helpless. But I carefully groomed him. His cheeks. His throat. Under his (considerable) nose. I combed his hair, dressed him and helped him back into the family circle.

The LAST time I shaved him he made a joke. I damned near fell off the tub laughing. The family heard me in from three rooms away. And an hour later I couldn’t remember what he said. It was blocked from my recall for some reason. That was a year ago last week. He died “peacefully” in his sleep a few days later. At home. Surrounded by ALL of us. His wife.  His children.  His six grandchildren.  And yesterday, on the anniversary, I made a mistake. I used the gel, instead of waiting until tomorrow, the first. And the memory of those last weeks came crashing back. And I cried more than I have since it happened.

And I STILL can’t recall his last quip. And THAT makes me the most angry.