The father drank too much. The son too.
The father knocked it off, went dry, in his early 50s. The son too. The father retired early. The son too. The father then focused on his way with words. The son too.
The father turned gray before his time. The son too.
The father could be a smart-ass. The son too.
On the telephone, you could scarcely tell them apart. And they looked alike. The father died at 75 from a heart attack. The son is 65 and has a heart problem.
Which leads the son to wonder: Is this his last decade?
But then the son focuses on the differences. The father drank way too much. The son far less. The father married just once. The son three times. The father would never have considered moving to Mexico. The son did just that.
The father had no sense of adventure. The son does in spades. The father was quite the nervous nellie. The son has piloted planes, ridden motorcycles too fast and loves roller-coasters. The father never drank coffee. The son likes a hot cafecito.
The father never liked travel. The son loves travel. So this is not precisely a case of parallel lives. But even so.
The father died unhappy. If the son dropped dead mañana, he would have a smile on his face. But even so, even so.
If these are the last ten years, that´s okay. The son will not die unhappy, which is more than many can say. The smile on his face would be wide. And his final words might be in Spanish: Estoy felíz y te amo.