A long time ago, I visited my great-uncle Claude in a nursing home.
To me, he was Mr Fix-It.
He fixed our bikes.
He checked my first car.
He owned every tool imaginable.
Now he was frail.
And he was still looking for something to fix.
He showed me a wire coat hanger he’d bent into a door hook.
Held it up, hopeful.
Then he dropped it on the floor.
Just let it fall.
We didn’t say anything.
—
I remember thinking, I don’t want to end up like this.
That moment stayed with me for decades.
And recently, it’s bubbled back up.
Not because I’m no longer needed — I am.
But because one day, regardless of my protests, the world will see me differently.
Too many men spend the later chapters of life trying to be useful
when what they’re really grieving
is that their old usefulness has expired.
I don’t want to wait for that moment to arrive.
—
What if usefulness changes shape as we age?
What if fixing isn’t always the job anymore?
What if stepping back —
not retreating, not disappearing —
but stepping back
is sometimes the most useful move available?
I don’t have a clean answer yet.
I’m just practising noticing.
—
If your dad is hovering…
or has retreated into his cave…
He may not be disinterested.
He may be renegotiating who he is allowed to be now.
Sometimes what helps most
isn’t another task —
it’s permission to stay
without having to fix anything.
—
Julian