About ten years ago, as my Dad approached 90 we would occasionally go to the store together and I would ride in his car. He had a handicap tag for my Mom who was about the same age and felt her joints hurt too much to go without one.
My Dad however was the one with very compromised mobility and barely hobbled along with a cane and got easily winded due to cardiovascular health.
However, if it was just him and not Mom in the car, he would not park in a handicap space. He said, “those are for sick people or those that really need them — I can walk.”
I was a matter of stubborn pride with him, but I couldn’t help be proud of the old bird.
As you should be. As bad as we think we might have it in this life, there is always someone who has it worse.