Penn Y Ghent

Yesterday we set out to relive a moment in my father's past that meant a lot to him. We, a party of 9 in the end, for his 4x4 wheelchair set out up the path that would lead to the hill (mountain) Penn Y Ghent.
For the first time, in a long time he was doing something with a bit of drama, and the path certainly provided a bit of that.
On occasion I thought his chair, and him in it were going to topple over. But we kept going, limited, it seemed by the battery rather than his determination or stamina.
My daughter was very excited at first, she hugged him tightly on arrival. Admittedly she got a bit bored towards the end but finding worms to rescue from puddles helped.
We didn't get to the top, in fact we didn't get very high. The pace was slow, but we did it.
I'm told on his return home he had a huge smile. He wants to try again.
What I found interestingly sad was that during that time, and the meal afterwards he was so awake, I could understand him better and he engaged. It's sad because I don't see that side of my dad much.
Perhaps this is the start of things to come, maybe my dad is still in there and he's able to be part of my life.