My Dad is sleeping with my Mum in the hotel room next to mine.
I'm in a 15th century monastery in Belgium that is now an Hotel (with WiFi), and I've driven 750 miles in the last few days.
Having found some years ago the place in France where his (and my) name was invented 880 years ago, I finally took Mum & Dad to see it. We strolled around the ruins of an Abbey built in 1127 that inspired the Abbot to invent a new name for the place. That name has since been handed down the generations (via my Father) to me.
For years, my father and I never really spoke. After 40-odd years, that has been resolved.
I blamed him for my failings, and vice versa. We now share a sense of common heritage, and as a bonus, discovered a shared affection for fine cuisine.
In addition, I've found the place he stayed here in Bruges back in 1951 - The people he knew then are long dead or moved on, but we have shared common memories of a foreign place, enjoyed a great meal with amazing waiters and skilled chefs, and finally concluded that my mother is as mad as a pair of triplets.
It's now sleepy time, but after a bottle of '87 touraine, I felt the need to share.
GFY