as i “celebrate” my 58th birthday today, i’m reflecting back on the five-day visit i just spent with my 88-year-old dad in rossmoor, the “adult” community in walnut creek just east of the san francisco bay. i call my dad joe. that’s his name.   we lost my mom in 1999; suddenly, she had a stroke on august 9th, never recovered, and we took her off life support on august 28th. she seemed to die peacefully.     since my mom’s death, my dad has been, by turn, overtly grievous, casually pursuant of other female companionship, mostly out of loneliness,…