John S. Lovewell died on Nov. 25 at the age of 96. The following essay by his son Mark was published in 2014.

Whenever I go to an Island social, I hear friends share stories about loved ones. Most of my peers talk about their spouses, or of their grown children.

When the conversation turns to me, I report about my 93-year-old dad, John S. Lovewell, who lives in Edgartown. Dad is active in local politics, and still serves as a water commissioner, something he has done since 1989, well before they tore down the old standpipe and built a new one.

Dad is a fixture in town and lives in his grandfather’s house. As a water commissioner, his longevity of service exceeds all of the department’s employees. His grandfather was the co-founder of the Edgartown Water Company, which built the first standpipe in 1906.

I see Dad every morning as I go to work and on weekends. We are close, but not so close that either of us can accuse the other of being annoying. He lives two blocks from where I work, but I live in Vineyard Haven.

Still, Dad is my significant other. Our kids, his five and my two, are grown. Our wives have moved on — Dad has been married more times than me. He also outnumbers me in dogs. He has walked and cared for four. I had one. All of them are in doggy heaven.

We’ve each seen the world separately aboard trains, ships, sailboats, planes and from journeys in our youth. He spent many years living in the Orient and is a World War II Navy veteran. During the Viet Nam War, I was a conscientious objector. But we do share similar political views, and a concern about the ineffectiveness of Congress in Washington. He keeps a closer eye on the proceedings than I do. The day after the last election, he updated a scoreboard of every Senate race. The highlight of my day was going bay scalloping in Cape Pogue with Cooper Gilkes and his son Danny.

Dad likes baseball more than football. I could care less about either sport, but I do get a kick out of watching him take flight when the Red Sox are in the World Series, and the Patriots walk over their opposition. He is an armchair sports enthusiast. I am a rocking chair mariner.

Our differences don’t outweigh our similarities. Despite our age and experience, we both think Edgartown harbor is the prettiest in the world. We love the Vineyard and enjoy a good storm. We each have desk drawers, file cabinets and cardboard boxes filled high with the things we care about, all of it colored by some level of love and dedication. Our bookshelves are crammed full with the best books ever written, though his selection in his Edgartown home is different in every way from mine in Vineyard Haven.

We were both born under the zodiacal sign of Taurus, the bull. Bulls are stubborn, opinionated and there is usually only one way to do things. Wait a minute, that is not him. I am describing myself. In 93 years of living a full life, Dad is a lot kinder than any bull.

My father’s aging puts a lot of responsibility in the hands of both of us and the many more who care about him. Dad wants to be independent. The family wants him to be safe. The overhead light bulb in the kitchen hasn’t been changed by him in over a decade. My brother hid the ladder. That is my job now.

I can’t remember the year Dad gave up bicycle riding through town, or when he quit driving, or stopped walking the dog, it was so long ago. But this is the year that my generous off-Island siblings and a neighbor got Dad his own iPad. The device opened up a whole world to a man who has seen the world. For the first time, he writes and reads emails.

I take Dad shopping once a week, which isn’t much. We both remember when his mother at age 90 still drove and went shopping at the A&P almost every day.

I don’t cook for Dad, which is why I think he has lived so long. We both rely and are grateful to Elder Services of Cape Cod and the Islands and the Edgartown Council on Aging for delivering the important meals he needs and deserves every day. I tell him, “I am your cook of last resort.”

As predictable as our lives together have become day to day, I have to say life overall has its unexpected treasures. There was not a thread of evidence in our earliest years together, when I was his prodigal son, that we’d become such good pals. I think this is a bigger gift to me than to him.