My dad is sleeping a lot at the moment.
I read him a few chapters of The Magic Faraway Tree a few nights ago, the story he read to me and my brother night after night when we were young. It meant so much to me. But it was the ultimate bedtime story, knocked him out for days! I didn't see him awake for 2 days after that. You would think I would have learnt my lesson... but when I finally got some time with him last night I read him a few more chapters, and now he is back frolicking in the land of nod with Moonface & co.
I can say it as a joke because I've got my guard up at the moment; the shield that stops my mind from racing, my chest from tightening, my hands from shaking. Its a coping mechanism they say, but I can't help but feel I give off a carefree vibe when I speak this way, when deep inside I care so very much. It kills me that some days I can't sit with him, and talk with him, even if just for a short time.
When time is it's most precious with him, it suddenly feels so limited.
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