24/03/2026
Chapter 14
Two weeks left
As the evening drew in, my father was experiencing sharp pains in the right-hand side of his abdomen. I tucked him up, ready for bed, and said, “Dad, if you need me in the night, please wake me up; I don’t mind.” He agreed, and we said good night.
Saying goodnight to my dad never got old, and I truly loved tucking him up in his chair for the night.
The soft light was his comfort as he sat wide awake, ruminating on middle-of-the-night anxieties. Although no one is ever truly alone, it felt that way. Extreme silence. No sounds to drown out the hissing of tinnitus. Painful isolation. Everyone's souls have drifted to higher planes, yet his stays locked to his body. No astral climbing or energetic rewiring. Just silence. Isolation. Chair. Him.
You can't hide or run away from the truth when there is nowhere to go or no one to distract you. I reckon this is why insomnia has its place. Like a senior citizen sitting down to think. Delve into what one can change and ultimately what one must surrender to.
“I am okay with it,” said Colin.
Insomnia would ask, “Really?”
Are you really okay with it, Colin? Surrendering to the great unknown after sixty-seven years of survival…
There are no schools in the West that teach a human being how to die. The ultimate surrender. Albeit you are okay with it, insomnia questions.
Now let me ask you again, Colin, “Are you okay with it?”
“No, I’m not okay with it. In fact, I'm petrified. Lost in the repetitive loops of my ego. Chained to the torture. Hypnotised by its theatre.”
Well, now is the time, Colin, to listen to your heart instead of your head. What does your heart say, Colin?”
This back-and-forth mental chatter must have taken place. I know it did for me. I was only in the next room, a few feet away. Yet emotionally, he was metaphorically in Thailand, and I was in England at the airport drop-off.