One of my favorite memories of my Dad is of us coming back from a choir concert. I started feeling sick about halfway home, but didn't say anything. Just as we were literally pulling into our driveway, I leaned over the side of our van and dismissed everything from my stomach (and so began my lifelong aversion to pretzels, but that's another story). My Dad parks the car, turns toward me, and calmly asks: "You couldn't have waited ten more seconds?"
That was my Dad, always making me smile at the best and worst moments. My Mom took me inside and helped me clean up, and then my Dad came inside from cleaning up the car, and what does he say? He gives an entire list of what had once been in my stomach. Sigh. Facepalm.
It was a long night, and my Mom had work in the morning, so my Dad took care of me and eventually moved me into his bed when mine was no longer available for really disgusting reasons. I know I was miserable all night and probably didn't get any sleep, but I don't remember that. What I do remember is my Dad staying up, playing games with me, always making me forget the bad parts.
I've been under the weather all week long for a different reason, but miserable all the same. On one particularly bad night I couldn't sleep, or breathe really, so I got out of bed and began pacing the house. After my first walk-around I heard one of my cats jump down from her place on the couch and then felt her brush up against my leg. I turned toward my bedroom and my cat followed me. She probably thought we were going to lie down so she could sit on me, her favorite pass time.
But alas, when I made it to my bedroom door I turned back around and went for another walk. Confused, she followed me step for step. I almost felt bad for leading her on, but I have to laugh at the picture we must have made. I paced that first floor about five times, and she echoed my steps on every turn. Girl and Cat, keeping pace at 4 in the morning. Love, you save the empty.
Goodnight my Angel, time to close your eyes