Childhood memory

I wrote this on the Saturday evening before my dad's passing:

"When I was a little girl, I have distinct memories of bringing my sleeping bag onto our living room floor.  With a fire crackling in the background, my dad would lay between my sister and I telling us stories of Fiddy, Foddy, Fooey, and Beebs.  he would tell us of these fictionalized stories of his cousins from his childhood.  The one I remember the most is when Fiddy, Foddy, Fooey, and Beebs dug a hole in their backyard and built an underground tunnel to the school.  As my dad would engage us in the story, he would tickle our arms ever so softly as we would drop off to sleep.

Now here I lay on the same living room floor, 25+ years later, by his bedside tickling his arm on his weakened body as the fire crackles in the background.  After nearly 10 months of battling Acute Myeloid Leukemia, his journey is nearing the end.

I find myself laying beside him, unable to sleep.  My mind is reflecting on the warm and loving man he is and the beautiful memories I cherish."