REALiTi

My dad picks the worst timing to ever talk about how many more years he most likely have before he lets out his final breath. ... Then again, is there ever a right time with me? I detested spending alone time with my father because you never know what comes out of his mouth next. 

Imagine, a 5 years old me crawling up to my dad in bed for a snuggle in the morning and he tells me he isn't young anymore and he was going to die. It was somewhat the truth, I knew that - and maybe that was why I hated it so much because I was utterly helpless. 

My dad mentioned it again while he was here. I might be much older now but the emotions stirred up from within is still the same. I looked away. I stayed quiet, I refused to look at anyone in the eye because I was afraid of being caught with a vulnerable soul laid out there in a crowded place. 

My parents are still here with me in the sense that they haven't died but they have gone back and I'm here. If I'm already feeling this empty with just their temporary departure, how am I going to remain strong when we say our final goodbyes?

I don't think I can ever really bring myself to mean to say I did all I can, I treasured their presence and everything because if I did, I wouldn't be going against the current and staying apart from them. 

When I came to that conclusion, for some reason I feel like I answered the question that plagued my entire stay here.