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  • For a while, I hadn't realised anything had changed.
    Then I noticed that although the TV was on, I couldn't hear it.
    I could see it alright, but I just couldn't hear it.
    I was aware that my wife was sitting in the chair next to me, but I just couldn't be bothered to ask her if she had turned the sound down.
    Then it dawned on me.
    The beat had stopped.
    That incessant beat that had been in my head since the doctor had said that my cancer was terminal.
    It was gone.
    Just like that.
    The silence was fantastic.

    A small tear had welled up in my right eye.
    It was always my right eye that filled up first when I was about to cry.
    Always the right.
    The tear slowly tumbled over my bottom lid and I felt it run down my cheek.
    Well, did I feel it?
    I suppose I was aware of it running down my right cheek rather than actually feeling it.
    I was in two minds whether to wipe it away but decided I just couldn't be bothered.

    Then it came to me.
    I knew the score.
    I suddenly realised where the beat had gone.
    And it didn't matter.
    In fact, it was good.
    No more incessant reminder.

    I can feel the peace washing over me.
    A great peace.
    Not a spiritual feeling.
    More like being wrapped up in a soft, fluffy, comfort blanket.
    And, for longer than I can remember, I am free of anxiety, free of stress, free of fear, free of burden, free of guilt, free of the beat.

    I’m not sure what I am really expecting now.
    There is no bright, white light to guide me.
    No choirs of angels to lift my heart.
    No past souls to befriend me.
    And nothing is good.
    No more guilt
    No more pain.
    No more beat.

    R.I.P Dad
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