Living Juicy

Dad’s not sleeping again. I talked to my grandmother yesterday and she said, “Your Dad’s gotten quiet again.” He lies awake at night thinking and thinking. Worried about work, about his kids, everything. He’s nitpicking over every past misdeed and failed dream. The pressure of anxiety weighing him down. Just can’t relax, can’t breath, can’t sleep. Exhausted. Afraid. Each moment of wakefulness driving the fear. Each ticking minute another brick on his chest. I wish I could blow cool winds across his soul to soothe him. I wish I had words or prayers enough to calm his beating heart. I wish I could grant him contentedness and sleep. But I can’t. I can only sit back and wait as he works through it all over again. It doesn’t help that he’s very stubborn, maybe even more afraid of letting go of his fear than the actual fear that’s keeping him awake.