In the pitch black night Daniel and I arrived to our childhood home. The deep snow lit up the surroundings, as did the street lights with their cold gaze. The driveway was fairly snow free. Perhaps that was one of the final efforts my father had made, I remember thinking. Every once in a while I had hoped to one day be able to give my father a snow blower for Christmas to replace the snow showel he used, to spare his aching joints some of the pain. This was just one out of many things it had gotten too late for.

Daniel and I stepped into the hallway where we had been so many times before. Everything was different, everything was the same. Dad’s winter jacket hung between other jackets, his shoes were on the floor beside other shoes. So many pieces he left behind.

Our mother, Niklas and his girlfriend were waiting for us. Everything was very still, the surreal feeling was very present. It took us some time to go to bed. Things to talk about, to be sad about, before sleep was possible. My mother insisted that I’d sleep with her in her and dad’s bedroom.

On dad’s side, I couldn’t sleep.

My mother snored, I couldn’t sleep.

After an hour or two I went out to the living room, to the couch where my father had not watched enough movies. Thoughts were bugging me, I couldn’t sleep. I cried, I couldn’t sleep. Upstairs Niklas was making music, the sounds that came through the ceiling told me he was recording rhythm sections. Good. His way to deal. I wasn’t yet sure of mine.

A cat soon appeared in the night, Niklas black, heavy Darwin. He kept me company. Sat on my chest while I laid there crying. He washed away my tears with his weird little cat tongue. Maybe that’s why he’s a heavy guy, maybe he eats simply everything. He kept me company like this, every night during my stay, cleaning my tears away. I got a back pain from his weight but I couldn’t care less. On this first night it took me a long while and a lot of tears, but finally I managed to fall asleep. The comforting chubby cat remained on my chest.