Walking gently into the room where his father was silently sat up in his bed with two pillows supporting his head, James sat down on the chair beside the bed before turning his head so he was facing his father.
His mind suddenly took him on a journey through his brain to his first memory of him and his father by the lake, a few miles away from their home in Crevecoeur.
James vividly recalled his father going on about whenever he came to the lake he was always blessed with the peaceful aura that brought on a warm feeling to his heart.
For James that was what books brought for him, however in those days his father was stubborn and refused to believe in such nonsense, or so he thought.
The memory of going through his father's belongings when clearing out his house was next to follow.
James remembered opening the small battered box that was filled with a few items that were precious to his father, to find that he was more than shocked to find all of his old books which were now full of little scribbles along with a few sentences which were underlined in an accurate straight line.
James had felt his hands tremble at just tracing a finger along the cover of the books.
The feeling of deep shame and regret had hit James at full force. All those times that he had made himself convinced that his father didn't care or acknowledge the person he was even if he did sometimes have a tiny bit of hope that he could have one day been proved wrong.
The day had finally happened which had made James's childhood theories come back to slap him round the face.
It had now made James realise that in reality he was just like his father in many ways.
As a kid James had rarely seen his father show his emotions to anyone. That alone had contributed to James's limited contact with his own emotions.
With a blink of an eye James was suddenly drawn back to the present as he felt a little movement coming from his father who had turned his head to face James while still in a calm sleep.
James's eyes were now darting around his father's peaceful sleeping figure , his eyes soon took him down to his father's hand which was spread across the duvet covers on his bed as if he was waiting for it to be held.
James had no memory of ever holding hands with his father, not even as a small child.
At this very moment James's facial expression looked awkwardly scared, as if he wanted to say something but was struggling to find the right words.
Neither he nor his father had been any good at expressing themselves through words. But sometimes it wasn't words that were required.
Unexpectedly James felt himself slowly and softly moving his hand gracefully towards his father. His fingers then entwined with his fathers until his hand was gently placed within his fathers hand.
The next two minutes were full of a comforting silence before James was startled to find Nell sat on the edge of the other side of the bed, a small smile filling her lips and a proud look on her face as if James had achieve something.
And in James's eyes he has.