Dear Darling (19 page)

“I believe you wanted to go over the paperwork? The doctor will be back as soon as he can to let you know about the procedure in detail. He will be able to tell you when it can be performed.” I watch her pink lips with the tiny cupid’s bow move, but the anticipation is almost unbearable. I want to get this over with so I can start to live my life again. As she goes over the list of things that could go wrong, I start to feel nervous. My grip on Eli’s hand increases the more she says. I think about everything that has happened in my life, and how if it can go wrong it will.

What if I die on the operating table?

What if the cancer has spread and they can’t save me?

What if I have a reaction to the chemotherapy and I die?

All of these what-ifs.

But what if I don’t risk it?

If I don’t risk it, then I will die anyway. I have to try. I have to fight. Once the nurse has finished and we sign her forms, the doctor comes to tell me that I will be having the operation in the morning.

I’m terrified.

“I’m going to go and nip home to grab some of your things. But I’ll bring the kids in to see you.” I grab his arm as he is about to stand up. “Don’t worry. You’re mum and dad are here.”

“No, it’s not that.” How do I say this? “Um, all my things are in a suitcase under the bed.” I say, timidly. That overwhelming sensation of guilt falls over me again. His eyes glaze over before he closes them and stands still for a few seconds. I wait.

“Okay. I’ll find them.” He finally says on a sigh. I wish I could take it back, but what’s done is done, and I can’t change the past any more than I can predict the future.

“I’m sorry.” He takes hold of my hand.

“It’s okay.” He kisses it and then walks away and out of the door. A few hours, and a lot of mothering later, Eli walks back through the door followed by Bethany and Samuel.

“Mum, are you okay?” Beth asks, her concerned face creased with worry lines.

“I’m fine, Bethy, don’t worry.” She pulls me in for a tight hug, and I look over her shoulder at my boys. Sam’s face concerns me, and I pull away from Beth to talk to him. “Sam, what’s wrong?” He shrugs, turns to face the window, and lets his shoulders slump. Eli whispers something into his ear, and I watch their exchange with eager eyes.

“He’s just being a brat,” Beth whispers, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not being a brat.” Sam turns to his sister with a scowl on his face.

“Hey, can we not argue please. Your mum is ill, now isn’t the time,” Eli scolds them. A tear falls down my cheek, as I watch my son glare at me and his sister. He hates me, and I don’t blame him. I would hate me too.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to hurt any of you.”

“Too late, Mum. You were going to leave us and not say anything? Did you not stop to think how much that would hurt us?” My eyes flicker to Eli shocked that he had told them I was leaving. “I found your letter, Mum. You know, the one you hid in the kitchen drawer?” The venom in his voice has me recoiling.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say. Eli places an arm around his shoulder, turning him around so I can’t see their exchange. He pats him on the back and turns him back around to look at me.

“I’m sorry,” Sam says a few minutes later. His glazed eyes look so sad, and I feel overwhelmingly guilty for what I’ve done to my family.

“You never have to apologise to me, Sam. I’m the one that messed up. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He walks over towards me and flings his arms gently around my neck. It has been a while since I’ve had a hug of my grown-up boy. It feels so good.

We spend the next few hours chatting, reminiscing, and playing games—being a family. When it’s time for them to leave, I almost can’t let them go.

“Please don’t any of you say goodbye.” They all look at me confusion on their faces. “I don’t want goodbyes. So, I’ll see you all soon, yeah?” A small smile appears on Beth’s lips as she comes closer for a hug.

“See you soon, Mum,” she whispers into my ear as I kiss her cheek, holding her tightly.

“See you soon, Mum,” Sam says next as he hugs me, and I kiss his cheek and hold him tightly, too. My parents go next, both holding me for the longest time. I hate seeing my dad cry, it breaks my heart.

Eli is last.

“I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be here bright and early,” he whispers. The door closes as everyone but Eli leaves, and he pulls me to his waiting lips, kissing me softly. “I love you so much, it hurts. Promise me you won’t give up?”

“I promise,” I say with fervour. I mean it, I am going to fight as hard as I can.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stands and kisses my hand before walking out of the door and leaving me to my own thoughts.

Sleep evades me. All night long I think about what will happen if I don’t make it, and what I will do if I do make it. I think about what I want to do before I do die—a bucket list of sorts. Most of them are silly, but the one I want the most, is to see my children graduate, get married, give me grandchildren, and be happy in their long lives.

Soon the light slips through the blinds, and the nurse is tapping her knuckles against the door.

“I wanted to let you know they would be taking you to theatre soon.” The nurse barely has time to get the words out before Eli is pushing through the door.

“Hey.” His eyes look tired and weary; he hasn’t shaved so he has a few days’ worth of stubble along his strong jawline. His chocolate-brown hair, which has a few grey strands, looks messy and unkempt.

“Hi,” I reply on a yawn. Fatigue winning the fight on my body.

“How are you feeling today?” He places a bag on the floor and leans over, stroking my messy hair and kissing my forehead.

“Tired. Eager to get this over with.”

“I haven’t slept either.” He looks so sad and it’s killing me.

“Listen, if I don’t make it . . .”

“Hush, don’t talk like that.”

“I need to say it, Eli,” I demand. “If I don’t make it, I want you to make me a promise.” He nods his head and lowers it. “I want you to promise me that you will look after the kids, you will carry on. I want you to find love again.” He goes to speak, but I hold up my hand to stop him. “It kills me to think of you here without love. You have so much to give, and I want you to share it. I will always love you, and if I can, I’ll always be with you. But, you must move on.”

“I don’t want anyone else, I want you. I want you to fight, baby.”

“Darling, I will fight with all my strength, but if all my strength isn’t enough, you must promise me.”

“I promise,” he says, but I know the words hurt him. We don’t speak, we both just sit, thinking about what I said.

The silence is broken when the nurse comes in with a short, wiry-looking man in a blue uniform.

“Hi, Saffron. This is Jim, he’s going to be taking you down to theatre.” I smile at Jim, who must be in his sixties.

“Can I go with her?” Eli begs, looking scared.

“You can go as far as the doors, but then she’s on her own. She will be fine, though.” He picks up his bag and walks next to the bed with me. The corridors are long and cold, and I huddle under the thin blanket as we travel through the hospital. Eventually, we reach the big green doors with No Admittance written on the front.

“I love you, Saffron. I love you so much. Please fight baby, please fight.” Tears stream down his face like waves on the ocean. He squeezes his eyes shut to stop them.

“I love you, too. I love you and I love the kids, please tell them. I’m scared darling.’

“Don’t be scared. I’ll be right here waiting for you when you wake up.” He bends over and kisses me, and a teardrop lands on my cheek. I let it fall down, taking his salty tear with me as I am wheeled into the bright lights of the theatre.

“Good morning, Saffron,” the doctor says. But I don’t answer. I just listen to everything around me. My heart pounding faster than it’s ever pounded. The fear flowing through me like a dark, stormy night. My mind drifts to my family and a calm washes over me.

The nurse injects me with the anaesthetic and asks me to count backwards from ten.

Ten, nine, eight, seven . . . everything fades to black.

ELIAS

The clouds cast a dark shadow across the open, snow-covered field. Not a single soul has stepped foot on the white fluffy texture, allowing it to remain picturesque. When I was a kid, we would find the nearest field with a slight hill and sled down it on dustbin lids, pieces of cardboard, or whatever we could find at the time. I had a fun childhood, well up until, you know. Aaron and I would play in the fields for hours without anyone bothering us, and we wouldn’t come home until dark or until we were hungry. Mum always had a hot meal on the table for us. People say all the time, “Kids don’t know how lucky they are nowadays,” but, we were the lucky ones. We had no parents calling us every five minutes on mobile phones, worried about where we were. We had imaginations and friends who we spoke to in person instead of through a video game. We had adventures, and we built fortresses, but most of all, we had fun and were never bored. Up until that point that Dad hurt his back, we had it all.

But, things change.

I couldn’t say my life has been dull, there has never been a dull moment, but I’ve always picked myself up off the floor and carried on. It hasn’t always been bad. It’s provided me with some of the most wonderful things I never even thought to ask for, and I wouldn’t change them for the world.

As I sit on the old rickety bench in the churchyard, the graves spread in all directions in imperfect lines as far as the eyes can see. I look out across them, a sense of peace washes over me for the first time in ages. I don’t cry any more, I’m done with crying. I’ve cried too many tears over too many things. Plus, I promised her I wouldn’t cry for her, and I always try to keep my promises.

The sky is darkening, and soon the moon will be visible. My moon. It has always been my solace, the thing that comforts me when all else fails. For years, I watched the moon from the comfort of my bed. I’d make up stories, “The Adventures of Captain Elias Vale—Astronaut Sensation.” It’s laughable now, but it got me through a lot of bad stuff. It’s strange what we use as our coping mechanism. The first night he hit me I sat and looked at it for hours, memorising all of the shadows. But then as the nights went on, I realised it was my only constant. It was there for me every night, it never left.

The sound of crunching footsteps in the snow forces me to turn around.

“Come on, you’ve been here for ages. It’s freezing,” Shelley says, tugging on my coat sleeve.

“Let me say goodbye. I won’t be coming again,” I tell her, and she nods her head before turning to walk towards the car. When she’s settled in the warmth again, I stand and walk towards the headstone and remove the snow covering the words. Taking a deep breath, I finally lay my past to rest.

“I won’t be coming again. The past is in the past, and that is where it is staying. My future is what I’m looking towards now.” I sigh. “Janet, Darren. Goodbye.” I don’t have anything left to say to the two people who gave me life, so I turn and walk away from my parents’ grave. The newly overturned soil sticking high above the ground, holds only two bouquets of flowers, one from me and one from Shelley.

Aaron refused to come to Mum’s funeral, and I don’t blame him. If it hadn’t been for my beautiful wife, I wouldn’t have been here either. She encouraged me to say goodbye to my mother before she died, to make peace with her before it was too late. She knows what it’s like to feel alone and dying, she’s been through it.

“You okay?” Her voice is like an angel’s ringing through my ears, but her face is even more angelic.

“I will be.” I nod, walking into her waiting arms. Her big winter coat and woollen hat hide her battle scars, but those scars are what make her unique. It’s been a long battle.

At first I was furious at her for wanting to leave us, I couldn’t understand why she would do such a thing. Afterwards, I understood. When I put myself in her shoes, I thought about how I wouldn’t want to put her through the anguish, and I got it. I finally understood because I too would protect my family through anything.

Her bravery since she decided to fight has been unquestionably remarkable. She has battled through every obstacle, fought every doctor, and is now in remission. She’s my warrior princess, my cancer slayer, my hero. I love her more today than I have ever loved her, if that is at all possible. What she has been through would destroy most people, but not her. She is standing here with me, encouraging me to let go of my past. She has helped me to see that not only can I learn to forgive, but also that I can forget too. She is way too perfect for me, but I’ll take it.

She is my moon, my light, and my perfect sky. I will love her forever.