On This Day (might be the saddest post ever)

Eleven years might seem a long time — and yet it can pass in a blink.

Do you remember what you were doing, on this day, on this day tomorrow…? I do. I will never forget.

As this Thursday arrives and rolls into tomorrow, I think back to being at the Royal Liverpool Hospital; to waking up amid the bleeps and tubes and the pain I saw in his young face. We were going home, ten weeks in hospital but we were finally going home — and it was a Thursday like today. Going home to the house we bought … but had yet to live in. The house we had filled with dreams, maybe to be graced with a baby one day. But the only dream left on this day was to cherish what time was left. We were told 3-6 months, we knew less than that, maybe a month… we had only a few hours. We could never have known .

I remember the teary goodbyes to the nurses who had become our friends, the tightening grip of their hands, the hugs, the quiver in their voices. They knew what it was, they never get used to it, I am sure. Does anyone? I remember the slow ambulance ride back to Wales. Knowing we were going home, but not the way we could ever have imagined it. I remember knowing his parents and brother would be there waiting for us — the first time they’d even seen the house, our beautiful cats and his tropical fish at the house waiting for us; for a ‘normality’ to return to our lives — but it never would.

Buying our first home together we never imagined it that way — wasn’t he supposed to lift me over the threshold of our new adventure? Not be rolled in a chair. Weren’t there supposed to be balloons and welcome to your new home cards, not a hospital bed and oxygen cylinders and futile get well cards… because we knew he wouldn’t.

But we made it home and we settled him and he finally told his mum and dad to go home, get some rest. I was there with his brother and a nurse was due to stay with us.

I don’t know when, at what precise time, that Thursday night the end started. Or when we knew what was happening, the doctor sitting me on the stairs out of earshot telling me there wasn’t much time, me whispering to his brother to get his mum and dad back, knowing they would only just arrived home after a two-hour drive. I don’t know what I saw in his pained face in that bed; nurses, doctors, the kind man who brought more oxygen from the local chemists. I don’t know what he said when he asked to speak to the MacMillan nurse alone, or what he whispered to the cats, one by one when he asked them to be put on the bed, kissing them gently. I can guess. Just as I can guess the panic when his parents drove back, not knowing if they would make it in time, having to pull over because of the emotion, the weight of that moment, because for all the hope and love and wishing… now it was real.

I think they made it back close to midnight, on this day.

My angel in the bed was very much alert, but I won’t say anymore because what happened in that final hour that took us to 1.10 am on Friday 21st, was shared only by us, his family and a nurse who simply watched on, there if needed. I guess the reason I can’t write the next part, is because it is overwhelming me and I don’t know why I chose to blog this, except perhaps to make sure its message is never forgotten .

Hold on to to those you love. Tell them every day.

I will say it again: Hold on to to those you love. Tell them every day.

I have someone special now and I won’t let go of that. He knows that on these days I remember, but he simply holds my hand and makes sure I know he is there. I am blessed with another angel. Truly blessed.

I know, because of the little signs I’ve had, we’ve had — and something that happened right by my birthday this year — that my Lee has given his blessing. I can see his face now in heaven: an expression that says,  ‘about bloody time, girl!’

But today, I remember… but I will also smile.

No post tomorrow, just quiet writing time, no gym as meeting a special friend to share lunch and think happy thoughts.

That is all.

 

 Hold on to to those you love. Tell them every day.

White feather

Make everything count.

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9 Comments

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9 responses to “On This Day (might be the saddest post ever)

  1. You’ve made me cry – but also appreciate my own good fortune.

  2. Thank you for your joy filled messages but especially today’s.
    So poignant, so timely. Some people are so much more loving than others and it’s good to be put in mind of that.

  3. I’m crying too, Debz. I recently lost my sister, but we were fortunate to have had two years of her company following diagnosis. These huge, overwhelming events really put things in perspective, don’t they.

    Hugs

    marion

  4. Chris Parmenter

    Beautifully remembered Debz and compelling to read. No words from us can ease the pain of Lee’s loss and nothing said can ever make it fair. To have loved and been loved by such a dear person must bring it’s own consolation. I do hope so. Kindest thoughts. Chris and Dave. xx

  5. Thanks everyone for such lovely heartfelt messages. Thank you for reading this, I cried at one point when writing it and remembering that day. But I wanted an honest account that I hope people relate to. It seems some do and I share their losses too… it comes from love. But also so many blessings come from love and from remembering. And I do, all of it and always will xxxxx

  6. Joy Radcliffe

    I am proud to have helped you get through some of the day-to-day work issues…you coped better than most would have done, and Lee would have known that you could. Thank you for inviting me to his special place on the island; a privilege. Perhaps we can make another trip next time you are in Wales. I am honoured to have watched you realise you dream.
    To the daughter I wish I had had. M2Jx

    • My lovely other mum. Joy you were there for me when I was going through the worst and I thank you with all my heart for that. Yes I want to go back to where his ashes were scattered again, next time we will. So lovely of you to comment and such lovely words. Thank you. And you will always be my welsh mum 🙂 Love you. See you soon I hope xxxx

  7. Oh Debz, 11 years have flown. I am not the person I used to be, I’m stronger and conversely more vulnerable. Wishing you peace and quiet time for reflection and joy in your new love. I on the other hand will be teaching year 9 for three lessons and BAC for one on our 11th anniversary. What wouldn’t i give for time out!

  8. This is such a beautiful piece that gave me intense emotions like i was feeling every bit of that night. Thank you.

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