Chapter 29
29
HOLLY
The palliative care team have told Tom that Lou will almost certainly die today and I’ve brought the children in to say goodbye. I spent some time this morning preparing them as best I can for what’s to come, but I don’t even know how to prepare myself. I’ve told Stan and Flo that Mummy might sleep a lot, and that the doctors are giving her medicine to make sure she’s not in any pain, but there’s a chance it will make her even sleepier. When Tom told me about the change to Lou’s skin tone, I knew I had to prepare them for that too, and I explained that Mummy might look a bit different, because her body isn’t working as well as it used to. They both cried then, and I did too, but it seemed to help the children more than me. I couldn’t face eating, but when I offered to make them pancakes, they were much more enthusiastic than I expected.
I’m amazed at how resilient they’re being, but I know their grief won’t be a linear path. The reality of their mother being gone forever won’t even begin to set in until it happens, and even then I suspect it won’t fully sink in for quite a long time. The temptation to soften the edges for them has been so great, but all the advice from the various charities I’ve worked with is to keep things simple and avoid using confusing terms, like Mummy has gone to sleep, or she’s up in the sky. Telling them that Lou is going to die is the worst thing I’ve ever had to do, but it would have been even worse to have to do it more than once. I don’t think I could go through that again and yet even as we pull into the car park of St Joseph’s, I know that very soon either me or Tom will have to tell them that their mother is dead.
‘Okay guys, are you ready?’ I turn to look at my niece and nephew, who both nod solemnly and, as I open the car door, I send up a silent prayer that today will be a good day for Lou, and that she’ll be able to say a proper goodbye to her children.
‘Hello babies.’ Lou is propped up on pillows as we come into the room. She seems even smaller than she did at the party and there’s no denying that she looks like someone who is dying. But she smiles at the children and holds out her arms to them. For a moment they hesitate, and I wonder if they’re afraid, either of what Lou looks like now, or of somehow hurting her, but then they rush forward to give her a hug. Tom looks like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks, and I suspect I do too, but we’re here, and we’re together, and somehow we’ll get through this because of that.
‘Do you know how much I love you both?’ Even Lou’s voice sounds different, and every word is clearly an effort, but the children nod.
‘I love you too, Mummy.’ Flo speaks first and then her brother responds too.
‘I love you even more.’ There’s a flicker of a smile from my sister then, at the sibling rivalry. Having a twin sister has been the cornerstone of my life and I don’t know who I’ll be if I’m not Lou’s other half any more.
‘I’m going to miss you both so much, but if you ever miss me, you can give Daddy or Auntie Holly a great big hug, and they’ll give you one back from me. I’m going to give them all my hugs to store up before I go, and they’ll never run out.’
‘I don’t want you to die, Mummy.’ Flo repeats her plea from the night of the party and Stan starts to cry.
‘I don’t want to die either, but my body has stopped working. I’ll always love you, nothing can take that away. And if Daddy lifts you up on to the bed now, we can have a nice, long cuddle, and Tigs will squeeze in too. How about that?’
The children turn towards their father and urge him to lift them on to the bed, and he quickly obliges. Lou winces as little arms and legs thrash around until they all find a comfortable position, and then her face relaxes. I can hardly breathe for fear that the sobs that are caught in my throat might suddenly escape, and I marvel once more at what an amazing woman my sister is. It’s only when I look at her face again a few moments later, that I realise how hard she’s crying, silent tears sliding into the children’s hair. She knows these are the last moments they’ll ever share and the only way she’d have been able to stop herself from crying would be if she was already gone.
Flo and Stan hadn’t wanted to go home and, in the end, Lou had whispered to Tom that she would pretend to be asleep, so he could tell them that Mummy needed to rest. Eventually they were persuaded to leave and I could see Lou’s hands twitching as she pretended to sleep and fought the urge to reach out and hold them one final time.
Her friend, Joanna, came to pick the children up and my parents are on the way to say their final goodbyes too. But for now, it’s Tom and me by the side of her bed, as I watch the rise and fall of her chest, and try not to hold my own breath.
‘I want a mint Aero.’ For a moment I think Lou is dreaming, but then she tugs on the sleeve of Tom’s shirt and repeats her request. ‘Mint Aero please. Holly can stay here.’
She’s barely eaten in weeks and not at all since the party, but there’s an urgency to her tone and Tom doesn’t argue.
‘Okay, I’ll go to the shop. Do you want something, Holly?’ He looks straight at me and widens his eyes, and it’s then that I realise what it is that Lou really wants, and what he understood before I did. My sister wants some time on her own with me, while she still has the chance.
‘I’ll have the same as Lou.’ It’s something I must have said on thousands of occasions, because I’ve always wanted to be more like my sister. When I was a kid, it was probably more about not missing out on anything that I thought she was getting, but once we got older it was because I admired her so much and trusted her judgement.
When Tom disappears, I move to lie down next to Lou, face to face, and she takes hold of my hand.
‘Thank you.’ Her words are barely more than a whisper.
‘What for?’
‘For everything, for being you, and for your advice on the forum.’ The length of the sentence seems to have her struggling for breath, and it makes me gasp too. I didn’t know for a long time that the person I was corresponding with was my sister. She’d changed the details of her illness and kept other details vague. I wondered if it might be her when I realised she was asking the same question that seemed to be occupying a lot of Lou’s concerns, about who might come into her children’s lives after she’d gone. I figured it didn’t matter whether it was Lou or not, I wanted to give this desperately scared women the same advice I would give my sister if I thought she was ready to listen.
I could tell @worriedmum1982 that all that mattered was making memories with her loved ones, that she needed to say all the things she thought were important, and that she had people she could trust to make sure her children would always be surrounded by love. Lou wasn’t ready to hear any of those things from me, but it turned out she could listen to @itsnotallover2. As time went on, I had no doubt it was her, recognising Lou in the way she supported other people on the forum, long before she started talking about the party and having a twin sister. Part of me had wanted to tell Lou who I was, and that I knew it was her, but she’d made herself vulnerable and shared her innermost thoughts, in a place she’d assumed she was anonymous. I hadn’t wanted to take that safe space away from her, so I kept it a secret, hoping she’d never find out.
‘You knew?’ She nods and I need to know when she worked it out. ‘Right from the start?’
She shook her head. ‘Not until I was writing my vows, when you told me not to leave anything unsaid…’
‘I didn’t know it was you either at first, it was the wrong type of cancer, but then I heard your voice in the words of encouragement you gave to other people and even on an anonymous forum you couldn’t hide who you were. I thought about telling you, but I didn’t know how you’d react and I didn’t want you to lose the support of the forum, or for others to miss out on all the support you were giving them, despite what you were going through. You’re the best person I’ve ever met Lou, and I’m so lucky I got to be your sister.’
‘I love you.’ She closes her eyes for a moment and if it wasn’t for the flicker of her eyelids, I’d have been certain she was gone, but then she opens them again and looks straight at me.
‘Look after the letters on my desk; they were your idea after all.’ The hint of a smile is back for an instant and then her eyelids grow heavy, and I know that our last moments alone together have already passed. If we’d had forever, I could still never have told her all the things I need to say, so I just whisper that I’ll always love her, and lie by her side until Tom comes back.