Early-Morning Conversations 1 Death
Early-Morning Conversations 1: Death
“You have to be there when I die.” Without warning, a maelstrom of fear and angst has descended upon Eve on waking. Is she ready for death? Should she be? Or is contemplating death the same as giving up hope?
“Be there when?” asks Nick blearily. “What time is it? It’s early.”
“Sorry,” says Eve in rising distress. “I just…I just need to know you’ll be there when I die. I need to hear your voice. Your voice relaxes me. Plus, you need to tell me what to do and where to go. You know me—I haven’t got any sense of direction. I’ll end up in the wrong place.”
Nick roars with laughter, rubbing his eyes.
“You’ll end up in the wrong place because you didn’t have your sat nav on you.”
“Really, though,” she says, her voice tense with nerves. “You can’t leave me at the end. I have to hear your voice.”
“Of course I’ll be there. But you’re not going to die for a million years, so we’ve got time to plan. Anyway, you’ll probably outlive me, so it’ll be the other way around.”
There’s a pause, then Eve draws breath.
“Seriously,” she says in a different voice. “Nick, have you thought about it? Me going?”
There’s another, longer pause.
“Yes, I’ve thought about it,” Nick says at last, also in a different voice. “Of course I have.”
“I need to make a will.”
“You’ve got a will. But we do need to talk about a few things, when you’re up to it.”
“Another will, then. And plans. And arrangements. I need to plan my funeral,” says Eve in a fervent rush. “That’s a priority.”
“Do you, though?”
“Of course! It’s not fair to leave it all to you. I’ll choose the music and everything. The hymns and the readings. What else do you have at funerals?”
“Eve, it’s only five a.m .,” observes Nick. “D’you think we’ve got time for a cup of tea before we finalize your funeral arrangements?”
She knows he is teasing her and she gives a reluctant laugh, but the maelstrom is still there in her head. She’s terrified, only she’s not quite sure what she’s terrifiedof.
“I have to hear your voice at the end,” she says. “Please promise me that.”
“I promise,” says Nick, and reaches over to hug her. “But it isn’t going to happen for a long time. Let’s believe that.”
“And still make arrangements.”
“We can do both. We can both plan a funeral and at the same time believe we won’t need the plan for years and years. Win-win. Schr?dinger’s funeral.”
“OK,” says Eve. “Let’s do that.”
“And now I’m going to make a cup of tea,” says Nick, getting out of bed. “Why don’t you try to go back to sleep? And then we can plan your funeral, your memorial, your will, your life insurance, and all the other sexy stuff.”
“I’m serious,” says Eve.
“I know,” says Nick. “Me too.”
“Life used to be more fun,” says Eve.
“Yes.” He nods soberly. “Agreed.”
“Cancer is a buzzkill, what with the pills and the chemo and the dying.”
“Yes,” says Nick thoughtfully. “It’s a fucker. But luckily… ”
Eve laughs, because “luckily” is their family watch word. Tack it on to any gloomy sentence, they have instructed their children, and you can turn things around, viz:
It’s raining. But luckily, we’ve all got umbrellas.
I hate hockey. But luckily, I also play football.
I have incurable cancer. But luckily, my last scan was good.
“ Luckily ,” reiterates Nick, “there’s always a cup of tea.”
“There’s always a cup of tea,” agrees Eve. “And sometimes there’s toast as well. Life doesn’t get much better than that, does it?”
Her maelstrom has ebbed away. She’s looking forward to her tea. The day has barely begun but already she feels she’s learned a little something. She couldn’t exactly articulate it…already her thoughts are floating away…but she knows she’s learned it. And that’s what counts. Surely.