Dear Laura

Hey,

Just thought I'd give you a little update on how things are. We are okay. Well, as okay as can be. Time marches on. The nights are getting brighter and our bedroom is once again flooded in sunlight, when it is actually sunny, in the early evening. You know I've never had any sort of seasonal disorder, each season for me has it's own uniqueness that triggers happy memories and inspires and heralds change. However, you spent a lot of time in bed this time last year and the change in the season hit me a little unexpectedly. I recall those bright, sunnier evenings whether you were up there resting and I'd come up to check on you or when we were all up there doing homework, drying hair or just laughing, reading and playing. The warmth and light that fills the room is still beautiful but I have a little empty feeling deep inside. Don't fret though, they fill it when they come upstairs and start jumping on the bed! I even allow Teddy to come up occasionally.

They are still sleeping in here with me. I have suggested that we try one night in their own rooms but that was knocked on the head due to Hallie having a little wobble recently. She started crying a lot and didn't want to leave me to go to school. She has struggled a bit of late, not in school, they both had great feedback at the Parents Evening, it's just the idea of leaving me it seems. It took me a while to realise what brought it on but I'm guessing that it was due to Mothers Day. I imagine it brought it home to her when all the kids in her class were making Mothers Day stuff. They did make some Mothers Day things but mainly they made more stuff for me instead. Sorry! It seems I'm getting the joy of Mothers Day and Fathers Day. I don't want to her to cry and get upset but in some ways I'm glad she is as it signals that she has started to process things. Her journey has begun. We draw little things on our the palm of our hands with Sharpies in the morning, a "cuddle button" it's called. When she feels sad she can press it and I'll press mine at home too. In true Hallie style it started with one love heart but it has now morphed into both hands and a selection of stars, smiley faces, Minions and animals. She has also asked to take a picture of me in. So I punched a hole in a passport photo and she wears it on a chain around her neck. I know. Don't make that face. She's happy and it works. The fear is what she'll add to the chain! The school are turning a blind eye to it I think as jewellery probably isn't allowed and she doesn't wear it on PE days. They both tell me how much they miss you more often and there are a few tears. We still look at your phone every evening and I've never been so grateful for all your saved Snapchats as I am now. They often replace the tears with smiles. You always said that we should do more videos. I need to remember to do that. The ones we have are priceless. 

Aden is okay. I've finished his room at last. It's very cool. I'm sure you, well, I hope you would approve of what I done. Little grown up touches just like you wanted. I've put a shelf above his bed with cool stuff on it and now he has his PS5 in there he's spending a bit more time in it. Due to FIFA23 he's suddenly taken in interest in football and every time he comes home from school he goes out the back garden to kick his ball about. It's a little less screen time so I'm happy that he does that.

Hallie is still drawing and crafting. The only time she stops is to go on her exercise bar. Oh, I forgot to say, she won gold medal at her first gymnastics competition! I was in tears. Aden was cuddling me when he saw I was crying. He knew I wasn't upset but happy and his reaction on top of my pride in Hallie's achievement just made the whole experience a whole lot better. I so wished you were there to see it. My heart was bursting. I let out a Yes! when they said her name, like Celtic had scored a last minute winner or Josh Allen nailed a touchdown! It's another one of those occasions to add to the unending list of "wish you were here" moments.

They both enjoyed our Easter trip to Butlins. I felt it a little bittersweet at times as I remembered our trip with them but it was still lots of fun. However, one night, as we were all squashed into our double bed, Aden asked me what cancer actually is, as to him, you appeared healthy. I explained as best I could and basically told them that you/we were very unlucky. I knew right there where this was going and I had no way of stopping it as Hallie said, "but you are healthy too Daddy." And down the rabbit hole we went. Don't worry, they were okay. I convinced them, rightly or wrongly, that I'm going to be here for a long time as we are a team and that you were still looking after us. The thought is probably still there but it's just about managing it as I go. 

Generally, I feel my routine with them is improving. Bedtimes in particular are getting better. However I still get frustrated at times and I'm prone to snapping at them. We always make up though with the obligatory kisses and cuddles. I'm doing my best. I always hope that they know that. I know you do.

I've been thinking more and more about work and finances recently too. Don't panic, it's not like I haven't always been thinking about our finances. I know that that sentence alone has got you worried. Finances and all that were always your thing. Sometimes, I'll admit, I worry too. Then I think why should I? We've got to enjoy this life. They've got to enjoy this life. I know you were frugal, always had that rainy day fund. I always thought you worried a bit too much about that rainy day if truth be told, even though you were ultimately right in doing so. But we have had our rainy day and as much as I worry about their future, you made me promise to make sure they lived their lives as full as possible, so that I'm doing. There will always be rainy days ahead, so even if we don't have an umbrella it's okay to get a little wet sometimes. I'll go back to work at some point. I know, another worrying sentence. I'm just not ready. It's as simple as that. What's the sense in even going part-time with the summer holidays fast approaching? The DWP seem to understand that, although every week they are making me jump through more hoops and tick more boxes to get to that point. So I'll wait until the holidays are over. Again, don't panic. I have a plan. A loose plan. Let's call it fluid. You know what I'm like. 

As I said at the beginning, time marches on. We are getting closer to that date. I have an eye on it. In the meantime we are filling our time and planning, we are growing and learning. The kids planted tulips for you in the planter outside last October and how they have bloomed. They are both colourful and vibrant. There is no clever metaphor here, so you don't need to roll your eyes and call me a smartass. Your cherry tree, like the tulips, is blooming too. You provided the colour, warmth and beauty both inside and out. We still feel it and still see it. 

Love you always,

Us x

The Return

At Easter I took the kids to Butlins for a little break. This was five years after Laura and I took them to the same resort. Prior to booking I didn't quite anticipate how much returning there, to a place we'd been before, would effect me. On numerous occasions I watched the 2018 us in the same way Hollywood depicts a dream or memory scene with the main character watching himself in the past as if he was present in both timelines while the past version was totally unaware of his existence. 

On one occasion I was standing at the window of our second floor apartment room looking down at us as we walked along the path between the accommodation blocks. It was early evening, Laura was laughing and joking with an animated four year old Aden, who was pulling her along by the hand, excited about the evening ahead. I was walking behind her, carrying Hallie, who had probably walked a few yards before asking to be picked up. I was turning around in circles as I walked, her laugh while being spun around barely audible from the distance. We were probably on our way to dinner and a show as we were all dressed smartly. The scene was fleeting as they passed by, obscured by trees.

The sun was shining and me and the kids were walking along by The Diner and the ice cream parlour on the way to the swimming when I watched all of us go by on a Go Kart for four. It was one of those with a canopied roof. The kids were strapped into the front and we were in the seats behind them. Although it looked like we were both pedalling, it was obvious that I was doing the work and Laura was going through the motions. She was leaning forward trying to take photos of them on her phone. The kids were pointing at the ice cream parlour and as they pedalled by and I could hear Laura saying "Okay when we bring the Kart back we'll go if you face me for a photo". I was turning to say something to her but by that time they had gone past and I watched over my shoulder as they turned a corner and disappeared out of sight. 

We were standing in the queue to get our pictures taken with Peppa Pig and George in front of the green screen and ahead of us I watched us getting our pictures taken with Billy and Bonnie, the Butlins bears. I was standing with Aden in front of me with a hand on his shoulder and Laura was beside me holding Hallie in her arms. Both the kids had their toy Billy and Bonnie bears and Laura looked lovely in a red top and long back skirt. I watched myself ask if I could quickly take a picture of them with my phone before the next people in the queue were ushered forward by the Red Coat. I then watched us walk away into the crowd, Laura still carrying Hallie, the sky blue of her Monsoon dress brightly contrasted against Laura's red. 

I'm sitting at a table on my own while the kids are sitting on the floor in front of the stage watching The Skyline Gang perform one of their many song and dance routines. From a distance I'm watching the kids like a hawk. They are happy; Aden is jumping up to see if he can get a high five from one of the Gang and Hallie is waving her flag of Rainbow the Dog from their act and holding her Rainbow cuddly toy, a sure sign to the Gang that she was a fan. Sitting at the table I turn around to the seat beside me in the same way that I still do when I'm driving, but it's empty. Laura-less. My heart sinks. I look around me. Every single table is taken up by complete family units. Happy, smiling, family units. I'm smiling through it. I'm smiling because I have to, because I need to. Returning has been difficult, I just didn't realise how difficult it would be. It is somehow different from frequenting restaurants or the cinema or other places we all used to go together. I don't know why. They are as much a happy together memory as Butlins. It just seems different. More emotional. I had those types of flashback all weekend. All of us at the arcades. All of us sitting eating fish and chips. All of us queuing to go see a show. All of us at the swimming. All equally as vivid. All equally as sad and sigh worthy. All causing me to repeatedly swallow the lump in my throat. However, I pushed it back, held it down and kept it in. A brave face is the default face. They need me to be strong. They need to know that everything will be okay. There will be times when the façade needs to be dropped. Times when we can cry together, feel sad together and let it out together. Holiday isn't one of those times. 

As we left after the show to go back to our apartment I had a quick glance over my shoulder a few times in the hope that I should spy a slightly older me in the crowd looking in our direction. Hoping that that version of me would acknowledge me with a nod and a slight smile and a look that said "you're doing okay". I didn't see him. But Laura was there. Hidden somewhere in the crowd. 

Watching. As always. 

The Fear

It's the middle of the night I can't sleep. 2:47am. I'm tired and exhausted. There's a tightness in my chest and I can feel my heart beating all too fast. My ears are ringing and my eyes are struggling to focus. I try breathing slowly as I attempt to get it under control but it doesn't work. I try listening to The Voice but any words of comfort are being drowned out by the sound of my own laboured breathing and the rapid pulsing of my heartbeat echoing in my head. Nothing works. There is no reason to why this comes over me at certain times, the feeling just creeps in and as soon as I acknowledge it, it lingers and grows. The anxiety doesn't have a name or any recognisable trigger, there is no catalyst, it just is. It's not like I was thinking about a particular thing and it started there, it's just a general feeling of unease. Although I have been here before, these episodes are different. The worries are very much real and it's not just me stressing myself out for reasons I just couldn't put my finger on like I used to. My fears are exactly that. Fears. I'm scared. My mortality is a very palpable feeling. 

There's a rising feeling of anxiety and a uncontrollable sense of panic bubbling up from deep inside. I can't switch it off. The floodgates that hold back a torrent of worry are about to burst open with thousand concerns. And a thousand more what ifs.

I'm jammed in between the kids in bed and I can't risk moving in case I wake them up. This only exacerbates the worry. If I move I may disturb them. If I get out of bed and they wake up to find me not there they will get a fright. There will be tears and confusion. This has happened before, so I'm stuck here, unable to get up and try to clear my head. Unable to get up and even call a friend. 

So my worries have now got a focus and I can't get the thought out of my head: what would happen if something happened to me? I'm here alone with the two of them. There's no back up. This thought alone is a rabbit hole. Imagining them in any situation where they need to help me or help themselves without me is totally panic inducing. My brain keeps making me imagine it. Repeatedly. I have no answers. Against my will I can't think of anything but the worse. All I can hear is my heart pounding fast and all I feel is the dizzying sensation of trying to catch my breath. Rather absurdly my mind focuses on the front door. We have one of those composite doors with no handle on the outside. Since it was fitted it has always jammed. Even adults struggle with it. My brain is now panicking me into thinking what if something happened to me and they couldn't open the door. What if they needed to get out and I couldn't help them? What if they had to let someone in and couldn't? Now I'm feeling even more anxious. My mind is racing, processing all these worries so quickly that I can barely focus on one to think of a solution. How will they cope? I need to plan. I'm need to show them how to use my phone in an emergency. Would this, in turn, worry them? I need to look at the settings on my phone in regards to emergency details. I need to do something.

Plan for the worse. Hope for the best. I've hoped for the best before and what I got was the worse. How do other people in my situation cope with these worries? Of all the many concerns I have, my health is at the top. It's a very real worry. I simply cannot let them be without us both. It's an terrifying thought. Utterly terrifying. 

I lie down next to them and make a determined effort to get some control again. I need to. They are warm and at peace. I try to borrow some of that calm innocence that they exude in sleep. I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing. Hallie rolls over and puts an arm around me, Aden is radiating warmth beside me. My heart is still beating fast but the rushing sound that filled my head is dissipating. While they are my biggest concern, they are also my salvation. They heal me. I can't remember falling asleep. I'm just grateful I did. 

I've called about my door and I've programmed my phone to send a message to family when the on button is pressed 5 times in succession. This is the way my life is now. I need to cover all the bases. Acknowledging my fears will provide solutions. I need to do this for them. This is more difficult than I feared but despite it all; the worries, the panic, the actual fear, I know that I will come out the other side. We will do it together. Because I love them I will take their fears and make them mine and all those fears will be unsuspectingly cured in turn by their love. 

Love over fear. Love will prevail.

The Birthday Time

In just under the space of three weeks Hallie, Aden and Laura all celebrate their birthdays. Hallie was 7 at the end of February and Aden will be 9 in March and sandwiched between them is Laura's birthday.

I have found this period particularly taxing. I don't quite know why. I don't think it has anything to do with having to organise both Hallie's and Aden's birthdays in a short space of time, although I have to say that is was quite stressful as organising their birthdays, like everything else really, was Laura's forte. I generally just did the running around, the blowing up of balloons and the picking up cakes and treats. 

I had suffered a bit of a Christmas hangover at the beginning of the year. Christmas was constantly on my mind for months and when it was over and they went back to school I felt exhausted. I had no motivation. I felt lethargic. Empty. As usual I put my game-face on and got on with things despite the hollow feeling inside. Then one morning I woke up and it was suddenly 4 weeks until Hallie's birthday and I hadn't organised anything. I also didn't "bank" any present ideas from Christmas so I was at a loss to what to actually buy them. (Note to self for next year.) I also didn't have a clue what to do on their actual birthdays. Laura always had new and original ideas party-wise, I had none. So I decided that Laura's ideas from last year were so good I'd do them again, only I tweaked them slightly if at all. The kids seemed happy enough with that so after a quick consultation they enthusiastically agreed. It was only afterwards when I was leafing through Laura's Books that I found she had written down birthday party ideas for the next few years. Of course she had. I'm disappointed in myself that I didn't think to look in her books initially. For context Laura had note books that she wrote things down in. There are weekly/monthly financial breakdowns and forecasts for coming months. Ideas, allowances and outlay for special occasions. There are also not only the aforementioned birthday plans but also suggestions for gifts for their 18th and 21st birthdays. She also has pictures to back this up on her phone. Again, it's hard to imagine the sadness she felt writing these ideas down knowing that she would never she the result or experience the joy. 

So now I'm in the middle of birthday season and even though my mind is full of organising and planning, my heart feels heavy. Laura loved their birthdays and it hurts that she isn't here for them. I'm feeling the weight of her sadness that last year was her last with them and even more so that she knew that. This period is another one of those firsts; her first birthday gone and their first birthdays without her. Time just seems to be marching on relentlessly and the universe appears unmoved by the fact that with every passing day she is further gone from us. That is not to say she is fading from our memory but these firsts continue to mark the passing of time and that makes me feel like I'm strapped tightly in a roller-coaster seat and I'm craning my neck to look backwards at a point that is becoming increasingly smaller. 

However, I bought her birthday cards from the kids and me. Just like she is here. We'll have a cake, make wishes on her behalf and sing happy birthday. Just like she is here. And in that way we are keeping her here, despite what the universe and time may say. 

The Voice

I've found this quite hard to write. I write it, go back, rewrite, delete, then start all over again. 

It might be due to the opening of The Door. 

It could be because it sounds like a cry for help. But even though what I'm writing may sound that way, it isn't really. It's all part of it, part of the process. All part of the task ahead and the current state of play. I do feel that I need to write this about the following though; I am not writing this to fish for compliments, for friends and family to say I'm doing amazing and not to doubt myself. Nor am I writing as some sort of ego trip or a longing for affirmation that would validate my actions. I am also not writing this for some great outpouring of sympathy. I am acutely aware that I am not the first, or last, person to be going through this or the only one facing trials in life. Although it's about me, it's not really for me. This blog has never been about that. I don't want to be The Number One Dad singular. I would much prefer to be Back Up Dad to The Number One Mam. 

I am writing this because I know Aden and Hallie will read this one day. It is my sincere hope that they will read it and understand why I behaved in such a manner and why I made the decisions I made and will make in the future. Those times when I was stressed and lost my temper. Those times in the evening when I was tired and frustrated and snapped at them. Those times when I got it wrong. Those times, and there are many, when I just didn't know what to do. 

If truth be told I struggle with practically everything. And I struggle on a daily basis. On the outside it looks like I'm doing a good job and I'm coping admirably, but I'm plagued with doubt and worry, especially when it comes to the children. I feel I snap a lot. I feel that I say no too often. I feel incredibly guilty when I shout at them or get upset about something they have or haven't done even though I know that parents up and down the land, since the beginning of time, have gone through or are going through the exactly same thing. Children test barriers often and regularly. It's the nature of it. I just feel hopeless sometimes, most times. 

I wonder constantly if Laura would have done this or that even though I know that that in itself is holding my actions to a high, near impossible, standard. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Laura was a far better parent than I'll ever be. I tend to hold my annoyance more than Laura did. She was patient and understanding, I'm having to learn to be that. If they do something wrong my automatic response is that I want them to learn something from it but then I stupidly go about that lesson in the completely wrong way. I know this for a fact. I get it wrong because I'm approaching the whole scenario like an adult instead of a child. I have found that looking at it from their point of view is better, however, that thinking totally escapes me in the heat of the moment and I only think of it later. And mostly when it's too late. Everything is easier with the power of hindsight. 

I worry about the future. Their future. Will they be okay without the balance that Laura would have provided? I worry about my ability to be both parents. I don't even know if that's a feasible goal. 

I worry about my own health and about always being there for them. I've never worried about diet and exercise as much as I do now. I have never been so aware of my age and mortality as I am now. And even though I worry about it, ironically I don't do much to change it. I get into a panic about this regularly. 

I worry that I should talk to them about Laura more than we do. I worry that they are bottling up a lot of pain. I wonder what they are thinking. I know, writing this, makes me feel awful, as I should actually know what they are thinking or at least have a good idea. But in truth, I don't. We talk about Laura often, we mention her often, we look at her phone every day for memories but we don't talk about how they feel about it. I just don't want to upset them. They have gotten upset in the past so I don't want to do that to them again. Should I wait and let it run its course or should I meet it head on or should I subtly broach the subject? Until now I have been content to let them come to me and watch for any signs but I am worried that they are bottling too much up. What if they are afraid to come to me as they think they'll upset me? It can't be a good thing. We are in completely uncharted territory and the guide says that everyone reacts differently. So what exactly am I meant to do? 

All these fears are very real. They keep me awake at night. They sap my motivation. They chip away at my will power. There are good days and bad. On those bad days, and nights, I listen to The Voice.

The Voice lives in my head. The Voice is my own. But it is also not. It gives me advice and repeats everything that everyone is saying and thinking. All those supportive and helpful things. The Voice can be wise and assured. The Voice tells me in the midnight hour, whilst the kids are sleeping, that I needn't stress, that I shouldn't worry, that everything will be okay if I stick to my instincts. The Voice tells me that stressing about details and how I'm doing overall will help no one. The Voice echoes exactly what everyone is saying, that it's an incredibly tough task and I'm doing just fine. The Voice always gives me real advice that seems to point that things will be okay. But as with everything, there is an opposite force. The Negativity. The Negativity doesn't have a voice. It just is. It's background noise. A niggle. A worry. It chips in opinion like a heckler. I want to ignore it but I can't. It lingers. Even though it doesn't have a Voice, it doesn't make it any less pertinent or diminish its presence in any way. Even in the darkness it casts a shadow. 

There are times when I try to bend my will to make that voice sound like Laura. It never works. It is probably just as well. She'd probably tell me off for doubting myself and remind me that I have a job to do. However I do listen to The Voice and it calms me. I concentrate on it and try to block everything else out. It is difficult. The negativity is a creeping sense of panic, of anxiety and when it threatens to engulf me in the middle of the night or numb me in the loneliness of the day, and those overwhelming times when I miss Laura most, The Voice manages to lull me to sleep or motivates me into action. I've recently realised that The Voice isn't one person. It's you. It's all of you. It's what you said in passing. It's a note on messenger. It's a kind word. It's a gesture. A smile. A hello. 

Thank you for giving your kindness to The Voice. 

Precious Time

I didn't like my job. There I've said it. I did like it initially and probably for about half the 27 years I did it I did enjoy it. There were times in the other half that it was okay, times when I worked with really good people but generally I didn't enjoy it. Working 6 days a week, early starts, late finishes, 14 hour shifts (also known as AFD, All F*cking Day), rude customers, strict licencing laws, unachievable bonus system, shit wages, treated like a suspect if there were (explainable) stock shortages yet never rewarded for all the surpluses, no real work/balance, I could go on as the list is long. But, as usual, the great disclaimer, it paid the bills. 

I remember when the slide into my dislike happened. It was about 9 years ago. And it was when Aden was born. 

At first shift work is a bonus. I managed my shifts around Aden and it saved us a fortune on childcare and also meant I could have some quality time with him. The ultimate downside, however, is that in my profession I had to work weekends. This was compounded even further when Hallie arrived two years later and Aden started nursery. By the time both of them were at school/nursery my time with them was limited to the occasional evening and the one afternoon of the weekend. Even those evenings after you consider feeding them and getting them ready for bed, coupled with my own tiredness, it isn't that much time at all. I missed so much. Laura often attended their friends birthday parties and any special occasions without me as I "had to go to work". 

It annoys me on many levels to this day. I/we missed so many things together that other families did regularly. Going away for the day or weekend or simply making plans that didn't involve me either saying I couldn't go or do it, or keeping an eye on the clock when I was able to. I missed all that due to my job. Even when I said it paid the bills, it did. Just. Considering the job I was doing and the responsibility it entailed, the wage wasn't great. So I lament the fact that I sacrificed everything for a job that fundamentally didn't pay me well, had zero work/life balance and I basically didn't enjoy. It became even more apparent when Covid resulted in the entire licence trade going into lockdown. Lockdown, for me, was actually a blessing. Yes, I had the time to be more involved with the kids, from home-schooling to teaching them how to ride a bike but it was also about that time when Laura was first diagnosed with Primary Breast Cancer. So not only did it dawn on me how much time with the kids I had actually missed out on but it also, with Laura's diagnosis, brought into sharp focus how much more important family life is and how precious that time is.

The one thing that really gets me now is that Laura spent so much time with them in my absence and now all those memories have gone. I don't just mean the days away and occasions that there are pictures and memories of and details that others can supply, I mean the actual detail. Laura had a great memory for detail. She will have remembered all their firsts, silly little things that happened and things unique to them. She would have shared these things with me but I didn't bank them because you don't really think that way. I just presumed that Laura would always be here and therefore all her memories and stories would be intact too. While it could be argued that it's not worth getting upset about, that I need to concentrate on the future and making new memories, I still feel that loss acutely. There's a the wider issue to that loss. When my parents passed I wished I asked more questions regarding their history, our history. With Laura's passing and the subsequent loss of her memories, stories and thoughts, I feel a huge emptiness coupled with bitter disappointment as they cannot be replaced.

So why didn't I change things? I knew the job wasn't conducive to family life, so why didn't I do something about it? Well, I was too lazy and afraid. I was stuck in my ways. We used to talk about it often. Laura would urge me to do it and constantly remind me that it was only me that could do it, that it's not going to fall into my lap. We very rarely had crossed words but when we did it was always about my job. It wasn't just the kids I didn't see much of. I knew of some friends who have actually left the trade and it was the best thing they had every done. Their family life was now rich and full. But I didn't. I'd look for a bit, consider the options and promptly slip back into my old ways.

So I wish I had been braver. I missed too much. I sacrificed too much. The happiness. All those precious times and all that precious time. I can't take it back. But you can. If you feel you are missing out, then you probably are. If you feel something needs to change, then it probably does. Not everyone is in the same position. Many people with 9 to 5 jobs may not feel the same as they have weekends off and that bit of quality time but there will probably still be something that you are able to change for the better. It has been said to me on more than a few occasions recently that my situation has made some husbands and partners re-evaluate their own situation. Some wonder if their husbands will have coped as well as I have (more on this subject soon) as they don't have anything to do with finances and household administration etc,. Meanwhile husbands and partners have openly admitted to me that they don't have anything to do with certain things domestically and that they should really address this. Let me say this, I didn't either, so all of this is very new to me. Laura was this household. I said on the very first post of this blog that I'm mainly writing this for the kids and for myself but also for anyone else it may help. I said that if I helped just one person then it would be all worthwhile. This may be one of those occasions. The household dynamic doesn't always have to be the same. It isn't written in stone. Nothing will change unless you make changes.

Don't live to work. Take action. Have courage. We only get one shot at this. Your time is unbelievably precious. Remember that.

The Phone Call

 26th January 2022 4:30pm

"It's come back. I have secondary cancer. It's in my lungs and liver..."

That's all I really remember from that moment in time. 

There wasn't a dramatic slowing of time. It didn't stand still. I wasn't completely frozen in that moment. Instead, time rushed toward me. It had an end. Time for us was now completely different. 

We all know our time will come but the ending for the great majority of us is unknown. We are all here for a limited time. That is written in stone. We go through life and our day to days rarely considering that our time is finite. It's better that way. We, however, were now in a place where time had a full stop. It no longer stretched out before us full of opportunity, hopes and dreams.  For us, for Laura, time was now known to have an end.

We didn't know how long at the time. It wouldn't be for another two weeks before we found out. What we thought was a chest infection was actually the cancer returning. It had never actually gone away. She was diagnosed with Stage 4 Triple Negative Breast Cancer. Once her cancer had metastasized, spread to other parts of the body, the prognosis is bad. There is no cure. She was given a year. 

I said I would be there as soon as. I think I called my sister and told her so she could watch the children while I went to hospital. When I got to the ward she was sitting up in bed. I pulled the curtain around us and starting crying. I could barely get a word out while Laura let me cry. I can't recall our conversation. My mind won't let me remember the details. Laura, although upset, was also very calm. In her head I am sure she was already planning. She apologised for not waiting for me to be there when they gave her the results but she had to know. I think I just kept repeating how unfair this is, that she, being younger, was meant to outlive me, that she would be better equipped than me and basically how are we going to cope without her. None of this actually helped. She just kept calmly telling me that I'll be okay, while I cried my heart out. 

Laura had been in hospital for 4 days at that point and she was sent home the following day with some leaflets and websites we should look up. That was it. Left in limbo. Still in pain and now with the extra burden of her diagnosis. We heard nothing else until her appointment two weeks later. During that time Laura's health didn't improve with the medication she was given and although she was in a bad place mentally, she still managed to organise and attend Hallie's birthday party. At that party I remember her sitting to the side, pale and gaunt. No one at the party, except me and one of her best friends, knew about her diagnosis. I daresay that any of them knew about her primary cancer either, such was her determination to be business as usual. At the time I was torn between her and Hallie. Laura wanted me to focus on making her party perfect but I was constantly checking on her, even if it was just with a nod. It was only afterwards that it all truly dawned on me. She was sitting there, watching, smiling, in pain, knowing in her heart that this was possibly going to be last birthday party of Hallie's that she would see. All of those lasts Laura faced with incredible strength. Every, single, one of them. A week later she was back in hospital for another 6 days, too poorly to start her new chemo regime. She got through that too, in time for her own 40th and Aden's birthday, which followed in quick succession in March. Her determination to be there for the kids at this point was her drive. And it manifested itself in sheer willpower. 

During both these hospital stints I had been looking after the kids. Every time I picked them up from school they'd ask if Mammy was back home. They made cards and wrote messages. They slept in our bed every night and we would facetime her and send her videos and pictures. The videos and pictures kept her strength up...

26th January 2023 

...just like they do for me a year on. 

We are still here. In our bed. Every night we look at those pictures and videos. The adjustment has been made. They know Mam has gone. I am organising their first birthdays without her. It's been hard but she managed to organise these things at the worse time of her life. I'm doing my best. I'll get better at it with practice and because she left a detailed template. She inadvertently taught me what to do. I will get better at this. I know I will.

Time is on my side.