It marks the week last year that I watched green gloop run out of Emily's nose as her head shook and her eyes rolled up, down, up, down. Repetitive motions, rigours.
The shaking failed to alarm me anymore, it had for a long time been the norm for us.
The viscous fluid was new though, so, I panicked.
I shouted for my Mum.
Screamed actually.
She sprinted into the room, pushed the multiple nurses around Em's bed aside, and gently wiped Emily's face.
She looked at me, and I knew then.
She was calm, she was gentle, and she knew there was nothing she could do.
For anyone that knows my Mum, and knows how she's fought and battled over the years both for Emily and I, you will know how poignant a moment this was for us.
I sat next to my Mum, and I held Emily's hand. The hand the same exact size of mine, with identically long and thin fingers. Matching right down to the narrow nail beds. She didn't squeeze my hand, she didn't pull away from me, she didn't grip my hand excruciatingly tight like she used to when she was having her treatment.
Her hand just stayed in mine.
I held on.
I told her that I loved her, so much more than she could ever know.
She couldn't respond.
My Mum assured me that Em could hear me.
The next time I looked up from her face, all the nurses had gone.
My Mum began to sing a song we loved when we were tiny tots.
'Oh I love my Emily yes I do, I love my Emily Ros-a, oh I love my Emily yes I do, I love my Emily Rosey.'
I sat and inwardly swore my lifelong dedication to any God that would save my sister, I apologised for all my atheist sins.
I implored, I pleaded with her to stay.
The rest of the family came, and sat at the end of the room near the window.
My Mum took me into the hall,
She held my shoulders, and looked in my eyes,
'I think Emily will die tonight Beth, we only have a few hours now'.
She didn't wait for a response,
she just went back into Em's bedroom.
I went to follow her, but as I did I felt hot burning liquid shoot up my throat.
I ran through the kitchen and out the back door, my Uncle right on my heels.
The burning had spread, it was surging through my lungs, down into my stomach.
I leant on the doorframe, retching.
I tried to push the bile out, but nothing would come.
Nothing.
I took a breath in, searched my brain for thought...
GET A GRIP BETH. YOU'RE WASTING TIME, AND EMILY NEEDS YOU.
I sat back down next to my little sister, I picked up her hand again, cradling it.
I kissed her forehead,
'I love you stinker'.
It was then that the chain stoking started.
She was drifting away,
She was leaving to go somewhere I couldn't follow.
Her head leaned over to the left slightly,
She drew a deep breath in as my Mum whispered to her,
Go and be with your Grandad sweetheart, we're all here, and we all love you.
There was the purest of silences,
There was nothing.
And then, there was my Mum's voice...
'She's gone'.
I didn't let go of her hand.
I didn't let go of her hand.
No comments:
Post a Comment