This is for them.
Every stroke of the pen, every word I write; it’s all for them. My two favourite people, the little team that I desperately wish I didn’t have to leave behind.
Cancer is a bastard.
I look down at the letter I’ve just written and tears spring to my eyes. I’ve been doing this for a while – distilling everything I want my husband and daughter to know into short, easily read letters – but today I’m struck by just how sad this is. I’m thirty years old and should be in the prime of my life. Evan and I should be that annoyingly perfect couple, still blissfully happy after ten years of marriage, and I should be the best mummy in the world to Violet. Instead, I’m preparing my family for a life without me because cancer has wiped away our future.
It’s not bloody fair.
My hands ball into fists and I screw my eyes shut, resisting the urge to scream. Evan and Violet are downstairs, playing a game of some sort, and I don’t want to ruin it. That’s all they need; me screaming like a banshee and frightening the life out of them. I imagine them together, just for a second, Evan lifting Violet into his arms and spinning her around while she giggles. For that brief moment, the sadness and tragedy melt away, and I almost forget how ill I am.
Maybe I could join them, just for a little while. It wouldn’t do any harm, would it? Might even make me feel a bit better. Evan will fuss and try to send me back to bed, but I want some carefree, silly time with Violet. We could play a game or read a book or…
Pain ripples through my body as I try to get out of bed. Every muscle feels as though it’s on fire and my breath is immediately ripped from my lungs. I sink back onto the pillow and try my best to stifle a sob. Even the simplest of things, like going downstairs to see my family, are becoming harder.
There isn’t much time left. I can feel it in my bones. My body is slowly giving up the fight and soon, I’ll be nothing more than a collection of memories. A name that Evan can’t bear to say, and Violet doesn’t quite remember. I’ll whisper at the edges of their thoughts, looking for a way in, determined to stay with them as long as possible. I don’t want them to forget me. Even thinking about it breaks my heart.
That’s why this book of letters is so important. I glance at it as it lies upturned on the bed, its glossy purple cover catching the weak sunlight. Hidden within its pages is my legacy, everything I want Evan and Violet to know but won’t be around to tell them. I’ll be here whenever they need me, giving them a gentle nudge or some words of advice. As long as they have this book, I’ll never be gone. Not really.
I pick it up and put my pen to my lips. It’s time to write another letter.