Friday 14:45
She lets me hold her hand, then starts to cry.
Seeing Anna in a hospital bed reminds me of when our daughter was born. It’s as though the years and hurt and pain fall away, and we’re back. Perhaps not where we started, but to a place before we got broken.
The truth is, although it sounds like I have a plan, I don’t really know what happens next. But maybe I don’t need to. Maybe life already has a plan for us all, and we only get lost when we shy away from it, through fear, or pain, or heartbreak. Charlotte’s death broke us, there is no doubt about that. But sometimes when things get broken, they can be fixed. It just takes time and patience.
I let go of Anna’s hand because I’m confused by what this is. She stares at her fingers, as though I might have hurt her by holding on too tight, and I wonder if maybe I always did. I haven’t slept for days, and I don’t want to make anything worse than it already is for anyone, by saying or doing the wrong thing.
‘I should go,’ I say, and she looks confused. ‘Visiting hours, remember? I’m already breaking the rules.’
She nods, but can see straight through me. Just like she always could. Anna avoids my eyes as though afraid of what she might find there. Then she asks a final question. So simple and yet loaded with meaning for us both.
‘Will you come back later?’
‘Of course.’
I kiss her ever so gently on the forehead, then leave without looking back. I didn’t need to think about it before I answered, but that doesn’t mean it was true.