Unexpected Goodbye

One week every summer since I started university, I come and visit my mum. Our home has a very distinct comfort. It looks like a townhouse, red bricks with white window shutters. When you first walk in, you see the stairs that lead to our childhood rooms, to the right you see our small living room, and walking towards the back of our house is the kitchen. We also have a small backyard that we use during the summers to barbeque.

I drop my luggage at the base of the stairs and meet my mom in the living room. Immediately I am greeted with a warm hug and notice that our coffee table has been set up for afternoon tea. Mum and I have a seat as she hands me my saucer, “Mum, I know I normally stay the whole week, but I can only manage to stay a few days this time. I hope that’s okay.” I say.

She freezes in her tracks, almost spilling the tea. What an odd reaction, I think to myself. I assumed she would be fine considering that my older sister is coming in later this week and we all know, she’s the favourite.

Mum bites her lip and turns away from me but I still see the tears start to build. My heart quickens in confusion, what is happening?

“Mum? What is wrong?” I ask.

“I know I’ve always been hard on you, and I know that is why you only come home once a week over your summer break…” she takes in a quivering breath, “I am sorry that I have tried for so many years to ground you instead of letting you fly. But please, in these last few days that I have, I want to live with the spirit of adventure you have.” She can’t hide the tears any longer, as they drip onto her blouse.

I set down my tea and saucer, scooting towards her to pull her into a hug. “It’s ok Mum.” I’m trying to process what she said, “What do you mean last few days?” She shakes her head back and forth against my shoulder. She can’t bring herself to say it, but I know despite her silence. “Will Meg make it in time to say goodbye?”

Mum pulls away, wiping the tears off of her face. “I think so.”

We finish the tea and I head upstairs to my room. The thought of my sister possibly not making it drives me mad. I try to call her as Mum freshens up, but she doesn’t answer. I text.

Maddie: Hey Meg, Mum just gave me some very sad news. We need you to make it in tonight. Call or text as soon as possible.

I unpack and organize my belongings in my childhood room, desperate for Meg’s input. Ten minutes later my phone vibrates.

Meg: That’s rather odd. I figured she would’ve told you by now. I am actually arriving shortly at the station. Could you and Mum come pick me up, please?

Maddie: Told me what?! Mum never keeps secrets from me, why would she now?

Mum and I drive in silence to the station. I catch a glimpse of her messing with the black Moleskine notebook. Mum always carries it with her wherever she goes. I help Mum out of the car, I glance at her and notice she looks worse than earlier. She looks delicate, like a withering flower. Meg takes forever to arrive and my initial shock is turning into irritation the longer we wait. We see the back of Megan’s head and a wide smile covers Mum’s face. As we wait for Meg to get her bags, Mum’s smile quickly disappears, and she collapses. Her head hit the hard concrete and the notebook skids out of her hand under the car.

“Mum!” I scream. I kneel beside her and start shaking her for a response. She doesn’t move. I am panicking and all I can think of is giving her CPR.

“Meg! Call 999!” I yell as my sister runs towards me. I start chest compressions and out of the corner of my eye I see Meg pick something up off of the floor.

It feels like hours pass before the ambulance arrives. The paramedics check her pulse. It is weak, but they have hope. They load Mum on the stretcher and speed to the nearest hospital. Megan and I following close behind.

Mum gets taken into the ER and we try to follow, but a nurse guides my sister and I into the waiting area. She looks at us with sad eyes and says, “I will be back when there is new about your Mum.” Meg and I can only bring ourselves to nod, wide-eyed.

We collapse in the cold, hard, plastic chairs and look at the mostly empty room around us. I can’t take it anymore, turning to Meg, I ask, “What on Earth isn’t Mum telling me?”

Meg scratches her head looking down at the ground, “Mum… has a brain tumour. Well, when she found out, the doctor said she had two months left to live. That was about…” I can see the hesitation and guilt on her face as she twists the ends of her hair. “A month and a half ago. She told me when I last visited and made me promise not to tell you.”

“Why?” I ask.

She shrugs, “I know she asked me to give this to you when the time came.” Meg hands me the small black book. “I am glad she had it with her in the car.”

I grab it eagerly and start reading. In the first few pages there is a list of Mum’s favourite memories of me growing up, there are photos pasted inside. I keep flipping through and a neatly folded letter falls out, I pick it up, but just as soon as I am about to open it, the nurse comes out. She looks at me and then at my sister, “I am so sorry. We did what we could, but we were not able to save her.”

In that moment all I feel is the air being stolen from my body as I slide out of the chair and onto the floor. I am crying hard and shaking my head no. Megan lifts me up off the floor and helps me into our car. I see her go back inside and a couple of minutes go by. She comes back with a piece of paper releasing Mum’s body to the funeral home. I don’t remember the drive home, going upstairs, or even taking a shower and getting into bed. I glace at my nightstand and grab the little black book. The letter slides into my lap and I feel a tear fall down my cheek.

Dear Madeline,

I love you so much. Thank you for all the lessons you have taught me. I am sorry for always being so strict. I know that you think Megan always came off as my favorite, but truly, we are just a lot alike. We are able to adapt and carry on regardless of the traumatic situation.

I am sorry I did not tell you of my tumor. I couldn’t bare to be a burden and distract you from school. I know what you’re thinking, why did I tell Megan? Well, I told her because I knew she was only going to take the news as “It is only a matter of time before everything goes back to normal.” Megan is simple and ever-present. She did what she could, but the burden of my death will not weigh on her. Like I know it will on you. I have given her so much over the years and I fear I’ve neglected my duty as a mother to you. So, I want to leave you something that I hope will in part make up for my missteps. The house and a little over $20,000. I know you will take great care of the house and the money will let that adventurous spirit soar.

Please don’t beat yourself up over my death, there was nothing that could’ve been done to help me.

With all my love,

Mum.

I place the letter back in the small black book and clutch it against my chest. I curl on my bed and cry. The type of crying that hurts so bad you have to cover your mouth because the groans escaping your lips scare you.

The next morning getting out of bed was hard. My body felt stiff as if I had been tackled by a rugby player. I walk out into the kitchen and see a tray of blueberry scones, carefully I glance around the kitchen and into the dining room. “Meg! Who made the scones?!” I yell. The house is deadly quiet. In the corner of my eye, I see that the guest bedroom door is slightly open, I walk over and give the door a little push. In the bedroom, I see Aunt Cat’s ever so familiar suitcase, full of glitter and bedazzled gems. The next few days fly by and Meg, Aunt Cat, and I organize Mum’s things and prepare for the funeral.

Our entire family gathers for Mum’s funeral. We are shocked it wasn’t pouring, all we get is a slight drizzle. Aunt Cat and Meg are the last people to say goodbye. I ask for a few moments to say my goodbyes before we bury her.

I look down at her casket, my face stiff from all the crying. “Mum, thank you for all the lessons you taught me. I am sorry we never properly got to say goodbye, I love you more than words can describe.” I pull Mum’s notebook out of my purse and give it one tight hug, this would’ve been the hug I gave her if we had the chance. I nod at the undertaker and he starts covering her casket.