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My entire body trembles as I focus on putting one foot in front of the other through the parking lot. Scott reaches for my hand and I can feel him shaking in my grasp. Over the years, we’ve talked about going so many places, but this is the last place we ever thought we would be.
“You know I love you and respect your decision, but I have to ask one last time; are you sure this is what you want to do?” Scott chokes on his words and I know I would see tears in his eyes if I looked at him, which is exactly why I focus on the pavement in front of me. Needing to feel him, needing to know I’m not alone in this, I reach for his hand. He squeezes tightly and offers me a forced smile.
“Of course it’s not what I want to do,” I snap. Sweat beads on my forehead and it has nothing to do with the heat of summer. We’ve been through this so many times, and we have to be on the same page when we walk through the doors of the clinic. “But if the alternative is slowly wasting away and making you all suffer along with me, then I want to be the one in control.”
The truth is, I’m tired of waking up every morning wondering if today is the day my cancer is going to get the best of me. After the doctors told me there was nothing they could do for me, I found different doctors. The second set suggested treatments that would prolong my life, but not for long and they were honest enough to tell me how painful the process would be. It was when I went for a third opinion that I found a doctor honest enough to give me an option I could live with. Or die with as it were.
I’ve recently had to give up running every morning because it causes me so much pain. I miss feeling the morning dew in the grass at the park cooling my ankles and the birds singing along the path, as if to say ‘good morning’ to me. I’ve tried driving to the coffee shop on Main Street, but it’s not the same to park at the curb and walk in as it is to reward myself after five miles of physical exertion. To some, that may seem like whining, but I have run every morning since seventh grade, even when I had a cold or the flu. Now, simply lacing my sneakers and walking to the end of the block is too much most days.
“Shelly, you can’t do this for anyone but you. Once we walk inside, I won’t say another word about it, but this is the time in your life when you need to be selfish.” Scott embraces me on the sidewalk, running his fingers through my long blonde hair. We jump to the side when two kids on skateboards sail through, screaming obscenities at one another. Scott doesn’t chew them out, which really says something about how upset he is. I look up at him and see tears flowing freely down his face, which sets off my own breakdown. “A piece of me is going to die along with you whether you go through with this or if you let nature take its course.”
“But this way, you can have good memories of our last days together. You won’t have to watch me wasting away every time you close your eyes. And you’ll never have to wonder if you could have done more,” I whisper, fisting the front of his t-shirt in my hands. “Because Scott, I promise you, you have done more than anyone in your position could be expected to do. You waited for me in front of all of
our friends and family on the beach, even though you knew there would be no ‘for better’ or ‘in health’ for us.”
“If I hadn’t been such a fool, we could have had all of that, at least for a while,” Scott points out. He brushes his thumb along my cheeks to dry my face. What he doesn’t understand is that we did have those happy times. The good times wouldn’t have been better if they had happened after we were married. Scott has given me the best eleven years of my life.
“You have to stop beating yourself up about what you could or should have done. We were both so young, and probably would have done a lot differently had we known it was going to come to this,” I scold him. And then I feel like a royal bitch because this is how he’s coping with what is happening. “Remember, this is the time of no regrets.”
Scott cups my face in his hands, wiping away my tears with his thumbs as he kisses me tenderly. Every kiss we share brings us one closer to our kiss goodbye. I ease into his embrace, parting my lips to allow his tongue entrance. The kiss continues until an old woman hisses in disgust at our public display. “Okay, then let’s do this,” Scott says solemnly.
I smooth the wrinkles in my bright emerald wrap dress. I’m still concerned that it’s too flashy with the plunging neckline and feel insecure about the way it accentuates the jut of my hips, but Scott loves this dress. Much of the afternoon was spent preparing for tonight. It’s bound to be a night filled with many tears, but my hope is that at least some of them will be tears of laughter.
Scott walks into the room and hugs me from behind, tenderly kissing my shoulder. He brushes the tendrils of hair back so he can bury his face in my neck. “You ready for this?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I tell him, letting out a deep breath. I put on the diamond and sapphire drop earrings Scott bought me for our first anniversary of dating, take one last look at my appearance, and nod.
All of the voices in our house dull to just over a whisper as Scott and I walk down the staircase. “Deep breaths, sweetheart,” he whispers as he kisses my cheek. I slide my frail hand into his strong one, staring at the differences I’m already noticing in my body. It only strengthens my resolve to follow through with my plan.
My parents rush to my side as soon as we enter the living room and Scott steps back to give them a few moments with me. I follow them through the house, wishing I hadn’t let my mother talk me into having everyone over tonight. While most of my family and friends are supportive, the hushed criticisms aren’t quiet enough to keep me from hearing them. It gives me pause, because I wonder if they’re going to judge Scott and my parents for supporting my decision after I’m gone.
My mother calls everyone to the formal dining room and we take our places around the table; Scott to my right, my father to my left, and everyone else fills in the empty seats. It seems strangely fitting to know that the two most important men in my life are by my side for this last meal.
“How’re you holding up, kid?” Dad asks, gently massaging the back of my neck. The table looks like a page out of a home-decorating magazine, with our wedding china and silverware set perfectly at each setting, with royal blue cloth napkins I’ve never seen resting on each plate.
My mother keeps herself busy, offering each guest their choice of white or red wine, disappearing into the kitchen when someone asks for anything other than wine. Scott excuses himself from the table to pour scotch into two glasses, one for himself and the other for my father. I could probably get away with drinking tonight, but I won’t risk it.
“It’s so strange,” I admit. “In a way, I wish everyone had a moment like this, but then the finality of everything hits me and I think about everything I’m going to miss.”
“There’s still time,” he reminds me. “There’s still so much you could do, if you put your mind to it. I know there is.”
This isn’t the first time he’s tried to talk me out of it, but this time there’s a desperation in his voice I haven’t heard previously. My stomach rolls, knowing the pain I’m causing everyone, but I remind myself that the alternative would be even more unbearable.
“I know what you mean, Daddy, but there really isn’t.” I squeeze his thigh beneath the table, wishing he could understand what every day is like for me. He wraps his arm around me, drawing me into his side to comfort me as the emotions choke me. No one knows how hard it has been for me to get out of bed for the past week because even twelve hours of sleep isn’t enough to revitalize me. I haven’t told anyone that I’ve lost ten pounds since my last appointment because they would try to force me to eat, which is also a struggle. I glance at my plate, grateful for Scott’s help, because he has given me small samples of my favorite foods without trying to overload me. “Even though I have doubts sometimes, I know I’m doing the right thing. It will be better for all of us this way.”
“I think you’re wrong, but it’s ultimately your decision.” Daddy dabs at the corner of his eyes and I lift my head to see if we have an audience. A few people seem to be doing a poor job of hiding their curiosity, but I can’t say I blame them. If the situation were different, I’d probably be sitting where they are, wondering how anyone could put those they love through this. “Don’t mind me, I’m being unfair. I just don’t want tonight to end because I know…”
“I get it, Daddy,” I assure him. Heck, if I could, I would stop time so we never had to say goodbye, but that’s impossible. No matter how many times I wish for it, Scott and I will never jump in his Land Rover, leaving town on a whim for the weekend. I’ll never teach another class. I’ll never feel the arms of a child around my neck, or hear them telling me that I’m the best. There are no more memories for me to make.
Scott places his hand on my knee, letting me know he’s there. I shift so I’m leaning on him for support, and he rests his chin on my shoulder and I turn to smile at him. We’ve been like this all day; holding hands
and staying in contact with one another as much as possible. This is it for us, the night I have to make him understand that nothing will change the fact that he’s a good man with people who love him.
The only time he isn’t by my side is when my mother decides that it’s time for everyone to go home. All of my friends and family form a twisted sort of receiving line, but instead of saying hello, we’re all saying goodbye. I take extra time with each person, committing their faces to memory, telling them how much I love them and what they’ve meant to my life.
I can hear people talking to Scott on the front porch, reminding him that they will be here for him in the days and months to come. That fills me with peace, knowing that he won’t be alone when I’m gone. Finally, the last person says goodnight and the door closes with a poignant thump.
Scott and I sit with my parents for an hour, talking about how tomorrow morning will unfold. My focus keeps drifting as more forgotten moments enter my mind. In a strange way, I can already feel myself detaching from this world and it’s as though I’m watching this conversation taking place rather than being a part of it.
When my mother says she wants to tuck me in, I don’t point out the fact that I’m a thirty-five year old woman, I simply follow her into the bedroom while Daddy and Scott lock up the house. Every parent’s biggest nightmare is the thought of having to bury a child, and she’s preparing to say goodbye to her only child. They had problems getting pregnant before me, and again after. She’s always told me that I’m her miracle.
“You know, I still remember the day you were born,” she tells me as I start my nighttime routine for the last time. She follows me into the bathroom, watching as I brush my teeth, pull my hair back, and wash my face. I don’t bother with moisturizer tonight, because it seems pointless. “We were all set to drive through a blizzard when I went into labor, but that day was unseasonably warm and the snow held off. We joked that you were so sunny that the winter winds didn’t stand a chance. Your father even tried to convince me to name you Sunny instead of Michelle, but I wouldn’t hear of it.”
I’ve heard this story at least a hundred times throughout my life, probably half of those since my latest diagnosis. I silently lead her to the bed and pat the mattress next to me so we can curl up the way we did when
I was a little girl.
“What I will remember the most about you is your bravery. No matter what life threw your way, you faced it head on,” she sobs. I consider reaching for the box of tissues but decide that would just make one more mess to be cleaned up tomorrow. “You were never afraid of anything in your life.”
“You’re wrong, Mama,” I correct her. I turn on my side and rest my head against her chest. “I may not have shown it, but I’ve been scared plenty of times in my life. And even though it’s my choice, I’m more terrified right now than I ever have been before.”
She has to know that this isn’t easy for me. I don’t want her questioning whether or not she loved me enough, if she could have done more for me to keep me from choosing to die on my own terms.
“I don’t want to die, Mama, but it’s going to happen either way. I fought this crap as a kid and won, and we have to consider that a blessing because it gave us almost twenty more years together.” I comb my fingers through her long gray hair, thinking how much coarser it is now than I remember from when we were both younger. The simple feeling of her long hair sliding between my fingers has always comforted me, no matter how upset I am. “There’s no winning this time, but I can make sure you don’t have to watch me get sicker and sicker until it tears you apart. In some way, I have to look at this like ripping off a bandaid. It’s scary, but I have no choice but to do it so I’m making it quick.”
“See? That’s what I mean. You’re the bravest person I know and I will thank God every day for giving me these years with you.” She kisses the top of my head and her body heaves in shuddered breaths. “I love you, Michelle. I don’t know how we’ll all go one without you, but as long as you promise you’ll be watching over us, we will all find a way.”
“I will be, Mama. You won’t be able to see me, but I’ll be with all of you, always.” I slide down the mattress, tucking my arm under my pillow. Mama pulls the covers up to my neck and lays down next to me, stroking my hair as I cry myself to sleep.
Sometime in the night, Mama leaves and Scott pulls me against his chest. I’ve been restless all night, drifting in and out of sleep, but I focus on my breathing, hoping he won’t realize that I’m awake. This is the way we’ve fallen asleep every night for the past ten years and I hate that he’ll never have this feeling again.
The next thing I know, sunlight streams through the sheer curtains, casting
a brilliant gold light over Scott’s deep tan. I lie perfectly still, allowing the gravity of today to settle in as I watch him sleep. I wonder how long it will be before anyone sees the dimples I love that appear when he laughs, if his grief will leave permanent scars in the form of lines on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes.
I worry that it will be months, maybe longer, before he looks as peaceful as he does right now. He’s always been an intense man who holds onto anger because it’s an easier emotion to show than pain and vulnerability. I don’t want my death to be the event that turns him into a perpetually angry and bitter man.
“Morning,” Scott groans, his voice still rough with sleep. He scrubs his eyes, opening them slowly to adjust to the light.
“Hey,” I sigh. We stare into one another’s eyes as the sun climbs higher in the sky, neither of us willing to face the reality waiting for us on the other side of our bedroom door. “This is it, huh?”
“Yeah,” he chokes out. I thought we would be cried out by now, but I was wrong. As his hands ghost along the lines of my body, my vision becomes blurred to the point I can barely see him and I know he’s in the same condition. “I have no clue how I’m going to say goodbye to you, Shelly. I’m not ready.”
“Shh,” I soothe him. I clench my eyes tight, praying for the strength to be what he needs for every second possible. “I’m not, either. But whether I take the pills or not, it won’t change what’s happening. When you think of me a year from now or twenty years from now, I want this to be the way you remember me. I want you to know that I lived my life to the fullest and that it was all possible because of you. And most of all, I don’t want you to remember me suffering for days or weeks before a painful end.”
“I know, Shel, but fuck, how am I supposed to do this?” Scott’s entire body heaves as he bawls against my chest. “How am I supposed to sit next to you, knowing that I’ll never see you again?”
“Not never,” I promise him. “You’ll see me again, just not in this world.”
I hold Scott close
as he sobs so hard he’s incapable of speaking. I thought I would be the one to fall apart, but now that the earlier tears have dried, I feel at peace. This is the time I can offer the rest of my family the comfort to carry them through the hardest days they’re bound to face.
“How can you be so calm?” Scott asks me, peppering kisses over my entire face.
“Because I know I’m doing the right thing. I need you to understand that I’m doing this because of how much I love you, nothing else. I can die in peace as long as I know that you’ll live your life.” I grasp his jaw tightly, not allowing him to break eye contact. “You have to promise me that you won’t let my death break you.”
“I can’t do that,” he mumbles. “I can only tell you that I’ll try. It won’t be any time soon, though. You’re one hell of a woman and I don’t think there will ever be anyone who can compare to you. Hell, if it took me years to admit that I loved you, the person who knew everything about me, do you really think there will be anyone else I can open up to?”
A soft knock on the door brings an abrupt end to our time alone. Scott holds out my robe and I slide my arms into the sleeves, allowing him to turn me in his arms to tie it closed. “There won’t be a single day that goes by that I won’t wish we didn’t have to deal with today. It’s going to kill me every time I have to think about the day I let you go, but I’ll get through it because I’ve never been able to not give you what you want.
“Michelle Elizabeth, you are the only woman I have ever loved and I know I’m the luckiest man in the world to be granted the privilege to call you my wife,” Scott whispers the same vows he spoke with confidence on the day we got married. “I promise to spend every day I have on this Earth doing everything in my power to make you happy. I will love you, cherish you, and honor you until I take my last breath.”
He’s hanging onto his emotions, but just barely. I run my fingers through his hair, pressing my forehead to his. I kiss away his tears, wishing I could take the pain with them.
“Oh, Scott,” I sigh. “You’ve been the most amazing friend, boyfriend, and husband a girl could ask for. You say that you’re the lucky one, but I think that’s me. When we found out that the cancer was back, I begged you to leave me to spare yourself this pain, but you refused. I still question your sanity, but these past eight months as your wife have been some of the best of my life, even with all the crap.”
Daddy calls to us softly, letting us know Mama has breakfast ready. I don’t know why she bothered because I’d bet none of them will be able to eat a bite, but that’s what mom does when she’s upset. Part of me wonders if she’s hoping that I will forget the instructions from
the doctor and eat so there’s time for me to change my mind and be rushed to the hospital for treatment. That won’t happen, but she’s the one who’s struggling the most with my decision.
“We’ll be there shortly,” Scott responds. We continue standing in the middle of the bedroom, willing time to stop. He leads me into the bathroom and draws a hot bubble bath, kneeling next to the tub as he washes me. When the water begins to cool, he holds out a towel to wrap around my body. Step by step, Scott shows me the side no one else gets to see as he helps me dress, brushes and dries my hair, and sits next to me while I put on my makeup before we head downstairs.
After nearly an hour of awkward silence broken only by the clinking of food being pushed around our plates, Daddy stands and begins clearing dishes. I follow him, reaching into the pocket of my robe for the packet of pills.
“That them?” Daddy asks, seeing the small yellow envelope in my hand.
“Yeah,” I say softly, wishing I had waited until no one was in the kitchen to start crushing the pills. I don’t want any of them to be a part of this because it will open them up to the guilt of feeling as if they were partially responsible for my death. His meaty hand wraps around my wrist as I try to stash them away.
“Give them here.” He holds out his hand until I let go. “You said these have to be crushed?”
“Daddy, you don’t have to do this.” Without pausing, I watch as he dumps nearly a hundred pills into a plastic baggie and begins crushing them. Seeing them laid out on the counter, it seems like overkill, but this is what the doctor said is necessary.
“Never said I did, Kiddo,” he says bluntly. He coughs when his words hitch, turning away from me to brush his hands over his face. “On the other hand, I made you a promise when you were a baby that you’d never have to go through the hard times alone. As far as I’m concerned, it won’t get any harder than this.”
I run across the room and jump into his arms. “Oh, Daddy,” I cry, burying my face in his neck, inhaling his Old Spice aftershave one last time. “I love that you want to help, but I can’t ask you to do this. It’s enough for me that you’re going to be here and that you’re going to take care of Scott when I’m gone. He’s going to need these shoulders, whether he’ll admit it or not. I’m not worried about what’s going to happen to me now, but I am nervous that he’ll just give up.”
“That won’t happen, Shelly. If I have to make it my full time job, I’ll make sure that boy is okay, ...
