I sounded so calm, so serene, it confused me because inside I was screaming.
“You have to help her, Erica.” I felt my hands shake. “I’m not ready for her to leave me. Please. We were supposed to have more time.”
Erica and the other nurses didn’t help my mum at all and I knew why. She made the decision to not be resuscitated when she . . . when she died. She was at the end of her life; when she went, she wouldn’t get any help from anyone.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Erica said. “Time of death, 2.06 p.m..”
“No.” I moved to the bedside. “This is wrong, this isn’t real.” I took my Mum’s warm hand in mine. “Don’t leave me.”
She didn’t reply and I couldn’t accept that she never would.
“God,” I felt my heart pound against my chest. “Please, don’t do this to me. Don’t take my mum away from me.”
I didn’t realise I was having an asthma attack until drawing in a deep breath was suddenly impossible. I gasped as my hand went to my chest, which felt like a weight was sitting on it. My vision distorted and a loud ringing sounded in my head. I felt hands on me and I heard voices but none of them were clear. Everything was out of focus and inaudible. It was only when my mouth was opened and the familiar tip of my inhaler entered that I forced myself to inhale. The usual taste of chemicals coated my tongue. It was odd, but I always liked the taste because I associated it with being able to breathe. I thought of this as I inhaled a few more puffs.
Slowly, I blinked the room back into focus.
“There we go.” Erica’s face came into view. “Slow and steady breaths for me, Frankie. That’s it, girlie.”
I kept my eyes on Erica as I followed her instructions. I realised I was sitting on the floor after a minute or two, I just wasn’t sure how long I had been down for. Nothing throbbed or ached, which told me I didn’t fall. My brain told me that Erica and the carers likely eased me down to keep me from collapsing and hurting myself.
“My mum,” I rasped. “My mum.”
“Just breathe for me, sweetheart. Just breathe.”
I could breathe now, I could inhale and exhale a breath without struggling, but on the inside I felt choked with pain. I ignored the women as I pushed myself to my feet. I turned and stumbled over to my mother’s bedside. I reached out and put my hands on her face. The calmness and confusion that I previously felt fled, and wild panic overcame me when my mind began to comprehend what was happening. I screamed and cried until no sound came out.
I thought I felt pain before, but that was nothing compared to the hollow, aching darkness that claimed me once the light of my mother’s life went out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
FRANKIE
People said the words ‘I’m sorry’ a lot when someone died.
Hours ago, when my mum passed away, I thought I would die too. The pain I felt consumed me and it grew stronger until I couldn’t scream anymore, until it hurt so bad that silence enveloped me in its embrace. Everything became a blur. I remembered Michael running into the room, I remembered him crying and kissing my mum, I remembered him hugging me. I recalled the moment Enda arrived and her whimpers sent echoes around the room. Then her sons came by, then Joe and even Anna. The nurses popped in and out to check on us.
All of them told me they were sorry but what they didn’t know was that I was more sorry than any of them could ever have been for my mum dying. I had silently pleaded with God, hoping if He knew just how sorry I was that He would take pity on me and give her back to me but I knew that now God had the wonder that was my mum there was no way He was ever going to let her go.
She was love, happiness and light. All of the things meant for heaven.
The whistle of the wind outside drew my attention. I realised I was once again alone with Mum. Michael and Enda had tried talking to me, but once I sat down on the chair next to my mum’s bed, I couldn’t hear anything. I could barely see. My mind wandered elsewhere . . . just like my mum’s once did. I flicked my eyes to the closed door, I heard voices outside. I knew one of them belonged to Michael.
I turned my head and felt the ache of pain in my chest that had come to make itself comfortably at home. I couldn’t stop looking at her beautiful, serene face. I kept willing her to open her eyes and start breathing again just so I could feel like I could breathe again. The logical side of my brain didn’t even argue with me, it wanted her to wake up too.
“Cherry?”
Through my haze I turned, and through swollen, stinging eyes I saw him in the doorway. He was a presence and he had no idea how happy my heart was to see him even though part of it was broken because of him. Everything that happened between us at his concert seemed like a distant memory. The past few hours had been the longest of my life.
“My mum is dead, Risk.”
He crossed the room, got on his knees before me and placed his hands on either side of my face. I stared into his bloodshot eyes and I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to hurt any worse but it did. He had taken something before he’d come by to see me. The evidence was in his beautiful eyes.
“I know, baby. I know.”
I leaned my face against his, too empty inside to even shed another tear.
“I’m dead without her too.” I
