means but I want to know more. We’ve been friends for years Rose and I, well, loose friends. We’re about the same age and we’ve both been through messy divorces and have worked a fair number of shifts together over the years.
I need to know more.
‘Did he get chest pain?’ I ask. ‘Did he say anything?’ I want to know if he said anything before he collapsed, I want to know if even for a minute he thought of me, of our girls, of the family we once were.
‘He was in full arrest when the paramedics got there,’ Rose says gently. ‘Let him rest,’ Rose says. ‘He’s with the Lord now.’ And that’s Rose - she’s all Lordy, Lordy, it gives her comfort and I want some. I’ve always had my faith but I don’t know what I believe tonight.
‘I’d better get up to Eleanor.’ I am so tired and there’s still so much to do, but just as I move to go, Rose stops me.
‘I called for the porters before I went off.’ I know that means that they're taking him to the mortuary. ‘Do you want to see him before he goes?’
‘Me?’
‘You were his wife for a long time,’ Rose says. ‘It might help you if you can say goodbye.’
‘Do you think it's allowed?’ I ask, because it seems a bit strange and I don't even know if I want to see him. I never really expected to be offered. Rose even makes me smile as she takes my arm and leads me inside.
‘Perk of the job,’ she says.
He looks older.
Dead too.
But the first thing I notice, as I walk in there, is how much older he looks - he was in his late forties when he left me – so of course he would look older, he’s coming up for sixty now.
I haven’t seen him for ages. I’ve seen photos but I haven’t seen him in the flesh for years, and I mean years. Not since Bonny left for Australia. He and Lucy had just got married, (I think because she was pregnant – she was always determined to get that ring) and Charlotte must be eleven or twelve now.
I look at his skin and it’s a waxy blue and I don’t want to touch him.
I just stand there and remember all the hurt.
‘What you did to me…’ I start. I feel the shame again and then I stop because it's done with now, dealt with I hope – all those nights I poured my heart out to a journal must surely count for something?
I look at the man who just walked away and started a new life.
What if I’d gone?
What if I’d been the one to walk away?
He knew I never would – that’s the difference between us.
He could walk away and just leave it all behind, not caring what it did to me. I poured my terrified heart out to those pages. Divorce wasn’t as common then. I just felt so ashamed, like I’d failed – I guess I had.
But I can't be angry any more and maybe finally there’s the forgiveness I’ve been searching for all these years.
After all, I’m still here.
Still standing.
‘Look after our girls,’ I say to him, because even if he was a useless husband he did love our girls. I believe in heaven but I don't know if he’s got there yet, or if he’s hovering around, but if there is anything he can do, I ask it of him now. I'm scared for my girls sometimes. Eleanor’s life’s a mess, and even though they live far away, I worry about our other girls too. I look down and I’m holding his cold hand and having a conversation that parents should have about their children. I’m sharing the pain and the fears - which is another thing he denied me by walking out the door. ‘Look after our girls,’ I say and then I feel guilty, because it's not just about my girls. I think of little Charlotte and how much she looks like him, how she actually looks like one of mine and I revise my request. ‘Look after all your girls,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t know where you are but, if you can, will you please look out for your girls.’
I feel drained after I’ve seen him.
In a way that I never have before, it’s as if all my energy has left with him.
I'm so tired I cannot tell you as I trudge up to maternity. I