Moving on

We are tracing lines in the sand with our fingers. My daughter and I. It is a strangely calming feeling. At this moment all I feel is intense love for her and a sense of peace with myself. She pushes some unruly strands of hair behind her ears and concentrates on tracing a shape in the sand tray. She is drawing a fish shape. 

Then she picks up a shell from the box beside it and looks up at me with big wide eyes. It is how beautifully we communicate without words that send a sharp pang of pain through my heart. Her look says: do you think I should use this? I nod imperceptibly feeling the prick of tears behind my lashes. As she bends down to continue her decoration I walk out of the room and into the adjoining bathroom to cry. I don’t want her to see me like this but I can’t help my tears. ‘How will I live without her?’ I think and then realise I won’t have to because I am dying.

We are at the therapist’s office. Monday and Friday afternoons we come here, just the two of us; so that my daughter can understand that her mother will not be alive for her next birthday. So far we have read story books together, painted cards, written letters to each other and spoken about the death of our pet cat Toby. She understands what death is, she is seven years old. She knows that I am ill, that Daddy is worried, that I stay in bed for long periods and go to the hospital very frequently. I believe she knows that I am dying but refuses to believe it. 

I catch her looking at me when she thinks I am focusing elsewhere. She quickly looks away when our eyes meet. The therapist says that the questions will come inevitably. That is why we come for therapy. To bring her to the stage where she can articulate her thoughts and face her fear that I am going to leave her forever. Initially it broke my heart to do this; I did not want to come. But I understand now that she is the one who has to continue living. Her wellbeing and understanding are my primary concern now. She should be able to ask all her questions, go through her feelings of pain and loss and say a proper goodbye to me.