One Last Time

"Peter, I need to tell you this—it is so important to me. When the cancer diagnosis was confirmed and it became obvious that I wouldn't survive, I became terrified of dying, absolutely petrified. I was having horrifying visions of the angel of death coming for me and dragging me, screaming, into oblivion."

"Oh Stella, my darling, how were you able to deal with that?"

"I wasn't, and it was getting worse," she replied. "Then I became desperate and hoped against hope that you might be prepared to see me and perhaps offer a little comfort. I hoped that you hadn't completely forsaken me after all this time. Then I woke up and saw you standing there and I could hardly contain myself."

"Yes, and instead of being strong for you, I broke down," I became self-critical.

"No, Peter that actually made things better. You could show that you were vulnerable but not run away from me. That gave me hope. Then you visited me every day, and I know you sacrificed your practice for me."

I started to reply, but she put her finger against my mouth. "Shh, let me finish," and I did.

"With the knowledge that you cared, I started to come to terms with the inevitable; I've been able to accept what can't be changed and I became able to deal with my limited future. Now I know I can go without the fear and horror, knowing that I am loved without reservation. Yes, I know about Carrie, but she is my daughter and we have strong family bonds. But you have come to me without hesitation. You never reproached me about the past or tried to justify yourself, and then, against all the odds, you were prepared to love me."

"It was simpler that that, my love," I responded, "I just wanted you, like I always wanted you. Yes, your body had changed, but you were still the Stella that I knew and loved. Nothing was ever going to change that."

"Oh, Boy, I love you so much. Please, my darling, please don't forget me."

"Stella, that will never happen—I've never forgotten you these past twenty years, and I'm not going to start now. Yes, change will happen, but your memory will stay in my heart until that, too, stops. Let me tell you something I sometimes tell my clients. You can't forget and shouldn't try. What you can do is to wrap those memories in tissue paper and store them in the back corner of the bottom drawer. They're always there and sometimes you can take them out and look at them. Life must go on and I will know that I am cured when I can remember but don't have to re-live—all the pain, sadness, hurt, sense of loss and grief around losing you."

"Peter," she said, and there was laughter in her voice, "don't grieve for me for too long. Then you need to find yourself a nice nubile girl who will adore you and give you lots of babies."

"Mmm, I'm not sure about that, but who knows, it is just possible that I could eventually find someone who might just about come within a hundred miles of you, but it will be a long, hard search."

Stella laughed, but it was clear that she was becoming quite weak, so I stood with her in my arms and settled her into her bed. "Thank you, my love," she whispered and was almost instantly asleep.

I left quietly, and returned next day, but Stella was soundly asleep. Then on the third day I had the phone call I had been dreading. Carrie rang me early, around 8.00 am just as I'd finished breakfast. "Peter, you'd better come quickly," her voice trembled through her tears. "The doctor says she has only a few hours left."

I made a rushed call to my receptionist to cancel all my appointments and left for the palliative care centre, arriving about an hour later. The nurse spoke to me as I rushed towards Stella's room. "Dr Craven, I'm afraid Stella has only a short time left. Her breathing is erratic," "Cheyne-Stokes?" I asked. "Yes," she confirmed. "Her blood pressure is down, she is taking no food or water, her hands are very cold and there is cyanosis in her hands and feet. She will be able to hear almost until the end, though, so keep talking to her."

"Thank you, Robyn," I just managed and went into Stella's room. Carrie was already there with tears trickling down her face. I sat next to Stella and took her cold hand in mine. That seemed to waken her very briefly as she whispered, "Boy," and I talked to her, telling her how much I loved her and that Carrie and I would be here for as long as necessary. I was rewarded with a smile, but in the event we did not have long to wait before Stella finally left us.

Reliving that moment brought me back to the quiet room, Carrie watching me with a resigned look on her face.

"Well, Carrie, it's all over now and we'll need to move on as best we can," I eventually conceded.

Carrie nodded her head then seemed to pull herself together. "One last thing, Peter. Mum made me promise to give you these," and reaching into her bag, she pulled out an envelope and a small wrapped box. The envelope was clearly a letter and opening it, I saw Stella's handwriting, now weak and rather spidery, but still quite legible.

"My darling Boy

I have been so blessed by your being here with me at the last, something I had only dreamed about before you arrived that day. I can't find the words to tell you how much that has meant to me. My pride and stubbornness prevented me from seeking to reconcile with you before—and, dare I say it, perhaps there was a little of that in you. Suffice it to say, I settled for second best and now bitterly regret having done so. What I will never regret and have never regretted is the love we shared for those two precious years.

I have found myself again in the warmth of your love and when you held me and loved me, I could easily have left then on a cloud of passion and joy to float into the next life—whatever that may be. Please, darling, remember me fondly, as I am sure you will, and smile to yourself when you do so; and I am equally sure about that. I have been able to draw strength from you to help me through the last painful days, and that is a gift without price, without measure, and words cannot tell you how special this has been and how wonderful you are.

In closing, my love, I can't do better than Mary Frye's lovely words:

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.

All I now have to leave you is my undying love for ever.

Yours always

Stella

PS I'm sure you will know what to do with the contents of the box.

PPS Please be kind to Carrie—she has been my rock for the past few difficult months, especially as you have now relinquished any animosity towards her.

PPPS (this next was written in even more fragile script that was quite difficult to decipher). After our little talk today, I had to add that you have saved me. Not my body for that has finally betrayed me. You have saved my soul with your unconditional love and that will carry me forward across the threshold.

Love always

S.

I sighed as tears started in my eyes. Carrie looked at me inquisitively and I handed her the letter without comment. She read through it then asked me, "Peter, would you be offended if I asked you for a copy of this?"

"Of course not," I replied. "We could ask the ever helpful Robyn if she could arrange a photocopy," which we did and it was done.

"Peter, I know it's none of my business, but please tell me what is in the box?"

I smiled and tore the wrapping off to reveal a small velvet covered case. I opened it and was almost struck dumb. "OH ... MY ... GOD!" I exclaimed with some force, and a tsunami of emotions and memories almost drowned me.

Looking over my shoulder, Carrie said, "That's an engagement ring, isn't it?"

"Oh yes, Carrie, that's an engagement ring, and, to my shame, I'd quite forgotten about it; in any case, I thought it was lost."

"But, ..., but, ..., but," she stammered.

I looked closely at Carrie but she was clearly confused. "Stella never told you, did she?"

"Told me what?" the confusion was still evident.

"Your mum and I were engaged to be married. I proposed about six weeks before the fateful Christmas, and we bought the ring together. This ring. We didn't tell anyone else although Stella always wore it when we were alone together. We'd been planning to tell the whole family at the big Christmas celebration that year, then two weeks before Christmas we broke up in that amazing confrontation. We had been living together for a while, but it had become evident that at that level we were too incompatible. I think we both fooled ourselves into believing that marriage would sort out the problems. When we jointly realised that it wouldn't, there was a monumental argument. Stella flung the ring at me and I stormed out. We did meet once more about two months later, but the wounds were unhealed, and it was an uncomfortable experience for both of us. That was the last time I saw Stella until a few weeks ago, although I did pick up the odd snippet around the tracks; I had heard about her relationship with Eddie but nothing really concrete—until you rang me."

"I see", Carrie was non-committal; I think she was very surprised by this revelation, although it could have little meaning for her now. "So what will you do about the ring?"

At this point I felt a strange sensation, almost like a tickle in my mind, and I knew without a doubt what should be done. "Carrie," I asked, "Are you arranging the funeral?" She nodded her head. "Then would you please arrange with the funeral director for this ring to be put on the third finger of her left hand before the burial?"

"Oh Peter, that is so beautiful," Carrie sighed. "Of course I will; that is the perfect way to resolve it."

The funeral was a few days later, and I had a call from Carrie asking me to be at the funeral home half an hour before the service started. I was curious, but arrived at the appointed time. Carrie gave me an unusually welcoming smile and took me to where Stella's coffin sat waiting. It was open, and Carrie said to me, "Look, Peter, just as you asked," and true enough, Stella's engagement ring shone in the dim light, on the third finger of her left hand. I bent and kissed her cold forehead one last time and looked at Carrie.

"Thank you so much, my dear, but I did trust you absolutely."

"No, it wasn't that, Peter," she replied quietly, "I wanted you to see how it looked for your sake."

I couldn't answer; my voice was choked with tears, but I held her lightly in my arms and kissed her, which seemed to satisfy Carrie.

The service was simple but moving, conducted by a civil celebrant; Stella had never had any strong religious faith. The celebrant had obviously spent some time with Stella as she caught up with me after the service saying, "You must be Peter, or should I call you 'Boy'?"

"Peter will do fine; you obviously got to know Stella very well."

"Part of the job, really, but she was a special lady and she did love you very much. I think you were a very lucky man," she finished. I smiled and shook her hand, and we moved away when those who were going left for the burial.

This, too, was a simple ceremony, and I dropped one red rose onto the coffin as it was lowered. I was debating whether to go to the so-called "wake", but I decided that I couldn't face Stella's family. I had caught site of Eddie skulking in the background and I was afraid that I might be tempted to deck him. Then I reflected that if he hadn't abandoned Stella, I might never have got to see her again. Clouds and silver linings.

I decided that I couldn't face the blend of false bonhomie and crocodile tears that were sure to be involved in the family send off. I sought out Carrie and made my apologies; she smiled briefly and thanked me again for all I had done for her mother. I looked deep into her eyes, seeing the pain but also the sense of defeat that seemed to be her constant companion. "Carrie," I said, "Don't forget that if I can ever be of any help to you, you only have to ask. You've got my number?" She smiled, a rather worn smile; I kissed her cheek and left; I needed to be alone for just a little while.

Leaving the cemetery, I drove to one of my favourite beaches to watch the sun go down. As I walked idly along the shoreline, I could have sworn I heard Stella's voice whispering one of her favourite sayings in my ear, "Life is short. Break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably, and never regret anything that makes you smile." It had to be my imagination of course—didn't it? It must also have been my imagination that I heard her warm, loving laughter, either that or it must have been the rippling and chuckling of the wavelets on the shore—mustn't it?

The sunset exploded in a glory of reds, oranges and yellows against a sky composed of infinite shades of blue. I smiled to myself and returned to the car.