Hello, I'm Beth (If you didn't already know)
Over the years I have continually tried and failed to find
words adequate enough to express to my Mum just how grateful I am for her
unwavering bravery, love and dedication. The way in which she nursed Emily at
home constantly throughout her short nineteen years on this earth was so
greatly impressive in such a multitude of ways, and yet she never saw it as
anything less than her duty.
It was my Mother’s emotional strength which allowed Emily to
die peacefully at home, with her close family sat around her in her cosy
bedroom. As Emily drew her very last breaths on this earth I was able to be
beside her, to talk to her and to hold her hand in mine. For this I will be
forever thankful.
The writing of this piece has many purposes, for many
different people. For me, the English Graduate of the family, it seems a
fitting way to work through the many emotions I am currently battling.
For my Mum, it serves as a way of letting the world know
about her amazingly brave, wise before her time, sassy youngest daughter.
For my youngest
sister, Molly, it will serve as a way of allowing her to gain an insight into
the years of Emily’s life before she arrived on the planet.
For my Dad, who
himself admits having horrible difficulty remembering the past, it will serve
as a way for him to relive the happiest, and the most challenging times of our
lives.
For my Uncle, Auntie and little cousins, it will be a way of
keeping Emily’s memory alive as they grow. They will be able to read it and re-read
it whenever they wish to.
For my loving Gran, it will be a way to reflect on the
multiple ways in which she looked after both Emily and I as we grew up, even
when her memory starts to fail her.
For my friends, maybe this will provide you with some
answers to questions I have never had the patience or time before to respond to.
For some of you, maybe this can provide some relief.
For most of you, it’ll give you a good chance to laugh and
cry either with us, or at us, we don’t mind!
I need to tell you at this point however that this will not
be an easy read. In order to make this a tale of purely happy moments I would
have had to leave out some of the most important moments in Emily’s life. It
would be heart-warming throughout, there is no doubt of that, and most likely it
would thus appeal to a far larger number of readers.
It would also be
untruthful, and be an entirely false representation of Emily herself. She was
imperfect, beautiful, mean at times, just like the rest of us. Quite frankly, I
didn’t want to write a soppy story about a lovely, caring, dying girl. Emily
wouldn’t want me to either. Parts of this story are embarrassing, parts are
hilarious, and some parts are hard to stomach.
That is the reality
of the life of someone living with such a rare and debilitating disease.
Lastly, I must apologise to my University lecturers, to my
college teachers, and to my future potential English students, (I have in the
past month finished my qualification to teach English to college age students).
Though I have studied creative writing in great depth, and have picked apart
the different possible uses of structure and innovative methods to intrigue and
entertain readers from around the globe, this piece will not be polished.
I don’t want it to be. Emily wasn’t polished, our lives
together weren’t polished. I’m not going to smooth and polish the memories I
have of us together, and I’m not even going to attempt to order them correctly.
Grief brings things back to you at the most ridiculous times, in the most
obscene orders. I don’t understand it, so I’m certainly not going to try and
alter it.
Actually, come to
think of it, I make no apologies for that at all.
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