If Only I Could Tell You

by Hannah Beckerman

Regret. It was such a powerful word, a word that implied the desire for an undoing.

As they sang through the whole song Audrey wondered why on earth she had left it so long to do something that gave her such joy.

‘Mummy.’ One word, two syllables: enough to break Audrey’s heart.

She kisses Zoe again – twice, three times – knowing there will never be enough time for all the kisses she aches to give.

‘There’ll always be someone who disapproves of the choices you make. But as long as you understand the reasons for them, as long as you’re happy with them and no one’s unduly hurt by them, you need to be strong enough – brave enough – to make your own decisions.’

best. So many times Audrey had wanted to say to Lily: Your children have only one childhood. The years in which they need you – in which they really need you – flash by like a star shooting through the sky. A blink of an eye and they go from babies to toddlers. Another blink and they’re starting school. A third blink and they’re teenagers, stretching their wings and preparing for life without you.

It was as though her diagnosis had lost a little of its power now she had entrusted it to someone outside the family.

Wrapped inside Audrey’s singing was all the love, the loss, the grief and the guilt that she had been carrying inside her for almost thirty years.

But when you’re little you don’t want a role model. You just want a mum.’

‘All I ever wanted was to say goodbye.’

Because dealing with grief is probably the hardest thing any of us ever has to do?