Tell Me How This Ends

by Jo Leevers

‘The funny thing is . . .’ Here, Annie pauses to drink her tea. ‘When you look back, you don’t see your own life in an orderly way. It’s more like snapshots – like in a photo album. And sometimes it’s hard to remember the bits in between, like what happened the moment before the photo was taken or just after. Do you know what I mean?’

She does not wish to let any more details slip about Annie Doyle, to betray her confidences in this house where nothing of true consequence is ever spoken.

but in my eyes I have not lost a fight. I hate that kind of talk. I had the bad luck to get an incurable disease; it’s as simple as that and there’s no winning or losing side. It’s about cells, not bravery or battles.

At first, you’ll feel as if a huge hole has opened up in front of you. But slowly the edges will soften and the hole will start to fill up. As time goes on, you won’t fall into it quite so often and eventually you’ll be able to stand on the edge and look into it. Remember, grief is the price we pay for love. Be kind to yourselves – the first year will be the hardest – and love yourselves as much as I love you.