Broken Dreams

“Well, Jess, you sure know how to wound me.”

“Well, Rob, you sure know how to keep us broke.”

“I just said that a client pulled out. Not all the clients. Just one.”

“Rob, that client was the paying one. None of the others are paying.”

“She’ll be right Jess. You’ll see.” 

“I’m not sure that I can see Rob. Can’t you lay off the bottle and your grand plans to set up yet another business and just settle down to a stable job that pays us a regular wage?”

“Easy on Jess. That’s quite a leap. I am hardly an alcoholic. Just because I like a few beers at the end of the week. I am just trying to set us up. Everything I do, every idea I have is for this family. All I am trying to do is to give you and the kids a better life. Better than I had at any rate.”

Rob slumped down in a kitchen chair. 

“Rob,” said Jess with a hint of softness, “I know that you are always running from the shadow of the poverty you came from but we’re just not getting anywhere. All these ideas you have – the upholstery business, the handyman business, the signage on the motorbikes business – they never make any money or not enough anyway. 

We need to get some money behind us. I’ve just about given up on the idea of buying a house but we at least need enough to cover the rent each month without having to scrimp on food. We need some money left over for the kids to go to the movies with their friends over the holidays or to have one pair of decent runners.”

Jess paused and sipped her tea.

Rob stayed slumped and silent.

Jess sighed, “I’m starting to think that it would be easier if I got my own place with the kids. Something smaller. Cheaper. You can still see the kids whenever you like. I think I’d be happier on my own with the kids. The way we’re going, I’m becoming a combination of your mother, your housekeeper and a giant wet blanket.”

Rob’s mouth opened wide. “What do you mean, get your own place? This signage business is going to take off. I know it will. Live apart? You and the kids are my everything.”

“I’m sorry Rob. But you’re not my everything any more. I just don’t want to live my life scratching for money and wondering where the next dollar is coming from. I am sick of going to sleep worrying about money and waking up worrying about money.” 

Jess sighed again, “I’m tired of feeling like the only adult in the family. I’m just. Plain. Tired. It’s late. I’m going to bed.”

In the middle of dying

“It’s Stage 4.”

That visit to the oncologist was three months ago. I was given six months to live so I am officially dead smack in the middle of dying.

Nothing like being told you’ve got terminal Cancer. Talk about being rocketed into a spinning whirlpool of nurses, shock, hospitals, disbelief, specialists, sadness, pain relief, despair, experimental drugs, grief…and more grief. Grief from family and friends and grief from me as I struggle to reconcile being robbed of years of my life.

I can’t really remember much of the visit to the oncologist. It felt like I was watching myself from the corner of the room. My mouth was open but no words were coming out. I numbly fumbled in my pocket for a tissue. My Wife, Ange, clutched her silver locket and silently wept. 

Ange and I have been married for 42 years. We have had those hypothetical conversations about what we would do if one of us faced terminal disease, whether we wanted to be buried or cremated, blah, blah. Well, hypothetical conversations about dying are not the same as being told you are dying and that there is nothing you can f***ing do about it.

I don’t swear normally but Cancer changes a person. It makes me angry. It makes me sad. It makes me resolute. I will do whatever I can to buy time. Any amount of time. And I will bloody well enjoy the time I have left.

Telling the kids was hard. F***ing hard. We had them all over for dinner and told them. The utter helplessness I felt watching the kids’ shock and tears was worse pain than if I had torn my arms out of their sockets.

We told the kids we wanted to spend as much time as possible at our beach house – the house I’d built and extended as the family grew and where Ange and I were the happiest. My favourite times were spent at Tideways beach – lolling in the water, reading, taking the dogs for a walk, making sandcastles with my kids and, now, my grandkids. So many happy times woven into a lattice so tight that just the thought of Tideways warms me with joy.

So here we all are at the beach enjoying the couple of weeks after Christmas. Three generations building sandcastles and layering memories. Well, the memories are not for me but it has been special seeing the family I have created all gathered. Bittersweet but special.

The family doesn’t know it yet but, whilst I go off for a rest each afternoon, I am filming little videos for each of them on my phone – Ange, the kids, the grandkids and the yet to be born grandkids. Cancer might steal some years from me but it isn’t going to steal what I’ve learnt about life, happiness and love. Those lessons will live on when I’m gone.