Goodbye Mam

This post has been written for Josie@Sleep is the Weak's writing workshop #20. I have chosen to write a post inspired by number 5 - Recount the story of a parting. This is a blog post which I have started so many times, and never managed to finish it so here goes....

You lay there indignant that you weren't going for further treatment.
"They won't send me you know - they say I'm not well".
I asked you how you were (the answer I knew so well - you had days to live, you weren't going for the treatment as there was no point- it had spread into every organ)
"What do you think" was the answer you sharply snapped back at me -I wondered if you knew, if you'd picked up some hint from the doctors who had told us!
I sat down quietly next to you and apologised. My brother came in - we sat in silent together until your breathing got worse and they had to put an oxygen mask over your head and up the morphine.
You kept on asking "Where's T (my dad)" and the answer I gave time and time again that evening was "He's on the train -he'll be back now". He hadn't wanted to go on his conference but you on one of the stubborn streaks (that I have inherited) had told him he had to because there was nothing wrong with you and you were going to the other hospital for treatment.
As you got worse, my brother hung on - where's dad, where is he - will he make it? I stayed strong for him and you then - letting you both know that he was on is way. (He was stuck due to a train problem and was slowly on his way back).
Tears were running down my face, as I held on to you and to my brother. You were fading away in front of us - the strong lady that I looked up to. You held on for what seemed like an eternity and then dad rushed in.
He came up to you - put his arms around you and held you. I can't remember if you whispered his name - (many moments of that day are blacked out in my mind)but you waited until he was in that room before you passed on.

We held my dad as you left us, departed the life that had been so good and yet health wise so bad for you.

The arthritis which never beat you, it made you waddle and you always joked that if we shook you you'd rattle! And then the breast cancer which you fought so hard the first time and after a masectomy we thought you'd won - the all clear had been given. But then it came back with a vengeance and you said you had no power to fight it anymore, but you did until it spread into every organ.

You never saw me or my brother marry, never met your two gorgeous granddaughters (or the third grandchild that is due to my brother soon!). The hurt of your parting is as strong now as it always has been. I wish that your body had fought harder but as you used to say "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride".