Sister from Another Mister

We sat in the darkness. We sat in silence. We sat side by side and watched the rain as it pelted down forming puddles on the road. We each held on tightly to the glass in our hand. Hoping the alcohol would numb the pain. We’d been friends since we were ten years old. Best friends forever. We’d laughed together, we’d cried together and we’d always stood by each other in our 17 years of friendship. But here we were. Both experiencing heartbreak and for the first time, not knowing how to make the other feel better. We each felt hopeless in not knowing what the right thing to say or do would be because deep down, we knew there was no immediate solution, if in fact there was one at all.

As I closed my eyes, I could still hear the panic in her voice when she called only a few months before. “Please come over” she cried. “He’s getting worse”. I didn’t give it a second thought. I put on my shoes, grabbed by keys and told my husband to check on our sleeping son “Nat needs me” I called as I rushed out the door.

Thankfully, it was just a short drive and I knocked twice before opening the door and walking in. I headed for the room I knew she would be in, and as suspected there she was, sitting by his side, holding his hand. I could see the fear in her face, the stress in her body. Looking at her dad took my breath away. In my eyes, he had always been bigger than life. A strong man with a big smile that always reminded me of a gentle giant. But now, he was different. Everything had changed. The cancer was winning. It was taking over and there was nothing more anyone could do. The cancer was winning a fight he had never wanted to be a part of. I lent in and kissed him lightly on the cheek “Hi Mr Thornton” I whispered “you doing ok?”

He opened his eyes slowly and smiled “hello my girl” he said softly squeezing my hand “there’s food in the kitchen, go eat”. I couldn’t help but laugh. Despite how sick he was, he was still the most gracious host.

I walked over to my bestie, wrapped by arms around her. She hugged me tighter than she ever had done before. “I’ve got you” I whispered. As her tears began to fall, so did mine. She sat back down beside her sleeping dad. Holding his hand in hers. Never wanting to leave his side.

It was only a week later and we were getting ready for his funeral. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I had a two-year old son that couldn’t sit still and was six months pregnant with my second. “Please God,” I prayed “give me the strength that I can pass on to Nat so she will be able to get through this”. This was going to be the worst and hardest thing she would ever have to do and all I wanted in that moment was to ease her sadness.

The ceremony was beautiful, but then, how could it not be when we were remembering the life of such a remarkable man. I couldn’t even fathom the thought of what it would be like the day I had to bury my own dad. My heart was aching at just the very thought of it. And yet, here she was. Standing tall and supporting her mum. Greeting all those that attended and thanking them for coming to farewell her dad. She carried herself with such grace and amazing strength. I don’t think there was ever a time that I admired or loved her more than right at that moment.

Once everyone had left and the house had returned to silence. We lay on her bed looking up at the ceiling. “It went well today didn’t it?” she whispered.

“He would have loved it” I said “there was so much food”

She laughed “There sure was. I kept imagining I could hear him saying, go eat, go eat”

“Yeah, me too” I said smiling

“He’s never going to say that again. I can’t believe I’m never going to see him again. How am I going to get through my life without him?” she cried as fresh tears flowed.

“I don’t know” “I replied taking hold of her hand “but we will get through it together”.

Now here we sat, only nine months later. Her grief had magnified and the loss of her dad was immeasurable, but she put all that aside so she could be with me, to help me through my own distress.

It was only a few days earlier when I called her late at night. “Is everything ok” was the first thing she asked. I couldn’t speak. As tears rolled down my face, I couldn’t force the words out of my mouth. “Tell me, what’s wrong. Are you ok? Are the boys ok? You’re scaring me.”

I took a deep breath and managed to say “he’s left me. He’s left us. He came home late again. He said he couldn’t do this anymore. He packed a bag. He’s gone. He just walked out” I cried.

“I’m coming over”

‘No, don’t. I’m going to my mum’s. I have to wake my sleeping babies and put them in the car. I just don’t get it. I don’t understand.”

“I’ll meet you at your mum’s”

“No, really it’s ok. It’s late and it’s raining outside. I just want to go home. I’ll call you in the morning”.

That had been four weeks ago. Now the truth had come out, as it always does. Because no matter how good someone may think they are at playing games or lying, the truth always finds its way.

“He packed the rest of his things today. Backed his van up the driveway. He’d even bought boxes. Packed all his things, put them in the back of the van and drove away. He didn’t even look back. You know what the worst part was?”

“What?”

“Josh sat right here on this step the whole time just watching him. Watching as his dad packed up his van with all his things and drove away”.

“He’s such a dick”.

“Part of me doesn’t even care. We’re better of without him. She can have his sorry ass”.

We sat silently, both lost in our own thoughts, just watching the rain fall.

“Do you know what I really want to do” I asked putting my glass down.

“Do it” she laughed “I fricken dare you”

I got up out of my chair and walked down the stairs of the porch. I ran down the driveway into the street and jumped in the puddles on the road. I spread my arms out wide and lifted my face up towards the dark skies and let the rain wash over me.

I could hear her laughing in the distance behind me. I danced in the rain until I was soaked through and chilled to my bones. Then I headed my way back up to the house. As I took my final step up to the porch, she handed me the towel she had obviously gone inside to get.

I wrapped the towel around me and sat back down. I noticed she had also refilled my glass. I picked it up and felt the alcohol slide down my throat doing it’s best to warm me up.

“Isn’t there a song that says something about, wash that man right outta your hair? I’m sure we learnt it in school”.

I started to laugh. And then, I found myself crying. I put my face in my hands and I sobbed and sobbed. I cried until all the water that had just gone into my body from the rain, now escaped through my tears.

When at last the tears stopped, she reached out her hand. I took it in mine and we sat once again in silence “He isn’t worth it you know. He never did deserve you and those beautiful boys”.

“Honestly, it’s not about him”. I answered sadly “I gave him everything I could. Everything I am. For ten years, I lost myself in making sure that he had everything he needed to be happy. And... it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. But honestly, whatever. I couldn’t do more than I did. But what happens now? I have a two-year-old and a 4-month-old and I never ever imagined I would end up being a single mum. I never factored in that I would have to do this, all of this, by myself”.

I picked up my drink, realised it was empty and looked at her.

“What if I can’t do this.?” I cried “What if it’s too much? What if I’m not a good mum? How am I going to pay for this house? How am I going to support them? God, how am I going to support myself? What am I supposed to say when they start asking me where he’s gone? Why he isn’t coming home? How do I protect them from this? I honestly don’t care about him. Or her for that matter. But I do care about my babies. They’re all I care about.”

I took a deep breath and wiped the tears from my face “I’m so scared. What if I can’t do this on my own?”

She looked me in the eyes, squeezed my hand tightly and said “I’ve got you and we’ll get through this... together”.

My two babies now have a younger brother. My three sons are 19, 21 and 23 years old. My son has a son of his own and he calls me “Ninny”. I have never heard something that warms my heart more. My husband of almost 15 years is the most amazing, supportive man that I am thankful every day that I get to grow old with. We raised three of the most gentle, kind-hearted and remarkable boys that have grown into incredible young men.  

Nat got married the same year I did and lives a very hectic life with two young boys. We don’t see each other as often as we once did as life has a way of getting in the way. We still message each other often with random conversations that always make me laugh. We’ve been best friends for 37 years and when we do find the time to catch up it’s like it’s always been. Just her and me sitting together chatting like two old biddies. We share a bond that no one or nothing can break and we can still sense when the other needs us. I can’t imagine my life without her in it, no matter what that looks like. Just knowing that she is always there for me brings me comfort and keeps me grounded. She’s still the first person I tell when something big, or small happens in my life. She’s still that one special friend that never judges me or the choices I make. She has always and will always be my sister from another mister.