COLOURS

White – everything is white.

The white quietness inside the hospital is even more pronounced outside its walls. A white, desolate, godforsaken place as the snowy blizzard continues to cover everything in its path. The thick white blanket hangs over everything. Trees stand motionless, their boughs drooping with the light fluffy flakes clinging together for strength in their vast numbers. The lit street lamps try to show the way through the ever-moving icy net curtain that envelopes them. Long sparkling icicles hang from gutters, pipes and lamp posts. Their iciness hard and pointed. Sound is deadened as cars gently crunch on the frosty snow. Walkers manage to breathe icy vapour from beneath their face masks, whilst their footprints show the extent to which they are avoiding each other in passing.

Inside the white continues on walls, ceilings, floors, curtains. No colour anywhere. Pools of white light from small lamps above the lines of white beds. People dressed completely in white - doctors and nurses who also wear white masks and visors that completely obliterate their white faces. White faces, drained of energy, etched with tiredness as they struggle through the endless hours treating the sick and dying. Clinical, emotionless, subdued, detached, overwhelmed. Quiet white soft shoes carrying silent people hurrying about their daily tasks caring for the doomed. The gentle hum of ventilators. The orchestral sounds of musical beeps coming from machines bowing to their various needs.

I have been here for several days and know it’s the beginning of the end for me. The virus has laid claim to me as it has thousands of other blighted souls. I am in an isolation ward along with fifty others. A special hospital built in record time to accommodate the hundreds of people caught up in this dreadful catastrophe. We are all in various stages of the illness that is claiming us one by one.

Quiet voices surround me. My nearest and dearest are still allowed to be with me although they are unrecognisable with all the white personal protective equipment they are wearing. They will not be allowed to leave until I’m dead and will then have to live in isolation for a month after I’ve gone. Such a small price they feel, to pay to be with me in my final hours. I wish I could tell them how much I appreciate their love and devotion.  

“I’m here, my love,” I hear my wife whisper to me. I can’t answer her. Although I long to. My children are here telling me how wonderful I am and how I must hang on to life no matter how hard it is. I want to, oh God how I want to. But I can feel the virus draining the life out of me and I am beginning to lose the fight. Gradually the voices fade, the whiteness turns grey…….. then, eventually, comes blackness.

Black – everything is black.

The blackness continues. There is nothing. Every sound is muffled, no light shows anywhere. After some time there is movement. Subdued voices, and quiet music. The music brings back memories, lovely memories. The original singing comes from speakers as there can be no one present at my funeral. I hear the music chosen and know my family is sending me love with every tune. The music dies, one more droning voice and then rumbling followed by quiet, eerie quiet. Suddenly gas is igniting, followed by the sound of flames jumping. I feel nothing, but I see red and orange flames interspersed with blue – so pretty. Eventually the flames die and burn themselves out and the colour is grey.

Grey – everything is grey.

Grey is so nondescript. It’s just a nothingness which is exactly the state I’m in. I’m nothing and nowhere. Waiting but not sure for what. Surely this can’t be it? I am in such a small confined space but feel no discomfort – and I don’t know why I should even be wondering why. After all I’m dead! I can’t believe that this is it for evermore. So I wait until once again I feel movement.

 This time it goes on for a long time. My grey world eventually slows down and I’m plonked unceremoniously on something solid – well the casket containing me is! I hear a family going about their everyday life. I realise I’m in the sitting room as I hear many stilted conversations between different people. I often hear my dear wife sobbing when she’s alone and wish with all my heart I could comfort her. But then – if I could – she wouldn’t be sobbing. After all it’s me she’s missing.

One day the mood in the room sounds brighter. I realise the whole family is there and that, once again, I’m the subject of the conversation.

“Now that the restrictions have slackened a bit and the weather is much nicer, I really think we ought to decide where to take Dad’s ashes,” says my wife.

“Well there are lots of places to choose from that he really loved,” answers my eldest daughter, Jo, with a smile I can hear in her voice.”

I’m just thinking, freedom at last!

“Ok where do you suggest?” asks my youngest daughter, Meg.

“Well, we have the Lake District, Scotland, The New Forest or our lovely Norfolk beaches,” interjects my son, Dan. “Anyone have a favourite?”

“I think we ought to think about travel,” says my ever-sensible wife. “Your dad really loved all those places equally but for different reasons – just like he loved you kids,” she smiled.

Yes she’s right there, I do love all of them equally and I really wish I could tell them. Still I can’t so get over it, I tell myself.

Rainbow – everything’s a rainbow.

So the day is here at last. They’re going to lay my ashes to rest and give me the freedom I’ve been longing for. They’ve decided to go to the lovely wide-open Norfolk beach. Wonderful.

More movement, being held close to my wife’s breast for one last time. We are stopping. What a beautiful spring day it is. The sun is shining in a bright blue sky with fluffy white clouds dancing here and there overhead. The blustery breeze is whipping white foam on the turbulent waves. The sea sparkles and the pale-yellow golden sand glints in the sunlight. I know they are enjoying tramping through the sand with their bare feet. I hear their laughter as happy family memories, that all included me, are brought back to them. Oh how I wish I could join in that laughter.

The jar is opened letting in the bright sunshine and a rainbow of colours. So much colour after so much gloominess.  I just hope they remember which way the wind is blowing when they scatter me to the waves!

And it’s all over – they’re saying their last words of love and holding hands as they gently place me on the water. Blue sparkling water with rainbows shining through the spray – beautiful colours all around me.  I’m free.