Five Thankyou's

Trigger warning: Terminal illness, grief and suicidal thoughts.

Martin stared at the crumpled and untidy shoe box resting on the coffee table. Organisation was never one of Ellie’s strong suits; the fact she had managed to pull this together was a small miracle. Each of the five envelopes, peeking at different angles from the lidless cardboard container were a threat to Martin’s composure. They looked like white teeth, waiting for his hand so that they could bite down and drag him back into despair. He knew he couldn’t stare at them forever, he’d made a promise to read them. So he held his breath and quickly snatched the card scrawled with a number one, for fear even a touch would harm him.

*****

Dear Marty,

Hi. Hello. This is stupid.

My therapist advised I should write these, you know, just in case things don’t go our way. I think it’s kind of a waste of time but…whatever. You keep telling me that they know best and I don’t have a masters in psychology, so I should probably just try, blah blah blah. You win, here I am, writing thank you cards from beyond the grave like some kind of preemptive ghost.

The doctors had positive things to say in my last appointment, they think my new, whole food only, organic diet should help. They said to avoid too much iron though, that can feed the cancer apparently, even more than the processed foods that I know caused it. You were there, holding my hand, so you likely remember. You’ve been there at every appointment actually, acting as my rock when I can’t bear to listen to their noncommittal half-speak anymore. Thank you, for that.

I threw out all the polyester clothing today. I flushed all the chemical cleaners and I ordered the water filters. All this poison in our home, no wonder I got sick! I think you only have one full outfit and perhaps a few t-shirts left. We will need to go shopping. You watched me through it all, bin bag open between your hands, just smiling. You didn’t even protest when your old, favourite band touring shirts went out. Thank you…for that too.

I’m feeling positive, we are doing all we can. In fact when we read this in a few years time and I am cancer free, I bet we will have the biggest laugh at my expense. You’ll be right to poke fun at me for all the sappy things I’ll have written and all the crazy thing’s I’ll have made us do in the name of health…I can’t wait!

*****

A short smile graced Martin’s lips as he read. His wife was so animated in her writing, almost as full of life as she had been in person. He remembered those first weeks. The hope. The relative happiness in the face of it all. The denial. He reached for the second envelope, hesitated, then tore it open.

*****

Dear Marty,

I wish you’d never made me do the chemo. It feels like you forced me into it. I wanted to go the natural route but you and the doctors, you just kept on and on until I relented. Now I spend half my time holding back my wig while I puke into the toilet. If these really are my last days, what made you think that this was how I wanted to spend them! I look at you sometimes and blame you for all the pain and the hardship I am going through. I resent you for making me submit to a treatment that they say won’t even work. Why? Just so you can feel like you are helping? So you can feel like we are doing something. Well thank you SO much for your selfish love and conditional support.

I hate writing these damn cards. Another waste of the little time I have left.

*****

A single wet circle soaked into the thin card in Martins hand. Silent tears, slowly seeping from his eyes accompanied the memory of those days. Her visceral anger, resentment and contempt encompassed everything and everyone. He had known she was lashing out at the unfairness of it all and was justified to do so, he had punched his own share of walls. It had been tough to see her that way anyway. He took the third card more readily, eager to leave behind her venomous words, hoping for something sweeter.

*****

Martin,

Promise me something? Promise me that you won’t find someone else? I know that we are still fairly young and we don’t even have any children…but I can’t stand the thought of waiting for you on the other side, only to have you arrive with someone else or another family. If heaven is real, then I’ll be there, your true love. Don’t forsake me for another, leaving me all alone? Please?

In fact I’ll make you a deal. You can be physical with whoever you want (I’m not a monster, you’ll have needs!). You just can’t love them. Don’t commit anything to them. Save that for me okay?

You’ve always been so loyal, so faithful and so loving. I’ve always been able to trust you completely and I am so thankful to you for that. How many women can say that about their men huh? I’m not just talking about cheating either. I mean I can trust you with my secrets, my feelings and I know that you’ll be there for me when I need you. I can trust you to get the car fixed when you say you will, I can trust you to pay the bills on time and I can certainly trust you to keep your job…sometimes I think that place is your actual true love! 

So I know…that if you promise me this, if you agree to this deal. That you will keep it. So come on, say it with me now, I’ll hear you.

“I promise never to truly love anyone but Ellie Stevens.”

Thank you Marty. I know you did it.

*****

Shaking his head and smiling, Martin looked out the lounge window to the plain blue sky between breaks of fluffy, white clouds and whispered, barely audible even to himself,

“I promise never to truly love anyone but Ellie Stevens. I’ll see you soon sweetheart.”

He calmly took the next card, his fear of them ebbing as he progressed.

*****

Hey,

I guess that’s it then. None of it worked. It was all for nothing. I’m going to…die. The doctors say I have a few months, but who really knows, they have proven pretty useless so far.

I’m sorry. I should have taken better care of myself. All that alcohol. All that junk food. All that irresponsible living. What was I thinking. I’ve let you down. It’s all my fault.

I’ve been having thoughts recently of…speeding up the process. Living like this, with a ticking time bomb over our heads, it’s torture. The dread is suffocating. If I had the courage, perhaps just getting it over with would be, I don’t know, better?

None of this has been easy on you. Let’s be honest its destroying you just as much as it is me. I don’t know why you’ve stuck around through it. You shouldn’t have, but I’m glad you did. You are the reason I’m still here. 

Thank you.

*****

That pit in his stomach formed again. One he had thought gone forever until it reformed like a black hole, consuming any semblance of joy he had recovered before reading her words. He took in a deep breath and released a heavy sigh. The sadness was the worst of it all, her absolute submission to the disease and the guilt she carried on her shoulders. It had never been her fault. Try as he might he could never get her to believe it. Martin scooped up the final envelope, now flat in the bottom of the scrappy old box, ready for this ordeal to end.

*****

My Marty,

How strong you have been. What a man you are, for seeing this through with me. I don’t know if I could have done the same…it must have been hell for you. We are almost there now, I can feel it, deep down. There’s not long left.

I feel calm and I have made my peace. All of our long talks, our endless meandering through what it all means helped me so much and I love you for it. I was able to work through all the phases of an expected death in safety, thanks to you acting as my protector. You know, most people are so worried about getting hit by a bus or falling off a cliff, that they don’t realise how preferable that would be over this! I guess in the end we all live and we all have to die, this is simply my time and I have lived the best life I knew how. That’s all anyone can hope for. Have I said thank you again in the past five minutes? You have been more than my rock, you have been my anvil, my iron deposit, my planetary core! I am so in awe of your strength and so grateful for your love.

I suppose you might be wondering now why I made you read all these thank you cards. The results of my tedious, terminal therapy sessions. Well I still reject that they are anything but a pointless exercise in box ticking, but what they do give you, is a little snapshot of me in all my forms.

I really hate it when someone dies and they get immortalised in everyone’s memory as a saint who never did any wrong. They are put on a pedestal as the imagined, perfect version of themselves. It’s all nonsense. Everyone, including me, is a mess of delusion, fury, industrialism, misery and tranquility. 

I want you to remember all those times I sent you hunting through the supermarket for a product that they didn’t even sell or the moments when I was hysterically frustrated over something as minor as dropping my toast. Recall the heated discussions we had over how to decorate that house and how I always convinced you in the end. I want you to hold on to the days I was uncontrollably upset with you, despite being completely in the wrong and never let go of the times I was so overwhelmed with love for you that I pounced on you out of nowhere.

Remember me as I am. Imperfect and real.

I love you absolutely and I will be waiting for you.

(I haven’t forgotten our deal. Don’t think I will!)

*****

Martin held all five cards to his chest and sobbed with love for his departed wife, until he felt able to release them. He stood, walked to the raging log burner in the corner of the room and tossed them all in, shoe box included. The paper curled and evaporated releasing an inky stench into the room. Hearing her voice in his mind complain about the toxic fumes, he turned once again to the window and addressed the sky,

“I hear you Ellie, but a handful of thank you cards could never be enough to describe all that you were. Instead, I carry every memory of our time together within me and so you live on, imperfect and just as you were, in my heart. I’ll never let go of them, I’ll keep them safe, until I'm with you again and we can create some more.”