She inhaled deeply, drinking in the intoxicating scent of lilac. She always said she would get married in spring, just so she could have lilacs in her bouquet. The florist was beckoning her over to the other side of the store, so she put her purse and bags down on the counter and motioned to her sister, Kirsten, to keep an eye on them. All of the floral arrangements were ready, and she wanted to make sure that everything was absolutely perfect. She had asked Liam to come with her today so he could see the final results, but he wasn't too keen on hanging around in a flower shop. He commented that he would see them soon enough anyway.
After three years together and months of planning, it seemed almost surreal that this wedding was actually going to happen. She sometimes wondered what it would feel like afterward. After a lifetime of looking forward to her wedding day, the event would all of a sudden be a thing of the past. But her life with Liam would stretch out in front of her forever. Every time she thought about the wedding, she felt that all too familiar fluttering of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Liam was the best thing that ever happened to her - as trite as that sounded - and she couldn't wait to be his bride. This would probably be the most terrifying and exhilarating moment she would ever face. Sometimes she had to force herself to stop thinking about marrying Liam, because she felt as though her heart might actually burst. She snapped out of her reverie when she heard her cell phone ringing inside her purse. She dashed over to the counter and tried to dig out the phone before the call would be sent to voicemail. She fumbled with it for a moment before finally pressing the send button and answering the call.
"Hello," she said, out of breath.
There was a moment of silence, and then finally the caller spoke.
"Jillian, how are you?" came the deep, almost thunderous voice of Liam's uncle, Dr. Gregory Brock.
"You tell me, Uncle Gregory," laughed Jillian, nervously.
They had both gone to Dr. Brock to have blood tests taken for their marriage license, as well as to get the shots they required before they could leave for their honeymoon to the Dominican Republic. They had both decided to undergo routine physicals as well, just to get everything over with at once.
"Is Liam with you?" he asked in a strained voice. Oh dear God, it's back. Her palms were suddenly so sweaty that the phone was slipping out of her hand. Her heart was pounding in her ears somehow, and she had to fight for words.
"Uh, no he's not. I'm meeting him in about half an hour. Is something wrong?" she asked, trying to sound calm.
"I already left a message on Liam's machine, but you'll probably see him before he gets it. Maybe the two of you could stop by my office this afternoon," he responded, painfully avoiding her question.
If it hadn't been for Dr. Brock, Jillian and Liam would have likely never met. She had been sitting in the waiting room one day when Liam had casually strolled in and chatted with the receptionist for a few minutes before asking to see his uncle. Jillian had been immediately aware of his adorable toothy grin that seemed to light up the room. Combined with his thick, wavy brown hair and his incredible powder blue eyes, he seemed to be the perfect package. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he had turned around for a moment to look around the room, and his gaze had rested on her for a few glorious moments. Just then, Dr. Brock strode out of his office and bellowed, "Liam, there you are! Thanks for coming so quickly. I need you to give this envelope to your father."
"You asked me to come all the way over here to deliver an envelope? Why didn't you just ask Dad to come by? He's only a couple of blocks away," Liam had asked quizzically.
"He wasn't at home when I called, and I haven't had a chance to see you in awhile, so I thought this would be a good opportunity," he had responded.
Jillian was becoming a little bit impatient. She had been waiting almost half an hour for her appointment, and she was very anxious to get her test results. Her final chemotherapy treatment had succeeded in putting her in remission, and she had wanted to make sure that nothing had changed.
"Jillian!" Dr. Brock exclaimed, "I want you to meet my nephew, Liam Brock. Liam, this is a very special patient of mine, Jillian Kramer."
She had immediately realized why she had to wait so long for her appointment - she was being set up. But wait, by her doctor? No, she had to be mistaken. She had looked up to see Dr. Brock exchanging a wink with his receptionist, and Liam's face turning a deep shade of crimson. She'd tried to suppress the laugh that had been creeping up into her throat.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Liam," she had said, her voice faltering a bit.
"Oh, believe me, the pleasure's all mine," he had responded, failing miserably at his attempt to keep a straight face. They had instantly burst out laughing at the absurdity of the moment.
So, as awkwardly as Dr. Brock had brought them together, Jillian feared his news would now tear them apart. She had been in remission when she met Liam, so he never had to deal with her illness. She shuddered at the thought of what this ordeal would put him through. If her suspicions were confirmed - that she was out of remission - then, Jillian decided, she couldn't marry Liam. It just wouldn't be fair to him.
As she dropped the phone back into her purse, she realized that she had hung up on Dr. Brock. She stood silently for a few moments, unsure of what to do next. She noticed Kirsten was busy chatting with the florist and hadn't noticed the phone call. She was relieved; there was no point in alarming anyone until she knew for sure. The problem was, she did know. She felt it in her gut. Her life would never be the same again.
She told Kirsten that she needed to get some air, and that she'd be right back. She opened the door, and felt a gush of unseasonably warm air as she walked outside onto the busy street corner. She stood there, motionless, for quite some time. The loud street sounds of cars honking and people calling out to one another all faded into the background. She was numb, except for a prickly feeling on the back of her neck. She wanted to cry, but she didn't dare. Once the floodgates were open, she knew there would be no end to the tears. She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself.
"I can do this," she murmured as she steeled herself so she could go back inside to try and act somewhat normal. If she didn't succeed, well, they would just assume she was having some wedding jitters.
Before she had a chance to go inside, Liam's car pulled up to the curb. She stared at him as he slowly turned off the ignition. He turned his head and glanced at her for a moment, and they shared a knowing look. He opened the door, got out and stood beside the car. He looked worried, and she could tell he was trying hard to hide that. She took a couple steps and stood by the passenger door. There were no words. He walked around the car and reached out for her hand, and she gave it to him.
"You got Uncle Gregory's message," she stated, matter-of-factly. "He said we should go to his office."
Liam nodded, unable to speak for a moment.
"Liam…" she whispered.
"We don't know for sure, Jilly," he interjected hoarsely. "Don't assume anything yet, okay?"
She searched his eyes for…what? Hope, maybe? She found pain. Her decision not to marry Liam if the cancer was back was reinforced. She never again wanted to see such pain in those beautiful eyes. He gripped her hand tightly and told her, "We better go."
He opened her door and gently helped her into the car, as though she were a fragile porcelain doll that could break at any given moment. She closed her eyes tightly and said a silent prayer. Please don't do this to us now.Not now. She waited for Liam to get in the car, but he wasn't coming. She realized that she had forgotten all about Kirsten and the flowers. Liam had gone inside to tell them she was leaving. He didn't come back empty-handed. As he slid into his seat, he handed her a lilac.
"I told them you weren't feeling well," he said. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to say anything yet."
She shook her head, unable to answer him. The ten-minute drive seemed excruciatingly long, although a part of her didn't want to ever get there. They walked, hand in hand, into the empty, sterile waiting room. The receptionist looked up at them and smiled, "Dr. Brock is waiting for you in his office. You can go right in."
She grabbed the doorknob, but she didn't have the strength to open it. Liam's hand extended over hers, and they opened the door together. Dr. Brock looked up from his desk and attempted to smile. His face looked rather haggard and pale. They sat down in the two chairs that were set out in front of the desk. Liam was grasping her hand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. His eyes never wavered from hers, even as Dr. Brock began to speak.
"Well, uh, I guess you're both wondering why I wanted you to come by," he said before clearing his throat. "There was an abnormality in your blood test. Ah…it seems that…I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but it's leukemia," he said, obviously fighting back tears. Leukemia. She shook her head in disbelief. She wasn't exactly expecting this. She had fought and won her battle with cancer, and now it had come back in a whole new form. Was this some sort of cruel joke? She shifted her eyes from Liam to Dr. Brock. That was when her stomach leaped into her throat, and the bottom fell out of everything. He had been talking to Liam. She couldn't breathe. A low moan escaped from her lips, despite her most valiant efforts to hold it in. She finally got the courage to face Liam again, and when her eyes met his, Jillian knew that he was still under the impression that it was she who had been diagnosed. She tried to swallow the enormous lump that had formed in her throat. She couldn't speak. She tried, but her voice failed her. She tightened her grip on his hands, and turned back to Dr. Brock, motioning him to do the same. She reached up, instinctively, and stroked his hair with the tips of her fingers. She was not prepared for this. He was not prepared for this. The realization hit him hard. His eyes widened; his mouth opened, but nothing came out. He began to tremble, and he turned to her again. She wanted to be strong for him. She wanted to make him feel like it was all going to be alright. She knew that was what he needed. She remembered.
"So what's the first step. Chemotherapy?" she was able to spit out.
The horrible, pinched look on Dr. Brock's face was one she would remember for a lifetime. He shook his head. With a trembling voice, he replied, "It's an advanced stage of acute leukemia…" he paused for what seemed like an eternity. "It is untreatable at this point." Untreatable. No, I must not be hearing this right. Then the buzzing in her ears began. It was as if her body knew she could not bear to hear more. She turned to find Liam staring at her. His eyes were pleading with her to do something, to fix it, to make it all go away. She knew that there was one more question left to ask, and she did not have the courage to say the words out loud. How long? Not long enough.
They were married the next Saturday in a beautiful ceremony. No one knew about the black cloud that was hanging over them - it was a secret between the three of them. They both cried when they said the vows they had written for each other. They never left each other's side for even a moment. They danced all night long. The following week was spent mostly in bed. They couldn't get enough of each other. Their lovemaking was urgent and frenzied, as though they felt each time might be the last. They ventured onto the beach for about an hour each day, and then they were back in bed again, tangled up in each other's arms.
About two weeks after they had come back home, Jillian stumbled upon her wedding bouquet. She had hung it upside down in the back of her closet so she could dry the flowers and preserve the bouquet. When she found it, she had been searching the closet for Liam's favorite dress - the black one. She gently took down the bouquet, and she sank down on the edge of the bed. The flowers had been perfectly preserved. The bouquet would probably last for years. Melanie MacDonald
Swan Song
She stands shivering at the bus stop, tears frozen on her cheeks. It is a busy street corner, and none of the passers-by seem to notice her. Not far away, a man is playing a haunting melody on his guitar. She empties her pockets and gives him all the cash she has. She doesn't need it anymore. She stands transfixed, lost in the music. My swan song, she thinks silently, smiling through her tears.
The florist across the street comes outside to chat with the baker, who is having his afternoon smoke. It is a daily ritual for them. Will they notice her absence tomorrow? She watches as everyone continues to go about their business as if it is just another ordinary day. Every ordinary day for us is anything but for somebody else. As you are grabbing your morning coffee, somebody's world is shattering into a million tiny pieces, like a huge jigsaw puzzle that has fallen to the floor. That person will try to put everything back together, but many of the most essential pieces are missing. Some of the other pieces just don't fit where they're supposed to anymore. No matter how hard they try, it will never be the same again.
She has lost that piece of the puzzle that holds her hope and joy, her soul - the very core of her being. That piece was the only thing holding her together. If only she could somehow pull that missing piece out of the wreckage that is her life. If only she could see his smiling eyes once more. She needs to be with him. She has heard that you can't go to heaven if you leave this world before you are supposed to. That is a risk she is willing to take. She needs to be with him.
She closes her eyes and sways to the music. She lets the music carry her, and she begins to dance. She is oblivious to the snickers and stares of those around her. She feels an incredible peace within herself. She has never felt so free. She hears a scream, and someone lays on the horn. She dances on. She is dancing with him. Author wishes to remain anonymous.
Her Legacy
"Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Cry, and you cry alone."
She had dozens of little sayings and quotes stuffed up her sleeve (along with her seemingly endless supply of Kleenex). The legacy she left behind would be impossible for any other human being to live up to. She was the most loving, kind, comforting, patient and honest person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She was dishonest about one thing only - her own pain and discomfort. To hear my grandmother complain could be likened to seeing a pig flying – you didn’t. She always had plenty of smiles, hugs and prayers ready in reserve for whenever they were needed. She maintained a special and individual relationship with each and every member of her family. She always knew how to make you laugh, no matter how down and out you were feeling, and the twinkle in her eyes was always more noticeable when she was being mischievous.
Her reverence to God could only be described as amazing. She instilled a great respect of the Catholic faith in all of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Even in her last years, she said the Rosary constantly. There were many days when she could not remember names, but she never forgot her prayers. She was admired, respected and adored by so many people, and she touched the lives of all those who came in contact with her.
Many of her traditions will be passed down through generations because those of us left behind need to find a way to remember and celebrate her spirit. Her ability to come up with a rhyme or quote for any occasion was remarkable, and I think many of us will try to keep that tradition alive. We will cherish our families and loved ones. We will continue to appreciate our faith, and we will keep her love of prayer alive. We will not turn our backs on those in need. We will laugh.
"You are in my thoughts often but in my heart always."
Melanie MacDonald
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