“Shall we do this again sometime?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t put her off.
“I’d love to.” She smiled genuinely, and we said our good-byes, promising to fix up a day to go out on the boat or for a walk on the beach when the weather was good.
A few weeks slipped by, and I was swamped with chores at home. The builders were putting the finishing touches to the house, and I was spending all my spare time organizing the decorating, putting up shelves and pictures and installing furniture and carpets.
I spoke to Ali quite a few times on the phone in the evenings, and I enjoyed hearing about her adventures with her kids and her busy lifestyle. She had her hands full too with one thing and another, and we hadn’t got round to fixing up another date.
“I tell you what, why don’t you just pop round for a cup of tea after work one night?” I suggested. “I could show you the house, you can meet the boys and we can catch up.”
“Sounds great, thanks,” she said. “I don’t know which night is best yet, but I’ll text you.”
* * *
That was last week. I turned another page in my diary and saw the words “dining table arrives!!!” under today’s date. It was the final big piece of the puzzle to fit into the house, and I’d been looking forward to its arrival. I’d chosen a massive solid oak six-seater with matching chairs, exactly like one Kate had pointed out in a magazine.
“I want a table like that,” Kate said dreamily. “I want it to be at the heart of our home. I want us to eat together as a family as much as possible.”
I loved it when she said that. Her words tickled my heart, making it flutter with love for her. She was still my surf chick and my mini-mermaid, but she was also the fantastic mother of my children. Being a good mum and running a happy family home meant the world to Kate, and she lived by basic, old-fashioned values. She adored me too. I felt incredibly lucky to be at the center of her world, the man she wanted to sit at the head of her table.
“Would like dining room table so you can have family meals once a week at least,” Kate said quietly as she added that item to her list.
I felt so moved by her words.
“We can do that, no problem,” I told her.
It was such a simple wish, one I hoped we could fulfill together. In my mind, as Kate lay in bed, I was already shifting furniture out of the old conservatory, making way for a temporary table before we could build a proper dining area. I was trying to picture Kate breathing without her oxygen cylinder, serving up a home-cooked lasagne, telling us to tuck in and reminding the boys to use their knives and forks correctly. Of course, that never happened. Kate was never well enough to eat another square meal, let alone cook and sit around a dinner table with me, Reef and Finn.
When the new table was finally unwrapped and installed later that morning, I stared at it in what can only be described as awe. It looked absolutely stunning. Sunlight was streaming through the windows of the extension, making the oak glisten like warm sand. With the bubbling fish tank on one side and the glinting pebble granite on the other, the table could not have fit in more perfectly.
After school I cooked a spaghetti Bolognese for me and the boys, looking forward to the moment we would all sit down and eat together. Predictably, Reef and Finn were far less impressed by the table than by their secret passage, the playroom or the fish tank.
“Can’t we watch telly while we eat?” Finn whined as I set the table.
“No, Finn, we can all sit around the table together and have a chat about our day, and you can watch some TV afterward if you eat up. Now please wash your hands and sit down.”
“Not fair!” he complained, folding his arms and scowling at me in protest.
Reef dutifully washed his hands and then circled the table suspiciously, eyeing the six seats.
“Why have we got six chairs when there are only three of us?” he asked.
“Because sometimes your friends might come for tea, or we might cook Sunday dinner for Grampy, to say thank you for all the Sunday dinners he has made for us, or Nanny and Gramps might come and eat with us, or Ruth or Matt or Ben . . .” I said, serving up the food.
“Mummy would like that, Daddy,” Reef said.
“Yes, she would,” I said.
Finn had sat down with us now and had stopped being cross. “How many friends can we invite for tea?” he asked.
“Three, silly!” Reef replied, pointing at the three empty chairs.
“Three each?” Finn joked, slapping his thigh
“No,” Reef said, getting annoyed. “That makes nine! We can only have one friend each!”
I decided not to explain to the boys how very important this table was to Mummy. Actions speak louder than words sometimes, I thought, as I watched Reef and Finn suck up their spaghetti. Just being here together was more important right now than explaining how and why we were all here, sitting round this table, in memory of Kate.
The boys were being a bit silly, letting the spaghetti splash sauce around their mouths, but they knew I had my eye on them and they didn’t go too far. I didn’t want to tell them off. It was such an enormous privilege to be able to sit here and share this moment with them, and I felt so grateful to Kate, for making this happen.
There was a knock on the door as we were finishing our meal, and I was surprised to see Ali standing on the doorstep.
“Did you get my text?” she said.
“What text? No, I was cooking! Come in,” I replied.
I was really pleased to see her, and invited her to sit at the table while the boys polished off their food. They greeted her with cartoon-style smiles that looked painted on with tomato sauce, and Ali and I both laughed.
“Are you hungry? There’s plenty to go round if you’d like some,” I offered.
“No, that’s really kind, but I can’t stay long,” Ali replied, pulling out a chair. “Oh, this is comfortable—what a lovely table! A cup of tea would be great though, as long as I’m not intruding.”
I was about to tell her she certainly wasn’t intruding and to introduce her to the boys properly, but they beat me to it, in their own way.
“Are you Daddy’s friend?” Finn asked charmingly.
“Yes,” she smiled. “You must be Finn, and I’m Ali.”
“Daddy is allowed one friend for tea,” Finn added approvingly. “We have enough chairs now!”
“Just one friend?” Ali asked, giving a quizzical little frown.
“It’s like this,” Reef said patiently. “Now we have six chairs, and with me, Daddy and Finn that leaves three chairs extra. If Mummy was still here it would be four chairs taken and two left, and so Daddy couldn’t have a friend, only me and Finn could. But Mummy isn’t here now, and Mummy wanted Daddy and us to have a nice big table, and Mummy wanted Daddy to have a new friend too.”
Ali looked at me, lost for words.
“I didn’t know he knew so much, but he’s absolutely right,” I said, rolling my eyes playfully and looking out of the window and up to the sky. “Thanks, Kate,” I said out loud, adding silently in my head: “Thank you for absolutely everything.”
Epilogue
Having urged so many people to write a list, I realized I ought to write my own.
In the early days after Kate was gone I was in no rush, as I had Mum’s List, which reflected so much of my life as well as hers. Now, two years on, things have changed. When Rachel, my ghostwriter, asked me recently which holiday I planned to do next, I surprised her by saying: “Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon.”
“But it’s not on the list,” she said. “I expected you to say Switzerland, or maybe Australia.”
“It’s not on Kate’s list,” I replied. “But it’s on mine. I want to explore America, let my hair down in Vegas, go target-shooting and ride bareback through the Grand Canyon. It’s somethin
g I’ve always dreamed of doing.”
“Did Kate know about this?”
“No, it’s not something we ever discussed. I know Kate would have come with me had I asked, and she would have enjoyed herself and got interested along the way, but it wasn’t really her thing.”
“So . . . who will you go with?”
“I’ll go on my own,” I answered confidently. “I’ll enjoy the freedom, and it’ll give me time to think about the future. At the moment I feel like I’m driving round a roundabout with loads of exits, not knowing which route to take. I want to build up my business; I still have loads more to do in the house; I want the boys to become more independent but I want to hold them close; I want to keep the family happy, and I don’t want to make mistakes in my relationships. I have a lot of responsibility on my shoulders. I often wish I could ask Kate: ‘What should I do next?’ I can hear her talking to me, telling me I have to make the right decisions, but I don’t know what they are. I think it’ll do me good to get away from it all before I plan my next move.”
I had the beginnings of a list in my head at that point, which was part “to-do” for me and for the boys, and part “to-remember.” Now it was time to put it in writing, for several reasons.
Of course, there are the practicalities of making provisions for Reef and Finn, should anything happen to me. I had to make my wishes known to my loved ones, and leave instructions about the boys’ care and finances. That was the easy bit, and I will keep those details private.
My list also needed to be written because time is moving on quickly, and we have all grown, one way or another, since Kate’s death. The boys are now aged six and seven, and I can already see them developing from two small, cheeky boys into poised, articulate and entertaining little lads. I turn forty-six in March this year (2012), and I feel the passage of time very acutely. I know how unexpectedly life can be cut short, and how important it is to stay on your toes and not let opportunities slip by. I can already envisage the boys as teenagers and young men, and I want my list to reflect that.
I am so proud of Reef and Finn and I want them to know that I loved Mummy as much as she loved me, and that they are our greatest achievement.
Kate’s death has made me want to do more with my life than ever before. I am so glad we had so many amazing, action-packed years together, but I wish we’d done more still. I wish we’d gone on more holidays, seen even more of the world and had more children. I can’t live my life with Kate any longer, but I can still live my life to the full, and that’s what I intend to do, while continuing to show Reef and Finn how to do the same.
Writing Mum’s List has been a labor of love. I wrote it as a tribute to Kate and the wonderful life we shared, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed doing it, despite blubbing my way through much of it. Finishing the book has been incredibly moving, as reaching the end has drawn an emotional line under the past. To me, it symbolizes the end of my life with Kate, and the start of my new one without her.
* * *
Kate, if you’re watching over me, please look over my shoulder and read the words I’m about to write, as I know they will make you happy.
I will never forget you, Kate, and of course Mum’s List will always be with me, wherever I go and whatever I do. Thank you so much for taking the trouble to write it when you were so very ill. The boys and I miss you very much and will be forever grateful for what you did for us, always.
I am on my own now, and I am doing well. I don’t know what the future holds, but I am ready to explore with an open mind and with hope and excitement in my heart, as we always did together. Maybe I will be lucky enough to find another soul mate, and I promise I will try. When you make the most of every day, anything is possible.
Here is my list, but it is by no means complete. I will always keep adding to it, because you can never laugh too much, learn too much, care too much or love too much.
Dad’s List
Life wishes
Want Reef and Finn to live as near as possible to both sets of family and for both sets of family to be fully involved in boys’ lives
Reef and Finn to do Camp America, if possible
Both boys to be instructors in diving
Sailing and boating regularly
Want boys to go on regular family holidays. Mummy and Daddy had planned to explore so much more of the world, going back to New Zealand, Australia, Switzerland and the US and visiting Canada, Belize and Thailand
Daddy to do Las Vegas and Grand Canyon
Daddy to get fitter and thinner
Want all godparents to be involved in Reef and Finn’s lives
When boys reach twenty-one they may like to live or work abroad, and that’s OK
Dad’s memories of Mum and the things we did together
Daddy used to love kissing Mummy and always gave her big hugs
Daddy loved the way Mummy used to lift her foot off the floor when she was kissed or hugged
Mummy and Daddy met on roller skates at the Robin Cousins Sports Center
Both Mummy and Daddy loved looking at the stars in wild places, or miles from cities
Daddy and Mummy thought manners are really important
We believed in lots of cool rules to live by. These sayings will always be part of our relationship: “Live life,” “Do something every day to be proud of,” “Live on the edge or you’re a waste of space,” “Don’t go to sleep on an argument,” “Smile and say hello to people you meet,” “Don’t be reckless with people’s feelings,” “If you are romantic, do it in style”
Mummy’s first flight was with Daddy. We did lots of firsts together. Make a list of things to do and record your “firsts” for when you are older
If you are lucky enough to find a soul mate, hold them tight and work together for those special moments which life has to offer
Daddy loved Mummy’s eyes, her smile and her bum—especially in tight bleached jeans!
Daddy loved all kinds of magic and doing magic tricks, but the magic of life is the best
Daddy loved food and cooking. His favorites are strawberries, fish, prawns, shellfish, thick steaks and rum
Daddy called Mummy Kate or Katie, and Mummy always called Daddy Singe
Mummy was always helping Daddy do things, and we would often learn new things together
Try to respect nature and never be a litterbug. Mummy and Daddy would pick up litter in our favorite places
Daddy was helped to write a book about his life with Mummy. It is called Mum’s List. It has been hard to write but worth it, as Daddy’s memories of Mummy will never be forgotten, and that is very cool
Daddy is so proud that Mummy chose him to be her partner and he will always have you two boys to remind him how amazing she was
Kate at seventeen. The girl with sun in her hair.
Kate with Barnaby the teddy, just before I came on the scene.
Kate’s eighteenth birthday party—Kate in the middle, with that famous twinkle in her eye, and me standing behind her.
Gorgeous Kate, golden brown in Majorca.
The obligatory holiday shots. Here we are testing our strength in Cyprus.
Teenage sweethearts, on one of our first holidays together.
Kate got the most out of life wherever she went. Here she is in Egypt on her two hundredth dive.
Skiing in Switzerland in 1995, where I proposed to Kate.
Me in a rented Porsche in the days before kids, when I drove like a maniac.
With Kate’s mum, dad, and brother, Ben, in Switzerland, and in Turkey.
Covered in confetti, outside Clifton College Chapel, the grinning groom and blushing bride.
On our honeymoon, arriving at the famous pontoon in the Maldives for the best holiday so far.
Fighting for his life—a tiny Finn bo
rn two months premature.
A rare moment of sleep after one of Reef’s doses of radiation.
A whole lot of fun—the boys together.
The day I worried I’d never see—Finn and Reef’s first day at school together. What a morning.
Reef’s Make-A-Wish trip to Walt Disney World in Florida. So many amazing memories were made on this holiday.
Kate, halfway through her treatment, and the boys with the Tree of Life behind them. We had hoped that this would bring us good luck.
Kate’s last summer with us was full of fun. Here she is leading the boys on a pony ride in the Mendips, and with Reef on the Weston Eye.
I still have every love letter Kate wrote to me, allowing me to travel back in time to when we first met.
Our boat 4 Saints really helped lift our spirits in the months following Kate’s death.
Our first Christmas without Kate was painful beyond words. The whole family spent it in Egypt, and it felt incredible to be able to cross one of her wishes off the list.
“Celebrate birthdays big time.” Reef’s sixth birthday on board The Matthew.
Photo © Northcliffemedia
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