She was so good to my girl.
I remember looking at the ceiling, finding each breath difficult. I was so tired — so tired, it hurt, and breathing was too hard. Then, everything went dark. That was new.
- 9 -
The beginning of the end…
I woke up to a familiar squeeze around my arm, the sound of beeping machines, and sterile smelling sheets. I was in the hospital. Everything was a blur. I vaguely remembered a pinch in my chest and opening my eyes to see Liam running with me in his arms before he climbed into the back of an ambulance. I’d question if that last part really happened, but I knew my husband.
I also remembered the look on his tear-stained face. A sharp stab of emotion caught in my throat as that image played back in my head. It was devastating. I didn’t remember anything else. I had no idea how long I’d been in that room, or what hospital I was in. Wherever I was, I hadn’t been here before. I didn’t recognize a thing.
To my left was a large window along with a wall full of cabinets and drawers with all of the typical medical contraptions protruding from the wall at my head — every hospital room had them, but I’d never seen any of those things used. Maybe that was a good thing. To my right, there was a floor-to-ceiling glass wall with a sliding door. It was dimly lit in my room, but I could see clearly beyond the glass wall.
A waiting room full of O’Reillys sat right outside. In true family fashion, the men were pacing aimlessly, stopping to look at their watches with every lap they made, while the women were seated together on the couches, comforting one another. They were worried. About me. That was pretty simple to conclude since I was in here while they were all out there. I wished I’d known what had happened — what I’d done to worry them.
I could see the dark night sky as I gazed past the foot of my bed. How long had I been in here? It hadn’t been dark at dinner.
Liam came into view, Dr. Mendoza at his side. My poor disheveled husband looked so distraught, and it was because of me. The guilt made me feel ill. They didn’t come in my room, so they must not have known I was awake. They also didn’t know my door was partly open and I could hear every word they said.
“It metastasized,” Dr. Mendoza said, “and spread rapidly this time, despite our aggressive efforts. The scar tissue left from radiation is causing inflammation, allowing the cancer to spread quicker. The stronger the treatment, the sicker she gets, and the faster this spreads. She’s too weak to fight it like last time.”
“Okay. So, we switch her treatment to something else. Something less aggressive, something that doesn’t make her as sick and weak, right?”
“Unfortunately, there isn’t anything like that, Liam.”
“What about those trials I read about for cases like this? I emailed them to you…” Liam was desperate, and it crushed me. “Maybe we…”
Dr. Mendoza put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “I’m recommending we stop all treatment.”
“Wait. Why? Maybe that hippy shit, cannabis or whatever…we haven’t tried all that,” Liam pled.
Dr. Mendoza shook his head.
“Then what do we do?”
Mendoza paused. “We keep her comfortable. We control her pain, and nausea and initiate hospice, my friend.”
“Hospice? That means…”
Dr. Mendoza looked down, his sigh so heavy and full of emotion, I could hear it in my room. This was difficult for him too. We were friends, like family. It was personal for him.
Liam’s voice cracked, and I felt it to my core. “How long? How long do we have her?”
“If we continue treatment, a month, maybe two because she’s stubborn.” Mendoza snorted at his comment. He knew me well. “If we stop the treatment, we may be able to slow the cancer down a bit and remove the side effects actually harming her more than the disease at this point. Then, it’s up to her. It’s about quality of life now, Liam.”
“How long, Mendoza?”
“There’s no way to know for sure. No less than the one to two months we expect should we stay the course.”
“Jesus, Rick, how long?”
“Maybe double, if we’re lucky?”
“Oh, wow.” Liam tossed his hands in the air. “So, instead of one to two months, we may get a solid two — four, if we’re lucky.”
Liam paced, his hands on his hips, taking that same glance at his watch the others had been doing. He dragged his hands over his face in defeat. I felt his pain, and it was utter torture.
He stopped in front of Dr. Mendoza again, his voice pleading. “Either way, I have to say goodbye to my wife in…days, really. I-I’m not ready for that. None of us are ready for that. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Until death do us part had like eighty years on it. Reagan…” Liam’s head dropped as he collected himself, “she’s too young. She needs to remember. How will she remember? She needs her mom! I don’t know anything about girls or how to raise one.”
“You’re raising one now. And she’s incredible,” Dr. Mendoza said gently, trying to encourage Liam in an impossible situation.
“No, I’m not.” Liam’s voice rose. He had the attention of the whole floor.
His mother and sister were comforting each other in tears. His brothers turned away to hide their emotion, unable to watch him suffer. His father dropped to the couch behind him, burying his face. These bigger-than-life, strong men who defined brave were crumbling, and I had to watch that. I had to watch my husband crumble. It was like a train wreck — you wanted to turn away and spare yourself the torturous details, but couldn’t.
“I’m not raising Reagan alone. I’m following Cassidy’s lead. She’s an amazing mother and I could never measure up to that. She’s amazing at everything. There isn’t a rule book or manual for this shit. I can’t just pick up where Cassidy leaves off. I can’t live the rest of my life without her, so excuse me, Doc, when I say I won’t accept this. There has to be…”
Liam’s voice cracked, robbing him of his words. Luke, his twin, seemingly felt his pain and came to his side, his hand on Liam’s shoulder as he just stared back. When Liam’s head dropped in his moment of emotional despair, Luke pulled him into an embrace, letting him fall apart while he held his brother. Luke wasn’t one for words, much less tears, but he didn’t have to say a thing. He was what Liam needed in that moment — to be strong and hold him up when he wanted to fall. His soul was battered, his heart crushed.
Dr. Mendoza put one hand on each brother’s shoulder and shook his head. There was nothing else he could say or do. I could see the guilt he carried, as if he’d failed his dear friends. He hadn’t. This wasn’t on him; it was on me. It was my guilt to carry as the source of everyone’s pain, and despite knowing it was out of my control, I couldn’t help but feel utterly responsible.
Colleen and Carrigan stepped away with Dr. Mendoza. Colleen pulled a notebook and pen from her purse and began to take notes as Carrigan, a medical professional herself, did the talking.
Nobody knew I was awake. They didn’t know I’d just witnessed the gritty life sentence. I was okay with that because I couldn’t face any of them at that moment. I turned my head away and stared at the city lights through the window, trying to drown out the guttural sounds of my husband’s heart breaking.
This was it. This was the end. I thought I’d dealt with the fear and anger. I thought I’d come to terms with it all — and I had. What I hadn’t considered was Liam hadn’t. Sure, I knew he struggled with it, we all did, but he really hadn’t dealt with the finality of it all. He’d admitted that in his plea.
He was right, we were supposed to do this life thing together. Finish what we started. Raise our daughter together, but I was moving on, and he was left to pick up all the pieces alone. I was leaving him — God knew I didn’t want to — but I had no choice, and that gutted me. The guilt was eating at me like a cancer of its own.
Sure, Liam would have all the help he needed, but it would never be the same. He was still going to be alone. That was the night my husband
died a little bit too. There was a piece of him that would be gone forever. An art that ceased to exist in that moment. He was already grieving — maybe not for me yet, but for everything that would never be. For a lifetime that was never promised, but thoroughly anticipated. For the family we wouldn’t finish, the goals we’d never achieve, and for the “’til death do us” part that was supposed to come eighty years later, after a lifetime of treasured days.
He was losing everything and nothing: everything he had, everything yet to come, but nothing since he hadn’t had them to begin with. Such a contradiction, but still our truth. He was losing half his life because he was losing his wife — he was losing me.
Liam’s goals, plans, and lifetime of days were being rewritten, and he didn’t hold the pen. He was at the mercy of an unfair hand life had dealt, and he hadn’t prepared for it. How could he when he’d clung to hope, joy, and life this entire time. His reality was his burden. I was responsible for all of that, and it felt like a slow, scalding knife to the heart.
He was right. What would he do with Reagan? How would he raise her alone? He was an incredible father, surrounded by a village, but it would be a lonely village because he was Liam. He had a plan. He had a picture of a life he would bury with me. He was too loyal — loyal to me — and wouldn’t concede easily because that’s who he was.
Liam needed me like I needed him. Reagan needed me. The other half to their whole. I won’t be that anymore, I can’t. Liam wouldn’t do this alone and Reagan wouldn’t grow up to be who she was meant to be without her mother. They needed me.
So, I’d just have to be there with them, through it all. I decided in that moment that I wasn’t leaving them, not completely. I’d find a way to be there for them through thick and thin, maybe not in person, but they’d know I was there with them through every moment. I’d leave a rule book. Liam wants a manual, I’d leave him one. I’d be right there with him through everything, Reagan too. Hell, the whole family.
Guilt had been my biggest downfall, and maybe this would relieve some of that, so my final days are peaceful and not riddled in dread and fear over what happens next for all of us. They didn’t have to live without me. Well, maybe in the literal sense, they would, but this was a compromise, the best of a bad situation.
I just needed time — something that wasn’t on my side. Doc was right, I was a fighter. I’d beat the odds. I’d beaten them before, and I’d beat them again…just different this time. In the end, I may not have won what I wanted, but I’d fight my damnedest until my final task was done, and it was okay to leave.
- 10 -
And then the letters…
Most of my days were spent on the rooftop. The guys had built a covered area for me so the weather didn’t hold me hostage indoors. They’d even installed heaters because I would get cold even when it was warm. I needed that space like I needed air. It felt like I was still living in my own world of butterfly and fairy gardens with my little girl.
I had stopped treatment, and oddly, I began to feel better. My energy wasn’t where I’d hoped, but each day, I felt a little stronger — not much, but enough to notice. A better way to describe it — I felt less shitty. I believed Dr. Mendoza — it was the treatment making me sicker, not the cancer. I was no fool, though. I knew the cancer was still there, in the background, slowly and silently taking me down, but at least we weren’t feeding it any longer. I felt the relief, albeit slight.
Felicity rarely left my side. She was even there when Liam was with me. Hell, they all were. It was beautiful, and it was ugly. I loved being surrounded by my loved ones, and it was good for each of them to be around each other, but I’d catch those sorrow-filled stares, and they hurt my heart to see. I used them as motivation, though, to finish my project so those tearful eyes were from warmth and joy, not sadness.
I’d enlisted Felicity’s help. Against better judgement, she took me to the craft store so I could collect the things I needed to start working on my gift for my people. I loathed the idea, but used a wheelchair and let Felicity push me around. It was the only way she’d take me — I had to promise to sit in that wretched thing. But this was important, more so than my pride.
Liam was livid when he came home to find us gone. I supposed it hadn’t been our best idea, but we were close to home, hospice had been there for the day, and I was feeling fine. He thought ordering what I needed online was a better idea, or giving him a list so he could grab all the things, but that wouldn’t have been personal, and this project was personal.
I’d picked out stationary, scrapbook crap, and even pretty little envelopes. I didn’t have a real plan, but as I saw each item, I knew it was right. I’d hoped so, anyway. I’d bought out the store and had bags full of supplies with no real vision yet. I knew it would come, though. Especially as I sat in my perfect space with a view of our gardens and the city I loved in the distance.
Despite the lack of physical exertion, I was still exhausted. As much as I wanted to get started, I knew my limit, and I respected it. Each moment was a gift, and I wasn’t about to piss off the powers that be. I had too much to do and wasn’t about to buy any trouble — not until I was done.
I laid down to nap and woke fourteen hours later to Liam laying into City. I’d apologized to both of them. It wasn’t her fault for wanting to help me, or his for loving me. I’d taken advantage of them both, but as selfish as it was, it was all for them.
I knew I had a true friend in City when she told me I had nothing to apologize for. She supported whatever I was doing, knew its value. She was the only one, really. The family thought I was journaling as a means to stay busy and cope. It was so much more. I was grateful for Felicity. She was like a sister perfectly placed in my life at the perfect time — just when I needed her.
Sure, she cared about me, but it was different than everyone else. With the best intentions, the family tended to coddle too much and hover. City didn’t. She let me be me, like a spunky sidekick ready to get in trouble again if that was what made my last days the best days.
When I was too tired to use even a glue stick or squeeze scissors, she was right there with me, doing whatever I needed, step by step. On the days where I needed a good cry, she cried with me. On the days I needed a good laugh, she helped me prank whoever was in close proximity. The days where there were no words to shed and I had only enough energy to sit up, she sat and watched movies with me.
I wasn’t going to lie and say I had a burst of energy, post treatment, but I did reclaim some of it in spurts. I saved those moments for Liam and Reagan. The occasional walk, I was up to a full city block. Or Sunday dinners at the pub where they set up a special chair with plenty of pillows and a blanket.
My life wasn’t grand, but it wasn’t awful. It was purposeful. And it all started with a letter.
It was Reagan’s fourth birthday. Perched in my favorite chair, I watched the festivities and realized it was probably the first last. I wouldn’t be here for her fifth. Who knew what I’d be here for from this point forward. Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, weddings… The list of firsts without me was long, but it was all part of the project. I’d be there for every single one of them. I had a list, and it was prioritized so the absolute most important letter I was going to leave would be here, everything else was a bonus.
That was the project. The manual. It was a how-to of sorts. It was personal. All of the milestones and precious moments they’d stop and wish I was there for were going to be a little easier. I was going to be there. They just didn’t know it yet.
My first letter was to Liam, and by far the hardest. It was the goodbye I couldn’t put into words. Who even did that before they were gone? It wasn’t something you got out of the way just in case there wasn’t time or death came in the middle of the night. It was a form of encouragement and a promise to never entirely leave them. He needed to know that. He needed to know my hopes and dreams for them. So, he’d know I was there with him as he watched our daughter grow. I’d guide him,
encourage him, but most of all, just love him with words he could read over and over again. Surely that would lessen the pain and make each first without me a little easier.
My second letter was to my sweet Ragin’ Reagan for her fifth birthday to let her know I was there. I can only imagine what that first birthday without her mama would be like. I didn’t want it to be full of sadness, but rather joy. I wanted them to find happiness in my memory, not sorrow in my absence.
This was my most important task, my duty, my purpose. The list was long. I had a lot of letters to write, tears to shed, and memories to make long before their time. This would be my greatest challenge and greatest honor.
I’d sell my soul to the devil if I had to just to get it done. These letters, and these people, were that important to me. They were my life; they always had been. They were why I was here, and they were also why I had to move on…but not until I said what I needed to each and every one of them.
I sat back and watched the festivities. I didn’t think there was a family that laughed as much as we did, or had so many quirky traditions. That was what I would pour into these letters.
I shared the extra frosting from the birthday cake with Reagan, as we always did, then we set the balloons free so they could celebrate in heaven. I have no idea why we started that tradition, but it was there, it was us, so we did it.
Now, I knew what I needed to write…
My dearest Liam,
This is the first letter I am writing, and by far the hardest. It needed to be first because it is the most important. There are so many things I want to say, but there isn’t enough time…or words. How do you summarize a lifetime in a single letter?
I need you to understand I am okay with the hand I was dealt. I don’t feel cheated or robbed of time. I don’t feel like I missed anything and certainly don’t want for anything. I’m not disappointed or angry. To feel any of those things would be a terrible discourtesy to all of that which I have had the joy to experience and live. I don’t want you to feel those things either, Liam.
Love, Cass Page 8
