by Wade, Calvin
“Thanks Donna! I intend to. Are you still looking after my big sister?”
“We look after each other, Richie. We still fight like a pair of boxers at a weigh in, but we’re old enough now to know it’s all in the name of love.”
I took hold of Richie’s hand. It felt cold. As kids, he always had warm hands, that was one of the many things I remember about him. Warm hands.
“You never bloody told me about Kelly being up the duff! I hope that wasn’t the last act of a knackered testicle?”
Richie laughed. It was a strange laugh. His shoulders moved up and down but no sound came out, like his body was too tired for that now.
“Don’t even go there, Cal! I can assure you it wasn’t mine, I didn’t even know anything about it until Jemma whispered something to me as I came in.”
“The first time or the second?” Donna asked.
“The second.”
“Damn! It would have explained everything if it had been the first. Jemma whispering, ‘Kellys pregnant!’ and you legging it. Sherlock Holmes would not have taken long to figure that one out!”
Richie smiled shyly.
“I hate to disappoint you ladies, but the baby belongs to the gentleman sat with Kelly. His name’s Roddy. I spoke to the pair of them for a few minutes before, he seems a good lad, the type I’d go for a pint with, back in the days I was well enough to go for a pint.”
“We’ll go over and interrogate him later, Donna, won’t we?” I said, “Check him out for ourselves, we won’t take your word for your innocence!”
“We’ve got test tubes,” Donna added with comedy timing, “we’ll take a sperm sample!”
“You two wouldn’t even know what sperm looked like!” Richie countered.
“A DNA test then!” Donna laughed, “we’ll pull his hair out!”
“I should have kept you some of mine!” Richie said.
It was all silly banter. Richie went on to say he had requested Nirvana’s “Heart Shaped Box” for me and I said I had requested Chumbawamba’s “TubThumping” for him, a jokey reference to his childhood bedwetting. Richie soon moved on to speak to others, giving Donna and I each a clasped hand shake before he went on his way. Later in the evening, Richie took the stage and gave a wonderfully emotional speech, danced a slow dance with Jemma and before we knew it the night was over. Donna and I were two of the last to leave. We had drunk shedloads and were more than a little messy. Richie stood on the dancefloor making sure he said goodbye to everyone. Full of beer, I gave him a massive hug, cried and said, “I love you so much, Richie Billingham. No-one has ever made me laugh like you do and no-one ever will!”
Richie hugged back,
“Piss off you big oyster diver! I’ve done enough crying for one night, don’t get me started again!”
As we slumped on to the backseats of the taxi, Donna looked at me and slurred, “Do you know what, Cal, your brother Jim is alright, but your brother Richie has to be the best brother that ever lived.”
And he was.
Richie
“OK, this is going to be tough! First of all, I owe you all an apology. As you could probably tell, I did not have the foggiest idea that this party was taking place tonight and once I did know, as you will have noticed, I did not want to come in. Now let me make one thing clear, that is not a reflection of how I feel about any of you, it’s a relection of how I feel about myself right now. This tired, bald, skinny man does not feel like me, it feels like a pale imitation of my former self and I did not want your abiding memory of me to be this emaciated, nine stone weakling.
It was Jemma that persuaded me to come in. She felt it was important for you to see me and equally important for me to see all of you. As has often been the case in our marriage, I was wrong and Jemma was right. I cannot possibly tell you how much tonight has meant to me. My dear mother has always said to me that you can tell a lot about a man by the quality of his friends and if that is the case then I am the most brilliant, wonderful man that has ever lived. Words cannot describe how grateful I am to all of you for coming here tonight and for the friendship you have offered me throughout my life. From the bottom of my heart and the heart of my bottom, I thank you!
I feel a bit like Yul Bryner right now, because to an extent this feels like I am speaking to you all from beyond the grave. To have advanced warning of your demise, in a way, is a great thing, as you get the opportunity to say your goodbyes to everyone you love, but all things considered, I still wish I could have slipped away in my sleep aged ninety three. Although I said it was something I really felt uncomfortable about , could I ask all of you to have a good look at me. A really good look. The reason I ask, is because this dying body that is just about managing to stand before you, is a victim of my laziness and forgetfulness. It’s far too late for ‘if onlys’ now , but if I’d have regularly checked for lumps, none of us would be at this “Pre-Funeral” party tonight. Please don’t ever make the same mistake as me.
With regards to thank yous, I have already done a collective one, so I am only going to do one more. I just want to thank my amazing wife, Jemma. I am not scared of death itself, it comes to us all, what I hate though, what I really, really hate, is that death will take my wife and my children away from me forever. We take things for granted in life. We get upset when trivial things don’t happen the way we want them to. At times in my marriage, I have failed to appreciate how incredibly lucky I have been to spend the last ten years with Jemma. Jemma is the strongest, most loyal, most beautiful woman I have had the privilege of knowing. I am ashamed that I did not appreciate that fact for every second I have had with her. I would have loved to have grown old with her and watched those beguiling blue eyes smile out from an old ladies face, but it was not to be. To quote Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
“I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out.”
Now I know tonight has been a little unorthodox, but I want to continue with the theme of doing things a little differently. Many of you were at our wedding reception at Briars Hall and witnessed our first dance, well now, whilst I still have the strength to get around a dance floor for three minutes, I want you to witness our “Last Dance”. Jemma knows nothing about this, but I asked the DJ earlier whether he has a lovely song by Natalie Merchant called ‘ My Beloved Wife’. The song is about an old widower looking back on the fifty wonderful years he spent with his wife before she passed away. Every emotion in the song expresses how I feel about my beloved wife, Jemma. I love you so much Jemma and will never stop loving you!
DJ, if you could start the music and Jemma, if you cold be good enough to steer me round the dancefloor for the duration of the song, I will be eternally grateful!
Thanks once again everybody, please feel free to join us on the dancefloor, enjoy the rest of the night and I hope the rest of your lives are filled with health, wealth and happiness.
Richie
My family are around me now. Mum, Dad, Jim, Caroline, Helen and Jemma. Sometimes I forgot where the kids are and I panic and ask for them, but in moments of clarity I remember they are with Amy. Better there than here.
I can feel Jemma holding my hand. She keeps talking. Keeps trying to soothe the pain, constantly re-assuring me everything will be fine, but I only hear some of what she says now as I slip in and out of consciousness
I know I’m in hospital. I know they have put me in a side room, away from the moans and groans of people with minor ailments. I know from the strange sounds emanating from my body that this is the end. When you make love, you reach a stage when you know the orgasm is coming and nothing can be done to stop it. That’s the stage I have reached with death now, it is coming and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
I want to sit up for one last time. I want to tell Jemma there is no pain, just haze. Tell her not to worry. I try to move, to hoist myself
up, but nothing happens. Nothing at all. I release a deep sigh. There feels like there’s little air left in my lungs now. I’m checking out, I know I’m checking out. I’d love to stay, but I have already lost my grip on the cliff, I’m just waiting to hit the ground.
A tear drips on to my face. I look up and Jemma’s tear filled eyes are looking right down at me. I try to smile to comfort her, to tell her not to be sad, that it will all be OK, but even my lips are barely moving now. With all my might, I try to squeeze Jemma’s hand and although I think I manage to tighten slightly, I’m not sure it’s enough for her to notice. I feel her kiss my dry lips. I feel a depth of love I have only felt before when I witnessed the birth of my children. I want to tell Jemma that I feel more for her than anyone has ever felt for another human being, but I can’t. I’m so glad that I have been given the time to tell her before. I only wish I had been given more time to show her.
My body jolts. It feels different, but I understand that it’s a new phase. Not long now. I look at Jemma one last time. She gradually disappears like the picture on an old television screen. I feel sadness. Overwhelming sadness, then that fades too. All I can see is a tunnel, three dimensional, bizarrely reminiscent of the 1970’s credits to Doctor Who. I’m moving along it. A bright white light at the end is forcing me towards it like a magnet. This is the end. The very end. I thought I would love Jemma forever but forever is over. What lies beyond the light? God only knows.
