by Trish D.
“Hey”, I casually said as I sat down beside him on the steps to the front porch.
“Hey, what’s up”, he responded without looking up.
I could tell by his voice and demeanor that the appointment had not gone well. I knew I had to prepare myself for bad news. “You weren’t at school today. I’ve been looking for you all day.”
“I took the longest drive I could today after the appointment. I needed sometime to myself to try and process everything.”
“What did the doctor say?” I was nervous to ask but I had to know what was going on.
“The worst possible news. He— “Derrick stopped mid-sentence as his voice began to crack. I wished that I knew what to say at that point, but I didn’t. He continued as I grabbed his hand. “He said that the chemotherapy isn’t working. The tumor is too aggressive.”
The news hit me like a ton of bricks, so I couldn’t imagine how Derrick was feeling. It was the worst possible news. I wanted to remain hopeful and optimistic for him, but how could I? He had so many people praying for him. Why wasn’t’ God listening? “Well then they operate right? I mean I know that’s not what you wanted, it’s not what any of us wanted, but it’s the only option.”
“There won’t be any surgery. The scan they took of my head showed that the tumor is in a location that would make surgery too dangerous.”
“I don’t understand. If the chemo is not working and surgery isn’t an option then what is left to do?”
“Nothing! There is absolutely nothing left to do but sit here and wait for this thing to kill me.”
“You can’t just give up. You told me you were going to fight and beat this thing.”
“I don’t know Cheryl. I don’t know why this had to happen to me and why the chemo didn’t work. I wish I did. We have to prepare ourselves though and face the facts. I’m going to die. The doctor said that unless some miracle happens, I will die soon.”
There was nothing to say after that. What could I say? Derrick had accepted that he was going to die and somehow I had to accept that too.
∞∞∞
The two months following that day, life was such a blur. It was a constant routine of school, work, and worry. I worried every time the phone rang, I worried what Derrick’s mood and physical appearance would be when I went to see him. I worried if it would be the last day I would see or talk to him. Derrick had lost thirty pounds in two months and suffered constantly from painful headaches. His ability to carry out basic motor functions varied on a daily basis, which had a large effect on him mentally. He had missed so many days of school that his mom decided to withdraw him. Most people at school had learned that he was dying and it felt as though once again everyone was looking at me. I was the girl who was cursed to have two people close to her die. I was toxic. What was wrong with me and why did this have to happen again? I asked myself this daily, but unfortunately, I never got an answer.
Derrick was in and out of the hospital so many times it was impossible to keep count. He was always in so much pain and the doctors were never really able to help. I would go to see him each time he had to go to the hospital and each time he refused to let me come in the room. At first his mom would make up excuses about him being too tired for visitors or that the doctors were looking at him. After a while we both got tired of the excuses and I knew to just go straight to the waiting area and wait for his mom to come give me an update. The one time that Derrick actually requested for me to come to see him was during the middle of the night on a Saturday, when he was admitted for vomiting blood. My heart jumped when the phone rang and I contemplated not answering. After talking to Derrick’s mom, I sat and stared at the clock that read 1:48am. I wondered what made him want to see me after being adamant all the other times. What was I walking into? Daddy insisted on riding with me to the hospital since it was so late and I was actually glad that I didn’t have to go alone.
I held my breath when I walked into Derrick’s hospital room, not knowing what to expect. I touched his left arm that was on top of the blankets with an IV inserted, and he slowly opened his eyes. He opened his mouth to try and talk and it was obvious that just the act of him opening his mouth was causing him more pain.
“Don’t try to talk Derrick. Just rest.” I squeezed his cold hand and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and just stared at him. The cancer ate him up. He was so thin and fragile that I wondered if holding his hand caused him to be in more pain.
“I’m glad you came.” Derrick spoke barely above the whisper and I almost didn’t hear him over the constant beeps of the machines.
“Of course I came. I was surprised when I got the call that you were asking for me.”
“I didn’t want you to see me like this. It’s embarrassing.”
“You look fine” I lied.
“Liar!” He gave a slight smile, but his eyes were still closed.
“When are you getting out of here?” I asked after a few minutes of silence. It took Derrick so long to answer that I thought he had fallen asleep. When I saw the tear roll down his face I knew that he just didn’t want to answer. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just tired Cheryl. I am so tired and I don’t want do this anymore. I don’t want to leave you and I don’t want to leave my family, but I’m tired of being in pain. I just want to rest.”
“Please don’t talk like that Derrick. You have to keep fighting and praying for a miracle. Just promise that you will keep fighting.”
“I tried. I’ve been trying so hard for so long. I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired. I’m sorry Cheryl. I have to let go.”
I sat there with Derrick until the nurse told me I had to leave. It was almost 4am and they had been courteous to let me stay outside of visiting hours. Derrick was asleep, but I hoped that he felt me kiss him on the forehead and whisper in his ear to “rest well.”
The whole ride home I hoped and prayed that Derrick would leave the hospital. I wanted more time with him. I knew it was selfish since he was in so much pain, but I just wasn’t ready to let go. Deep down I knew that we had had our last conversation and that more than likely, he would not be leaving the hospital. When we got back home I laid in bed with the phone beside me and waited for the call. My body wanted me to sleep, but my heart felt guilty about even trying to. The phone call came at 10:04pm. I hadn’t left my room at all that day, let alone gotten out of bed. At some point I had fallen asleep and the ringing phone woke me up. When I saw Derrick’s mom’s cell phone number on the caller ID I froze and was too nervous to answer. Maybe I wasn’t nervous, but more trying to avoid hearing what she was going to tell me. When I didn’t answer on my phone line, I heard my parents’ line ring. I ignored the knock on my room door and wanted to kick myself when I realized that I had forgotten to lock it. My first thought was to pretend to be asleep, but I didn’t react quickly enough and when I saw the grim look on Daddy’s face I lost it. He tried to console me, telling me over and over how sorry he was, but it was no use. Every feeling of anger, sadness, confusion and frustration came out in that very moment and as much as he tried and wanted to, Daddy couldn’t help.
Derrick’s wake was scheduled for the following Thursday followed by the funeral on Friday. During the days leading up to it, my phone rang non-stop from people checking on me, but I didn’t answer a single call. Every time the phone rang, I got upset. Most of the people I would listen to their voice messages and couldn’t place their face. I didn’t even know how they had my phone number. They didn’t know me and certainly didn’t know Derrick so what made them think it was OK to call? I figured they were calling to be nosey. I had missed the whole week of school and truly wished that I never had to go back. It was bad enough when I had to deal with the stares and whispers after Jackie’s death, but at least I had Derrick and didn’t have to deal with it alone. As much as my family and others tried, no one could possibly understand how I felt or what I was going through. I had never felt so alone, yet I didn’t want to talk or be around any
one.
My parents once again found themselves in a position where they had to balance offering their support and allowing me space. I hated that I was putting them in the same situation again. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have gotten out bed the first few days, let alone bathed or ate. By mid-week I felt I had to stay out of my room to keep from going crazy. People were still calling and I found myself wishing that I would look at the caller ID and see that it was Derrick calling. My heart broke a little more each time it was some random number. I had to get away from the phone. I planted myself on the living room couch to watch “The Goonies” when Mommy came to join me. She took a break from her usual cooking and cleaning to watch the movie with me. It wasn’t in her nature to automatically know what to say during difficult times, but she did have a way of being comforting by just being there.
“How about we go find you a new dress for the wake and funeral?” I ignored her and continued to flip through the channels after the movie ended. “Cheryl honey, what do you think about getting out for a little while?”
“I don’t want to leave the house. I don’t want to run into anyone that I know and have to answer their questions” I finally responded. That was only half the truth though. I wasn’t ready to find a dress for Derrick’s funeral. For me that meant I really had to say goodbye and I wasn’t ready. I needed more time.
“I know what you are going through Cheryl. When your grandfather died, I thought it was the worst thing that I would ever have to deal with. That was of course until grandma died. If it weren’t for family supporting me, I don’t know how I could have made it through. I know it’s hard to believe that it gets better, but it does. It may take a while, but it will get better. Don’t push people away, let us help you.”
“I’m not ready,” I said in between sobs. “I’m not ready to say good-bye. This is so unfair.”
“You’re right. It is unfair and it’s so unfortunate that you have to deal with something like this, but it is your decision how you choose to handle it. You can be angry and push everyone away or you can let us support you.”
She was right. A part of me still wanted to be stubborn and keep my feelings to myself, but I knew that it would do me no good. That conversation with Mommy was the reality check I needed. I had to choose between continuing to wallow in my misery or do my best to move on with the support of my family. That afternoon we went to the mall, even though I was sure that I would run into someone from school. Mommy was in rare form just chatting away. I was so thrown off by having to carry a conversation with her that eventually I forgot that I was supposed to be worried about seeing classmates. I was able to find something to wear for both the wake and funeral and after shopping we enjoyed a late lunch outside. The fresh air made a world of difference. For the first time in days I felt alive and refreshed. I knew it would be short lived, but for that moment it was nice.
Close to two hundred people showed up to Derrick’s wake. Hundreds more showed up for the funeral. Those who couldn’t find a seat lined up against the walls of the church or stood outside to listen to the service. I was so amazed at the number of people that came out to pay their respect that I had to let go of my feelings of annoyance that they didn’t know him personally. Derrick had to feel the love in that church. I don’t know how long I stood and stared at Derrick’s body during the wake. He looked so peaceful. It was really hard to be sad when I saw him. He was finally free of all the pain and that was a thought that made me smile. The funeral went on for some time due to the amount of people wanting to say something about Derrick. There was so much I wanted to say about Derrick too, but something kept me glued to my seat. I felt the same anxieties as I did at Grandma’s funeral when we arrived at the burial plot, but I made myself get out of the car. It was decision that I regretted. People were crying out all around as they lowered his body. I wanted to run far away from what was happening. Once his casket was lowered it seemed so final. He was gone.
The remainder of my junior year was tough. I had developed a routine of seeing Derrick after my classes or going to see him at home. They were habits that were so hard to break. The whole moving on thing seemed impossible. I continued to work and when time allowed, Kristin and me would hang out. There were so many days I just wanted to lock myself in room and cry but I didn’t partly because of the conversation I had with Mommy and mostly because I knew Derrick wouldn’t have wanted me to. The one thing I was adamant about was not running track. There were just too many memories attached from both Jackie and Derrick. I didn’t want anyone to try and change my mind even though I knew I was disappointing a lot of people including myself. I was glad that no one had much to say over my decision despite how they felt about it.
The end of the school year was a relief and burden at the same time. Daily, I feared that someone would approach me at school to ask about Derrick’s death. People approached me all the time to tell me how sorry they were. I learned to smile and say thank you, but the one thing I didn’t want was for people to barrage me with questions. I literally counted down the days to summer break, but when the final bell rang; it hit me that I was going to have a lot of free time. The last thing I wanted or needed was time to just sit and think about everything that was going on. Daddy had suggested that I join a grief support group for teens. I hated that idea even though I had pushed for Derrick to go. When Shanna invited me to spend a few weeks in Wilmington with her, I liked her suggestion a lot better.
Shanna had plans to visit with Craig’s family, which meant it would be at least a week before I would be able to go to Wilmington. With my parent’s insistence I agreed to go to the grief support group meeting. I worked the morning shift before the meeting and was so tired after a busy day that I contemplated not going. Aside from being tired, I didn’t know if I was ready to open up. It was hard for me to talk to my family about Derrick’s death; I didn’t know how I could open up to a group of strangers. I knew I would never hear the end of it if I didn’t go, so I hesitantly made my way to the location. There were six people in the group. It was all girls except for one guy, who looked just as thrilled as I was to be there. We started with introductions and I immediately felt out of place since everyone else was there for the death of a parent or sibling. Then there was me who was there for the death of my boyfriend. I felt so awkward that when it was time for me to share my story I froze.
“I-I’ll pass this time.” I managed to stammer out. People who had lost their blood relatives surrounded me. I didn’t feel like my story even compared.
“Are you sure? There is no judgment here, only support.” The group leader was sincere and I wished it were just us one-on-one.
“I’m sure.”
Initially, I was mad at myself for not just getting it out. I couldn’t figure out why I cared what those people thought of me. Instead of the group making me feel better, I felt worse. I heard some of the most depressing stories that I had ever heard in my life. They had all endured a front row seat to watching someone suffer and die terrible a death. It made me realize how much Derrick had spared me. I knew he was in pain and I knew the chemo had horrible side effects, but I didn’t see what they saw. As I sat there and listened to the stories I realized that I had done the right thing by keeping quiet. I finally understood why he would avoid me at times and wouldn’t let me come see him in the hospital. I appreciated Derrick even more for what he protected me from. I wished that I could have just one more minute with him; just enough time to tell him thank you.
That night I drove home trying to prepare myself to go home with the fakest smile I could muster. I had to do whatever it would take to convince my parents that the meeting had been all they expected. I even rehearsed what I would say to make them believe that it had done me some good. I walked in expecting for Daddy to be up waiting for me. I was so surprised to see Mommy sitting on the couch waiting that I forgot I was supposed to be pretending to be happy. For some reason, when I saw her, I didn’t feel the need to pretend to be OK.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“He was tired from work. I told him to go on to bed and that I would wait up for you.”
“Oh.” It was all I could think of to say as I plopped down on the couch beside her.
“Well, how did it go? I hear good things about John and the groups he runs there.”
I didn’t answer right away. I was going back and forth in my mind as to whether I wanted stick with my plan of saying it was helpful or tell the truth. I felt like they needed this group to be helpful more than me. It was obvious that they were having a hard time trying to figure out how to help me. The support group was their way of getting some of the pressure off of them. A part of me felt obligated to give them that relief. I didn’t think it was fair for me to be such a burden. The other part of me felt like I needed to get it out. The conversation I had with Mommy before Derrick’s funeral was still fresh on my mind, but I wondered if it had an expiration date. I took a long deep breath before answering.
“It wasn’t good.”
I started crying as soon as I started to tell Mommy about what had happened at the group. I knew Mommy didn’t know what to say, but just having her there to listen was the best therapy for me at that point. If she was burdened or exhausted from having to deal with my grief and me she never once made it known. I would never have thought that Mommy would be the one to have my back during such a difficult time. It had never been her role, but somehow she was pulling it off like a champ. I only hoped that at some point I could repay her or at least tell her how amazing she was.
