Please Don't Cry

by Jane Plume

  That was the longest night I have ever known.

  • • •

  The following morning a few family and friends were going to visit the site of the crash, but I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to see the place my best friend had taken her last breath.

  We slowly pieced together what had happened. Gina had been travelling along a steeply undulating road – known to locals as ‘Roller-coaster Road’ because of its peaks and troughs – when she collided with another car, driven by a young man coming in the opposite direction. There was nothing that she could have done to avoid the crash. She died at the scene, as did the other driver. I was told that her death would have been instantaneous, but even so I couldn’t stop thinking that she had been alone and frightened, and I hadn’t been there for her.

  Shaun had to go back to the hospital to collect some paperwork and see Gina. I went with him, along with Gina’s parents, Gina’s sister Keri and her husband Mike, Shaun’s brother David and his wife Lisa. We sat in a cold, stark little room while someone went through the formalities of the paperwork, then we were told we could see her. Shaun went in first on his own, the rest of us taking our turn after him.

  My beautiful friend was lying in a hospital gown. This broke my heart as she had always hated them. Her hair had been washed and it had gone curly – another thing she hated – so I ran my fingers through it, trying to straighten it, and adjusted her fringe, which was out of place. All the time I was talking, telling her, ‘This isn’t funny, wake up, come back.’

  ‘Life doesn’t work without you in it,’ I said, but obviously I got nothing back, I could barely breathe and the hurt was indescribable. I hugged her and held her hand – I have no idea how long for but when I moved away I saw that my tears had left a wet patch on her gown.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ve snotted on you now!’

  She would have laughed at that if she could have heard me. But my beautiful, loving, amazing best friend had gone, and taken the laughter with her.

  Eventually I had to leave, and my last words to her were, ‘You’re a beautiful angel now, babe. Spread your wings and fly…’

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER 6

  FAREWELL, MY FRIEND

  The days after the accident passed in a blur of activity. It was busy, because there was so much to do, but at the same time, everything seemed to move in slow motion. Shaun was lost. I tried to give him direction and support, as did Gina’s parents, his own family and friends and his rugby teammates, but he was struggling with his overwhelming grief.

  The toughest thing to tackle was the funeral arrangements. Shaun knew that he had to ring the funeral director’s and he got as far as typing the number into his phone a couple of times, then went to put the phone to his ear and changed his mind. Eventually he held the phone out to me. He didn’t need to put it into words, I knew what he was asking, so I simply nodded my head, took the phone and walked out into the garden. If I really had to make that call, I needed to be alone.

  The funeral director Suzanne was a lovely lady and I explained to her that Shaun hated Gina being in the hospital. He felt she was alone and, at the very least, he wanted her back in the village. Suzanne promised me that she would get Gina home as soon as possible. I was really touched that She had referred to it as ‘bringing her home’. It was only a small detail but it meant so much to hear. I arranged for Shaun to go and see her the following day so that he could talk through the arrangements, and he asked me if I would come along with him for moral support.

  We all continued to rally round, thinking of the practical things that would need to be done. I knew Shaun would need a lot of help so I took some time off work. I wouldn’t have been much use there anyway, consumed as I was with thoughts of Gina and her family. We made a list of telephone calls that would need to be made, made sure Shaun and the boys were eating, and made tea and coffee for the never-ending stream of visitors who dropped in to pay their respects. The amount of support was overwhelming and the sheer number of visits, calls, texts and sympathy cards was unbelievable. Shaun kept Gina’s Facebook account active as the messages and tributes being written on her wall were all so affectionate and moving. A message was never posted informing friends of her tragic death, but word soon got round that this vibrant person, so loving and full of life, had been taken away from us. An actual tribute page was also created. To this day we don’t know who did that. It is still an open page and people continue to write on both this page and Gina’s Facebook wall.

  The reason for this outpouring was easy to understand. Gina was an amazing, warm, loveable lady who was loved by so many people, and this love extended to the three people that mattered to her most: her husband Shaun and their two wonderful little boys.

  The following day Emma took the boys out for a few hours while Shaun and I went to the funeral director’s. As we sat discussing the plans, I felt oddly detached, as if I wasn’t really in the room. I didn’t want to believe it was really happening.

  The design we chose for the order of service and the memorial cards showed footprints in the sand, and we gave Suzanne the words that we wanted to go into the newspaper. Shaun chose a white coffin with silver handles and plaque, and he was asked if there was anyone in particular that he would like to carry Gina into church. He looked over at me with a questioning face and I asked Suzanne if she could give us a minute alone.

  ‘Of course,’ she replied, gently placing a hand on Shaun’s shoulder. ‘I’ll go and make us all a cup of tea, just take your time.’

  I really didn’t know how to approach what I was about to say to Shaun. Gina and I had had a number of conversations over the last year about what would happen when Shaun slipped away and she asked me to write down certain details that she wanted, and to keep the list somewhere safe so that when the time came, if she fell to bits, things would still be done the way she wanted them. One of these conversations had included the pallbearers, and she had chosen a few of his closest friends, who were her friends too.

  Shaun sat still as I told him what we had talked about and, when it came to the pallbearers, I crouched down in front of him and took his hands, so I could look into his eyes. In response, he looked at me, sadly, and nodded.

  ‘That’s who I want to carry her then,’ he said. ‘She’s chosen them for herself.’

  Just then Suzanne returned with a tray of drinks and I passed the names on to her. Suzanne explained the other details that we would need to finalise and we said goodbye. As we left the funeral parlour, my whole body felt heavy with tiredness, I was emotionally drained. Shaun’s own devastation must have felt even more overwhelming. I honestly don’t know how he managed to put one foot in front of the other.

  Despite his crushing grief, however, Shaun was bearing up admirably and he was doing an amazing job of looking after the two boys. Health-wise, he had been doing so well for so long on the inhibitor drug that people had seemed to have forgotten that he was ill. Despite his initial prognosis in the summer of 2009 that gave him only six to nine months to live, over a year later there were no signs of change in him. He’d completed the treatment, his hair had grown back and he was still working, so it was easy to forget he was poorly.

  He was a brave, proud man but every now and again, usually when he was alone with me, or with me and Emma, his exterior would crack and the tears would flow. I couldn’t find any words of comfort because there really weren’t any, so we would just hold his hand, let him know that he wasn’t alone and that we would always be there for him and the boys.

  After our appointment with Suzanne, I went with Shaun to the supermarket to get some essentials. We pulled up on to his drive and as I was lifting some of the shopping bags out of the boot, I heard Shaun say my name. I peered around the car at him.

  ‘What’s up?’ I said.

  ‘Would you speak at Gina’s funeral?’ he asked me. I hadn’t been expecting that.

  ‘I… I… I’m not sure,’ I stammered in reply.

  �
�You don’t have to,’ he reassured me. ‘But it would mean so much if you did. I can’t think of anyone that Gina or I would rather have do it than you.’

  I nodded my head slowly. ‘I’m so honoured. I will try, but I can’t promise,’ I said, my voice breaking.

  Shaun asked me and Emma to be there when the vicar came to talk to him about the funeral service and we reassured him that we would be at his side every step of the way. Chris, the vicar, was a lovely man, putting us all at ease as much as he could under the circumstances. After chatting about Gina, her work, the sort of mother and wife she was, and gathering a few stories from us, he asked the three of us to give him a couple of words or a phrase we felt best described her. Shaun simply said, ‘She was my rock.’ I said ‘beautiful smile’, and Emma said ‘bubbly’. That made us all laugh because Gina hated being described as bubbly. She always thought it was a polite way of saying that someone on the large side was happy, as in ‘big and bubbly’, so Emma changed the word to ‘vivacious’.

  We chose the hymn together and Shaun said he wanted Gina to leave the church to ‘their song’, Starship’s ‘Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now’, which we all agreed was a fitting choice. Then Chris asked if there was any music that Shaun would like as Gina was brought into the church and, lost, he looked over towards me and Emma. As Gina loved Robbie Williams, I suggested ‘Angels’, and we all agreed, then Chris took the final details, kindly said a prayer and left.

  The three of us sat quietly, each lost in our own thoughts. I can’t say what Shaun and Emma had running through their minds, but I remember thinking, ‘This is real, it’s actually happening.’ My best friend had gone and there was nothing I could do about it.

  • • •

  On the Saturday after Gina died, Shaun’s old team Shepshed Rugby Football Club had a match scheduled. After clearing it with Shaun, they all wore something pink that day in memory of Gina. Shaun brought the boys along, and Shaun’s dad was there along with other family members, all wearing something pink themselves. As the match was about to start the referee blew his whistle and both teams stood in a minute’s silence as a tribute. The silence spoke volumes. In just a few seconds these big burly men would be charging round a pitch, aggressively tackling each other, shouting and swearing; yet here they were, standing stock still in reverential camaraderie, respecting Shaun’s and the boys’ grief and, perhaps, lost in their own thoughts of the wonderful lady they had lost.

  Shaun was due to be at a motocross meeting on the following Sunday. He admitted that part of him still wanted to go, but that he felt guilty so we all told him that he should. Gina would have wanted him to and it would be good for the boys to get out of the house for a day. He and Gina had built up a good group of friends through motocross and we thought it would be helpful for Shaun to see them.

  I wasn’t able to go with them on the day as I had other commitments, but Shaun’s brother David and his family were going to be there, so I knew there were people looking out for Shaun and the boys.

  That night, when he got home, I spoke to Shaun on the phone. He was quite overwhelmed by the number of people that had come to him throughout the day to pass on their condolences and to say what a lovely woman Gina was. I asked him about his races and he said he wasn’t sure how he had even managed to get round, as he had been blinded by tears. Every time he had come to the part of the track where Gina would usually stand, he automatically looked out for her. I told him that I knew she would be proud of him. I’m sure she was still there, cheering him on from the sidelines.

  A couple of days later, Suzanne, the funeral director, rang while I was helping out at Shaun’s house. I had brought Marco, Millie and Anni-Mae with me.

  ‘Hello Jane,’ she said softly. ‘Could you please let Shaun know that Gina is home.’

  I put my phone down, tears streaming down my face, and walked into the kitchen to tell Shaun. He simply nodded then disappeared upstairs. I didn’t follow him, I stayed with the five children downstairs, and kept them busy making dinner. I knew that Shaun needed to be alone.

  The following day Shaun said that he needed to think about what clothes he wanted to dress Gina in, now that she was ‘home’. Again, he turned to me and Emma.

  ‘I really don’t know,’ he said. ‘Can you two decide, please?’

  Emma and I took ourselves up to Gina and Shaun’s bedroom. We sat on the edge of the bed looking at each other and said, almost in unison, ‘Her wedding dress!’ As we opened the wardrobe to find it, we both stopped in our tracks. Gina’s clothes hung on the rails – not very neatly – waiting for her to pick out was she was going to wear for work the next day. Goodness knows how many pairs of shoes were stacked up in the bottom. Nothing had been moved since the day Gina stood in front of the wardrobe, making sense of the chaos. She had always joked that it wasn’t chaotic in her eyes, as she knew exactly where everything was.

  We wanted to make sure she looked her best for the big send-off. Emma and I found the pink gown that she had worn on the day that she and Shaun had renewed their wedding vows just over a year ago, then we slowly picked everything else from that day: shoes, jewellery, even the same underwear. I put her favourite perfume into the bag as well.

  We knew that Gina had worn a shawl on that day but we couldn’t find it anywhere. Suddenly, Emma exclaimed, ‘It was her something borrowed! She borrowed it from the lady that did her makeup on the day.’ Our hearts sank. Neither of us knew her, but we needn’t have worried. A couple of phone calls later we had the lady’s name, address and telephone number. As soon as I explained who I was and why I was ringing, she asked me to come round and, when I arrived, she wrapped me in a hug, tears running down her face. Gina had only met her once but had obviously made a strong impression. She handed me the shawl, clean and folded neatly, and just said, ‘Have it.’ We now had the exact outfit that Gina had worn on that day, one of the most emotional days of her life.

  Once we’d folded the clothes in a neat pile, we delivered the clothes to Suzanne and I told her, ‘Don’t forget to straighten her hair, will you?’ Like me, Gina could never stand it if her hair hadn’t been straightened. ‘And please give her a squirt of perfume once she’s dressed,’ I added.

  Suzanne phoned me a couple of hours later to ask if Gina had a brooch to hold the shawl in place. Shaun said that she didn’t have one that he knew of, so Suzanne told us not to worry as she could discreetly use a safety pin.

  A couple of days later I was going to see Gina in the chapel of rest. That morning I sat in my bedroom with my jewellery box on my knee. Somehow a safety pin for the shawl didn’t feel right. I looked down at the cold metal that I was turning over and over in my hand – a silver brooch, not worth much but, to me, it was priceless. This little piece of costume jewellery had been given to me by my mum, who had passed away when I was 16. I treasured anything that she had given me, but most of all this brooch as it had originally been my grandma’s. It was a bit battered and bent, with one of the little stones missing, but it was still beautiful. My mum had loved it and I knew she would have expected it to go to one of my daughters but, at the same time, I knew she wouldn’t have been cross with me for giving to my best friend. In fact, I’d like to think that she would have been proud of me.

  An hour or so later, I arrived at Shaun’s house, showed him the brooch and asked if it would be all right to pin it to Gina’s shawl.

  He nodded his head. ‘Of course, it’s lovely,’ he replied as he gently placed the brooch back in my hand.

  On the way to visiting Gina, I remember feeling sick to the core. A number of people had said that they would come with me if I wished, but this was something I wanted to do alone. As I walked through the door of the funeral director’s, I shook from head to toe. Suzanne greeted me warmly and guided me to a chair.

  ‘Take as long as you need,’ she said kindly.

  Keri, Gina’s sister, and her husband were already there. They went in before me and I could hear Keri crying through the door. After
some time they came out and Keri offered to come back in with me. I shook my head, we said our goodbyes, and then it was my turn to enter the room. I knew what to expect as I had visited my mum, dad and grandmothers in chapels of rest, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  Suzanne opened the door to the little room and placed her hand gently on my arm as I walked in, then closed the door quietly behind me and left. It was just me and my best friend.

  Gina looked like she was asleep. Her hair wasn’t quite as she liked it but to me she was still perfect. I gently took her hand in mine and spoke to her between the waves of tears and emotions. I told her about the brooch and why it was so special and that I wanted her to have it now. I undid the clasp with shaky hands and pinned it in place on the shawl around Gina’s shoulders. It was hard to let go of it when it was so special to me, but somehow I knew it was the right thing to do.

  ‘Look after it for me,’ I told her gently.

  It was hard to believe that the last time she had worn these clothes she had been laughing and joking and as loud as ever, larger than life, appreciating every moment she spent with her family and friends. Now this horrible and unexpected turn of events had turned everything upside down and inside out. I knew that no matter how many times I asked why, I would never get an answer.

  In the next four days before the funeral, I went to see Gina and spend time with her on a number of occasions. There were things I wanted to say to her, that I couldn’t say to anyone else, and, in truth, I didn’t like the idea of her being alone. On one occasion Emma was going to see her to say her own goodbyes. Like me, she wanted to go in alone but asked if I would wait in reception, just in case. I watched as she tentatively entered the room, following Suzanne, just as I had done, but within a few seconds Suzanne emerged and told me Emma was asking for me. As I walked in Emma was sobbing, so I put my arms around her and we both let our emotions flow freely. As we stood there crying uncontrollably, I suddenly realised just how strong we had both been for everyone else, keeping the depth of our devastation hidden from the kids, from Shaun and even from each other. But now we could let the sorrow out, united in our grief for our wonderful friend.