Can you see the photo? That's Mummy, Daddy and me - Emilia Zoe Bing. Ok, so at the time I was only 2 but I thought that my mum was the most beautiful bride that you would ever see. Her hair was up and had lots of pretty flowers in. She had let me put one of the flowers in and she told me it was the best one. Her dress was an ivory colour, quite tight at the top and it flared out at the bottom. Instead of a veil she wore a piece of silk material around her shoulders. She was so pretty. I think Daddy agreed as well because as she walked up the aisle behind me I saw that Daddy had tears in his eyes. The ceremony was beautiful. At the end of each row of chairs were flowers. In fact, there were flowers all over the place. Mummy loved flowers, expecially purple ones. Purple was one of her most favourite colours - my dress was purple. I was the flower girl. And, if I do say so myself, I think I was pretty good. I was throwing flowers this way and that way - a big smile on my face. The wedding ceremony mainly had a lot of crying but there was one bit of laughter. Well, the laughter came from everyone except me. It was after Mummy and Daddy had said their vows and were sitting down, listening to other people talking. I was pulling my flower petals from the basket when everything was quiet and then I looked in the basket and saw they were all gone. Of course, being 2, I didn't realise we were supposed to be quiet. So I said very loudly,
"All gone!" Everyone just erupted with laughter and I stood there, my bottom lip quivering until Daddy came and picked me up.
From what I've said you probably think that their wedding day was one of my most favourite days and I have to agree - it was. But my most favourite days are the ones I've had recently because they have shown me just how much they love me. I'm sorry but we're going to have to leave me at 2 and fast foward 11 years.
I'm 13 now. Long brown hair and piercing blue eyes. According to Mum and Dad I am really pretty. I think I am too but I am not as pretty as my mum - no one could be as pretty as her. I am an only child. It's quite good but I would like a sister sometimes. I can talk to my mum and dad about alomst anything and they are really easy to tell stuff to. There is just one problem that I have with them and that is - overprotectiveness. I think it's because I'm an only child. They want to constantly know where I am and stuff. It's annoying but I know they are only doing it because they love me. Now, I am quite an independent girl so I do everything by myself. I know how to take care of myself and I know when something is wrong. I go to the doctors by myself. I find out what is wrong. Then I keep it to myself. I know. I know. You shouldn't do that. But you need to build up the courage to tell the ones you love - don't you? So that is what I decided to do. I built up the courage to tell them. I circled the date in my diary - 5 May, 2017.
It is now that date and I am nervous. The last time I felt like this was when I had to tell them that I cheated on a test that I couldn't do because I wasn't there. They were so disappointed in me. I don't think they will be disappointed this time - at least, I hope not. Dad isn't home yet. Mum's in the kitchen cooking pasta. I'm lying on the couch writing in my diary. I've kept one ever since I could write. Sometimes I look back over my work and it's so funny. My writing and the way I used to put things on paper. I've just had my hair done. It used to be long and straight, ending down my back but now it has been cut to my shoulders and is wavy. Mum reckons it looks really good and I agree. Oh look, Dad's back - let's see what he thinks.
"Alright, sweetie, good day?" Dad puts down his briefcase and kisses the top of my head. He hasn't noticed. What a typical bloke!
"Yes, thanks." I look at him and he looks back. I look upwards and so does he - not quite sure what I'm getting at. "Mum!" I shout. My mum comes in, wiping her hands on a towel. Dad walks over and kisses her on the cheek.
"What?"
"He didn't notice."
"I didn't notice what?" Dad is getting seriously confused. Mum and I look at each other and smile.
"My hair." I tell him, twirling round.
"Oh. It looks great!" He says. Mum tuts and sighs and walks back into the kitchen.
"Dinner in 5. Wash up you two." Dad and I look at each other and I quickly run into the downstairs bathroom. Dad and I always have this game - seeing who is going to use which bathroom to wash up in. I wash my hands and then my face, taking 3 deep breaths. It was now or never.
Dinner was lovely. We had pasta with a tomato sauce and a potato salad. Mum has got us all on healthy eating. On Friday nights we are allowed something bad! Our dinner routine always follows the same pattern. It's served then we start eating in silence. About 2 minutes into it Mum and Dad will start talking. Tonight was no exception.
"How was your day, Mon?" Dad asked as he helped himself to a glass of wine. He and Mum often drink at the dinner table but hardly any other times, I'm only allowed water or orange juice. I don't mind - I quite like healthy eating.
"It was good except for my new co-chef. Always trying to make things faster and better than me. It's sooo annoying. How about you?"
"Don't worry dear," Dad says, rubbing her arm, "it'll get better. I had an average day.
They smiled at each other and then they turned to me. I was expecting, "How was your day?", but they didn't give me that.
"Anything you want to tell us, Emilia?" Mum asks.
"Why do you ask that?"
"Because you look like you do when you have something to tell us." Dad explained.
"Ok, you got me. But not here. In the living room." I walk into the living room and Mum and Dad follow, looking miffed. I sit down on one of the cream sofas and they sit on the other one. "I have some good news and some bad nwws."
"What's the good news?" Asks Mum.
"Well, the good news is I went to the doctors cos I've not been feeling too well and they gave me some medicine and you don't have to pay."
"That's good news?" Dad asks. He doesn't have a problem with money you see so he doesn't mind paying.
"Believe me - it's good news compared to..." I fade away. I look at the floor. I can sense Mum has gotten off the sofa next to Dad and is walking over to me. She crouches down on the floor and I look up. I can see the fear in her eyes and she can see the truth in mine. I told you how close we were, we can read each other like a book. Her eyes fill with tears as she pulls me onto the floor for a hug. My eyes start to fill up and spill over - just like hers. Then we pull away from each other and just look into each other's eyes.
"You know, sweetie, I love you. So does your Dad. We'll be there for you."
"Thanks." I sniff through my tears.
"Well, I would be if you could tell me what was wrong with you." Dad is standing up looking at us, sensing something is wrong. I let go of Mum and stand up and look at him.
"I'm dying, Dad."
"What?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
"I have leaukemia."