Title: Letting Go
Author: Sandra
Email: signacio@free.fr
Category: Jake/Hamilton
Rating: PG
Summary: somewhere in ten years, sad fic, Hamilton is the narrator, no more..
Spoilers: duh!!!
Feedback: please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
..
I entered the room and put the tray on the wheeled hospital table that had been rented since Jake had come home a couple of months before, after her last chemo session.
She had been sick for so long now that I couldn't even remember "how" long. Before the baby was born was for sure. Yet she had been able to achieve the pregnancy. Barely, but still. I think the diagnosis came at the same time as the announce that she was pregnant as they were running so many tests to know why she had not been well.
I looked at her, my hands still resting on her breakfast tray. She looked so weak. She laid in bed in the exact same position I had put her the night before. Her breathing was shallow, laborious. Unable to hold the sight longer I diverted my eyes to the crib where our five months old daughter was peacefully sleeping. She'd been so quiet ever since she was born, almost as if she knew her mom needed rest.
My ideas are not so clear about the events following the announce of the cancer.
We wanted this baby so much that Jake refused to take any medication until it was born, let alone terminate it. The doctors were very clear that the later she would start her treatment the less effective it would be. But at the time she wouldn't hear about abortion, the only word she could focus on was "baby", "cancer" was pushed deep inside her brain, too deep to acknowledge yet. So she forgot it. And so did I.
That is, until she started getting sicker and sicker. By that time it was too late to do anything about either the baby or treatment. So she spent the last trimester in bed, in the hospital, just in case something might happen. But beside the intense weakness she felt I guess the joy of the event was enough to keep her going.
In no way was she able to be delivered naturally so on top of everything else she had to have a C-section. Needless to say that her first chemotherapy, only a week after the birth, was more than either of us could take. The sessions let her drained of any energy, she could barely hold the baby. But never once did she verbalised her pain or weariness. A smile was always planted on her lips, no matter what time the baby cried to be fed. A smile that always faded slowly when she gave Julie her bottle, as she had so wanted to be able to breast-feed our children. But of course the chemo prevented that as well as it prevented Jake being strong enough to do anything with her daughter.
I looked at Julie and wondered at how she looked like her mom. She opened her eyes and smiled at me. She had her mother's eyes, the exact same green, the exact same spark in them. A spark that had been missing from Jake's eyes for quite some time now.
I looked back at my wife, lying in bed, unable now to even get up for anything. She knew it, I knew it, the chemo had been no use at all. It had come too late. That's why she had been released from the hospital at last. To rest they had said. But palliative care was what it really was. There was nothing more they could do for her, yet she was holding on to life so strongly that I couldn't believe she was dying.
I met her eyes.
How long had she been looking at me?
"Hey gorgeous", she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible.
"Sorry I woke you", I apologized.
She shrugged a little and made a slight chin movement towards the baby.
I gathered Julie in my arms and softly placed her in Jake's. I could see how hard it was for her to hold her child. She painfully raised a finger and caressed Julie's cheek. The baby took hold of her index and I could see tears welling up in Jake's eyes. But she would never let them fall, as I would never let mine fall.
I couldn't believe how she could endure so much pain, the disease, the treatment, the baby. I had to cough a little to hide the sob I had almost let escape.
"Enough?" I asked her.
She nodded slightly, although her eyes told me that it was a physical pain to let her baby go. I put Julie back in her cot. I had already fed her and changed her before going down to prepare Jake's breakfast, so she fell back asleep quickly.
I couldn't speak right now, my throat being so tight and raspy.
I sat on the bed and handed Jake her orange juice. Actually I had to hold it to her lips for she was too weak to even lift it herself.
She took a small sip but shook her head right after it. She was no longer able to even drink or eat and a wave of nausea shook her body.
I raised my hand to her face and brushed it carefully, my fingers tracing the hem of the thin scarf wrapping her now hairless head.
I wiped a bead of sweat away as it started trickling down her temple and rested my fingers on her face, not moving, barely touching her.
I looked in her eyes again, seeing how exhausted she was. The tears that had been threatening to fall earlier were gathering once more in my eyes.
I wanted to scream to her to not leave me, that I couldn't live without her. But I realized. At last.
I asked her rhetorically if she wanted me to get her to the hospital, but her falsely exasperated smile told me she knew I had finally understood.
I was the reason she had been hanging on. Not Julie, not herself. I was the last thing keeping her from leaving.
I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to ask her again to stay, to keep on.
*Don't go, please don't go.* I was shouting internally. But how could I ask her that? She had suffered enough. I loved her too much to put her through more treatments, more nights in hospital. And all for what? A couple more weeks stuck in bed? A prolonged agony.
I bit my lips together as I finally released the tension and let my tears fall freely down my face.
I had to let her go.
I knew it.
She knew that I knew.
I closed my eyes tightly, breaking contact with her demanding gaze. I was choking, completely unable to take a proper breath.
She used the little of strength she had to raise her hand to my cheek and made me look at her again. She was crying too now, silently. "Please", she asked.
"I love you" I said, meaning it more than ever, trying to convey it with every word, every intonation.
"I know" she said, "forgive me."
I tried to smile but my face contorted in pain as I couldn't restrain a sob. There was nothing to forgive, all I could do was thank her for everything. Every day, every night, each smile and laugh, her kisses, her love.
I circled the bed and laid down beside her. Close enough to feel her body against mine, not enough to hurt her I hoped.
I took her hand in mine and rested my head in the hollow of her shoulder.
"Thank you", she breathed. I raised on my elbow a little and saw how peaceful she looked, like finally at peace. I let go of her hand and went to cup her face. My jaw trembled a little when I leaned to kiss her. I didn't want to cry again, but I knew there was no way I could help it.
Her lips were chapped and dry but I couldn't break the contact, as light as it was.
"Hamilton?" she asked against my lips.
"I know" I whispered, leaning back to were I was before.
She shook her head faintly and made me look into her eyes. "I love you too", she murmured, "tell Julie I'll miss her."
There was no more to say. I swallowed hard and picked up her hand again. I looked at our fingers entwined then shut my eyes tightly. I didn't even dare to breathe too deeply for fear of losing it completely.
We laid there silently, just waiting. Waiting for the inevitable to happen.
Then I heard it.
Barely a sigh. Not what I had imagined.
Her last breath.
I looked at her. My wife, my friend, my first and only love...
She looked like she was sleeping.
I laid across her tiny frame, circled her in my arms and started to sob uncontrollably.
The end.
Author: Sandra
Email: signacio@free.fr
Category: Jake/Hamilton
Rating: PG
Summary: somewhere in ten years, sad fic, Hamilton is the narrator, no more..
Spoilers: duh!!!
Feedback: please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
..
I entered the room and put the tray on the wheeled hospital table that had been rented since Jake had come home a couple of months before, after her last chemo session.
She had been sick for so long now that I couldn't even remember "how" long. Before the baby was born was for sure. Yet she had been able to achieve the pregnancy. Barely, but still. I think the diagnosis came at the same time as the announce that she was pregnant as they were running so many tests to know why she had not been well.
I looked at her, my hands still resting on her breakfast tray. She looked so weak. She laid in bed in the exact same position I had put her the night before. Her breathing was shallow, laborious. Unable to hold the sight longer I diverted my eyes to the crib where our five months old daughter was peacefully sleeping. She'd been so quiet ever since she was born, almost as if she knew her mom needed rest.
My ideas are not so clear about the events following the announce of the cancer.
We wanted this baby so much that Jake refused to take any medication until it was born, let alone terminate it. The doctors were very clear that the later she would start her treatment the less effective it would be. But at the time she wouldn't hear about abortion, the only word she could focus on was "baby", "cancer" was pushed deep inside her brain, too deep to acknowledge yet. So she forgot it. And so did I.
That is, until she started getting sicker and sicker. By that time it was too late to do anything about either the baby or treatment. So she spent the last trimester in bed, in the hospital, just in case something might happen. But beside the intense weakness she felt I guess the joy of the event was enough to keep her going.
In no way was she able to be delivered naturally so on top of everything else she had to have a C-section. Needless to say that her first chemotherapy, only a week after the birth, was more than either of us could take. The sessions let her drained of any energy, she could barely hold the baby. But never once did she verbalised her pain or weariness. A smile was always planted on her lips, no matter what time the baby cried to be fed. A smile that always faded slowly when she gave Julie her bottle, as she had so wanted to be able to breast-feed our children. But of course the chemo prevented that as well as it prevented Jake being strong enough to do anything with her daughter.
I looked at Julie and wondered at how she looked like her mom. She opened her eyes and smiled at me. She had her mother's eyes, the exact same green, the exact same spark in them. A spark that had been missing from Jake's eyes for quite some time now.
I looked back at my wife, lying in bed, unable now to even get up for anything. She knew it, I knew it, the chemo had been no use at all. It had come too late. That's why she had been released from the hospital at last. To rest they had said. But palliative care was what it really was. There was nothing more they could do for her, yet she was holding on to life so strongly that I couldn't believe she was dying.
I met her eyes.
How long had she been looking at me?
"Hey gorgeous", she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible.
"Sorry I woke you", I apologized.
She shrugged a little and made a slight chin movement towards the baby.
I gathered Julie in my arms and softly placed her in Jake's. I could see how hard it was for her to hold her child. She painfully raised a finger and caressed Julie's cheek. The baby took hold of her index and I could see tears welling up in Jake's eyes. But she would never let them fall, as I would never let mine fall.
I couldn't believe how she could endure so much pain, the disease, the treatment, the baby. I had to cough a little to hide the sob I had almost let escape.
"Enough?" I asked her.
She nodded slightly, although her eyes told me that it was a physical pain to let her baby go. I put Julie back in her cot. I had already fed her and changed her before going down to prepare Jake's breakfast, so she fell back asleep quickly.
I couldn't speak right now, my throat being so tight and raspy.
I sat on the bed and handed Jake her orange juice. Actually I had to hold it to her lips for she was too weak to even lift it herself.
She took a small sip but shook her head right after it. She was no longer able to even drink or eat and a wave of nausea shook her body.
I raised my hand to her face and brushed it carefully, my fingers tracing the hem of the thin scarf wrapping her now hairless head.
I wiped a bead of sweat away as it started trickling down her temple and rested my fingers on her face, not moving, barely touching her.
I looked in her eyes again, seeing how exhausted she was. The tears that had been threatening to fall earlier were gathering once more in my eyes.
I wanted to scream to her to not leave me, that I couldn't live without her. But I realized. At last.
I asked her rhetorically if she wanted me to get her to the hospital, but her falsely exasperated smile told me she knew I had finally understood.
I was the reason she had been hanging on. Not Julie, not herself. I was the last thing keeping her from leaving.
I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to ask her again to stay, to keep on.
*Don't go, please don't go.* I was shouting internally. But how could I ask her that? She had suffered enough. I loved her too much to put her through more treatments, more nights in hospital. And all for what? A couple more weeks stuck in bed? A prolonged agony.
I bit my lips together as I finally released the tension and let my tears fall freely down my face.
I had to let her go.
I knew it.
She knew that I knew.
I closed my eyes tightly, breaking contact with her demanding gaze. I was choking, completely unable to take a proper breath.
She used the little of strength she had to raise her hand to my cheek and made me look at her again. She was crying too now, silently. "Please", she asked.
"I love you" I said, meaning it more than ever, trying to convey it with every word, every intonation.
"I know" she said, "forgive me."
I tried to smile but my face contorted in pain as I couldn't restrain a sob. There was nothing to forgive, all I could do was thank her for everything. Every day, every night, each smile and laugh, her kisses, her love.
I circled the bed and laid down beside her. Close enough to feel her body against mine, not enough to hurt her I hoped.
I took her hand in mine and rested my head in the hollow of her shoulder.
"Thank you", she breathed. I raised on my elbow a little and saw how peaceful she looked, like finally at peace. I let go of her hand and went to cup her face. My jaw trembled a little when I leaned to kiss her. I didn't want to cry again, but I knew there was no way I could help it.
Her lips were chapped and dry but I couldn't break the contact, as light as it was.
"Hamilton?" she asked against my lips.
"I know" I whispered, leaning back to were I was before.
She shook her head faintly and made me look into her eyes. "I love you too", she murmured, "tell Julie I'll miss her."
There was no more to say. I swallowed hard and picked up her hand again. I looked at our fingers entwined then shut my eyes tightly. I didn't even dare to breathe too deeply for fear of losing it completely.
We laid there silently, just waiting. Waiting for the inevitable to happen.
Then I heard it.
Barely a sigh. Not what I had imagined.
Her last breath.
I looked at her. My wife, my friend, my first and only love...
She looked like she was sleeping.
I laid across her tiny frame, circled her in my arms and started to sob uncontrollably.
The end.