Saying good-bye - 1956-57

In late November 1956, shortly after Marianne was no longer able to get up from her bed, she and Patrick had a talk. "It won't be long now", Marianne had said. Patrick nodded and pressed his lips together. He held his wife's right hand with both of his and stroked one thumb across her palm. He watched her delicate fingers and smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" Marianne asked weakly.

"Your fingers," Patrick said. "I always loved watching you play the piano. You were in your own world then and you were so beautiful. You are always beautiful – but you at the piano, immersed in your music, this was my favourite sight of you." He bit his lips again, trying to prevent himself from crying.

Marianne sighed. "I am worried about you, Patrick," she said. Patrick shook his head and opened his mouth, but Marianne went on: "You need to marry again. You are not cut out to be alone. You need someone to keep you in order and to lift you out of your moods. And you deserve to be loved. And Timmy needs a mother. He cannot be all by himself with you being out so much."

Patrick's eyes had gotten wet and the words he wanted to say threatened to remain stuck in his throat. He loved Marianne dearly. He shook his head. "I know what you are trying to say but I cannot think about replacing you, not now and not anytime in the future," he whispered.

"Patrick, I am serious", Marianne said. "I know it will be difficult, but please promise me that you will open your heart again. If not for your sake, then for Timothy's. I do not want either of you to be alone."

Patrick knew she was right about Timothy. With himself being away for most of the day as well as during evenings and nights, the boy needed someone around. But Patrick felt as if his heart was about to be dying along with Marianne. How could he ever think about getting married again when the woman he loved more than anyone else would soon be gone?

In early December, Mrs. Parker temporarily moved in with the Turners. Marianne now was asleep or unconscious most of the time and Patrick and Mrs. Parker did not want her to be alone at any time. She still lay in her bed in her and Patrick's bedroom. Most nights, Patrick was hardly able to sleep. He listened to Marianne's breath, anxiously waiting for any sign of either improvement or deterioration of her condition. Granny Parker had offered to stay with Marianne so he could have a calm night and rest but he declined. He could not bear to leave Marianne when he knew that she would soon be gone forever.

One night, Patrick returned from a call and when he was about to get into his bed, he noticed that Marianne was awake, watching him. "I thought you were asleep," he whispered affectionately, sitting down at the edge of her side of the bed, carefully taking her hand into both of his.

Marianne smiled a tired smile. "I tried to remember how many times you came home late. I must have slept most times. I should have been there for you more often."

Patrick swallowed hard. "Don't say that, dear. I never expected this. I think it is enough that one of us lacks sleep constantly." He paused, holding his breath. "And you have always been there for me, love," he added, swallowing back his tears.

After another pause, he continued: "Marianne, I never told you about the war. About… what I … what happened –."

"Patrick, don't," Marianne interrupted him weakly. "I know that terrible things happened to you."

Patrick looked at her surprised and Marianne continued: "I have never known anyone so well as I know you, Patrick Turner. There are things you needn't tell me. And I think it is best you do not stir certain things up, things that may hurt. Let bygones be bygones. You need to look forward, not backwards."

Patrick bent down and kissed her carefully before resting his head lightly on Marianne's chest for a while. When he sat up again he noticed that she was slowly drifting off to sleep. He sat next to her for some time, trying to remember as many details about her face as he could. The small triangular-shaped scar left of her chin where her sister had once hit her with a toy. The few freckles on her nose, now faded (and never to be darkened by the sun anymore). The shape of her mouth and the neat curl of her eyelashes both of which Timothy had inherited.

One week before Christmas, Barbara and Ted Horringer visited the Turners. They knew of Marianne's illness and next to Patrick and Mrs. Parker, Barbara was the only person Marianne had disclosed the entirety of her inner feelings about her diagnosis in her frequent letters.

Barbara felt she was prepared but when she saw her friend barely conscious, frail, thin and unable to move, she could not stop crying. She sat with Marianne for a long time and kept returning every other day until her family's departure to New York on January 2nd.

During the Horringers' first visit, Ted sat with Patrick. Not only did he feel sad about losing a friend, Ted felt even more sorry for Patrick. He worried, being the only person fully aware of Patrick's past breakdown. Even though Ted suspected that unlike ten years ago, Patrick would now want to carry on for Timothy's sake, he still was not certain how his friend would cope with grief once Marianne had passed.

Patrick felt a momentary comfort while sitting with Ted. He realized how much he missed a friend like Ted and enjoyed that although they had not seen each other in three years, it felt just like the old days.

Other than Marianne, Patrick had no close friend save Ted who no longer lived in London. Patrick was busy with his work and content to spent the little free time he had with his family. With Ted and his family gone, there was no one he felt particularly close. Marianne had been the one responsible to care for their social life. Friends they visited or had received were mostly Marianne's.

As for his social life, Patrick kept telling himself that he would write or make a call to the few acquaintances he had intended to stay in touch with later. Once he had settled in Poplar, once he had gotten married, once the baby was born, once the NHS was up and running… but now it was too late, he thought bitterly, now he did have no one left besides Ted with whom an ocean separated them.

When Ted left, he drew Patrick into a tight hug. "Turner, let me know if I can do anything. Anytime. And if you need to get out of Poplar, you are always welcome. I mean it." Barbara, too, reassured Patrick that he should visit whenever he liked if he felt a change of scenery might do him and Timothy any good.

Patrick nodded politely, knowing he would never take them up on their offer. How, he asked himself. He did not even know the costs for travelling to New York, but apart from these, he could never afford to take that much time away from his practice and Timothy needed to go to school.

For months, Patrick had been worrying about Timothy constantly. Not only because he did not know how to deal with the young boy's grief but also because he had no idea of how to care for his son once Marianne had died. Since he had to work frequently and at irregular hours, Timothy would have to stay by himself very often. Even though they had a housekeeper now, she was not hired for watching the boy and help him with his homework and also was only in for four days a week until noon.

Patrick had suggested that Timothy might move in with Granny Parker temporarily. "Patrick, as much as I like the idea," his mother-in-law had responded, "I do not think it would be right for Timothy. You can always send him over for a weekend or the holidays, but I think it is best that you two learn how to get along during your every day life as good as you can," she advised. "The boy is about to lose his mother. I do not think it wise to take him away from his friends and school."

Patrick knew that she was right. With his mother gone, Timothy's friends were probably the only people besides the immediate family offering both comfort and distraction. Patrick scolded himself internally. What a poor father he really was, just thinking about removing his boy from the environment he belonged to when this was one constant he needed.

Christmas 1956 at the Turner's was a sad affair. Patrick, Timothy and Mrs. Parker knew that it was their last Christmas with Marianne. They cried and held each other a lot, and spent time sitting with Marianne who was asleep or unconscious most of the time. Timothy could not even find any joy with the many gifts he received. He hardly looked at his new things. The only wish he had was that his Mummy should get better again – the only wish no one was able to grant him.

One evening in early January 1957, Patrick came home late from a case. When he entered the flat, Sister Evangelina emerged from his bedroom. She had stayed on to wait for Patrick and informed him that it would not be long now. Patrick nodded and went to sit with Marianne straight away. Mrs. Parker, who had sat at the bedside, silently crying, kissed her daughter on the cheek one last time and retreated, giving the couple privacy one last time.

In the early hours of January 4th, 1957, Marianne Turner died. Patrick was grateful that he was present and could say good-bye, even though Marianne did not regain consciousness. Once his wife had passed, he felt empty and not able to cry anymore, he felt as if he had cried all his tears in the weeks and months before. He also felt he had to be strong for Timothy. And then, he was a doctor. He had served in the war. He knew death in all his forms of appearance and he of all people should be able to cope with it.

One week later, Marianne's funeral was held at the local cemetery and many people attended, honouring Mrs. Turner and her contribution to community life. Everyone felt sad for their GP who stood at the grave, quiet and forlorn and his terrified little boy, who clung to his father's side, wide-eyed and unable to stop crying.

It was not too uncommon for children in Poplar to lose a parent. But usually, they had a large number of siblings and cousins around as well as several aunts, uncles and grandmothers whose presence helped to ease the pain of loss. Not Patrick and Timothy. They were by themselves now. Even though Mrs. Parker tried her best to support the two, she was not living close by. After the funeral, she stayed with the Turners for another two weeks but eventually decided that it was time Patrick and Timothy establish their own new routine.

The first months after Marianne's death were difficult for both father and son. Even though they loved each other very much, Marianne had been the lively force connecting them and they felt her absence painfully in every part of their lives. Timothy regularly spent time at his friends' and occasionally even at Nonnatus House, but most of the time, he was home without his father.

Patrick felt empty. As empty as he had felt when he had arrived at Northfield some 12 years ago. He had always loved his work. He still loved it but it had mainly become a means of burying himself in work so as to numb his pain as well as his guilty conscience towards his son.

At the same time, he was painfully aware how having Timothy now served to keep him sane. He dreadfully remembered his mental state at the time he had arrived at Northfield. If it were not for Timothy, he was afraid he might end up in a similar situation. Patrick felt very close to another breakdown, but he fought against losing the last of his sanity for his son's sake.

During the first painful weeks after Marianne was gone, when he was sitting alone in his quiet living room at night, Patrick more than once felt tempted to drown his sorrows in alcohol – but every time he was about to get up and pour himself a glass he remembered the many, many men he had encountered who were throwing away their lives through drinking and he could not do this to his son. He had a promise to keep and he now was all the boy had. He needed to collect himself and be strong.

During the first months after her death, Timothy slept in Marianne's bed. Patrick never told his son, but he felt great comfort in listening to Timothy breathing at night, as the boy was his only connection to Marianne. Patrick found it very difficult if not impossible to talk with his son about his grief. He had never been good at speaking about feelings and emotions and it always had taken Marianne great effort to get him to at least open up a tiny bit. He often felt like he needed to speak to Timothy but could not find the right words.

Marianne had been the one to remember all of Timothy's appointments. She knew when there was a Cubs outing or a school play to attend, when to buy new exercise books and which kind of pencils were requested by the art teacher. Patrick repeatedly found himself at a loss. More than once, Timothy expressed his anger at his father for having missed yet another school concert or forgotten to buy another part of his school uniform. Patrick felt sad because he felt that whatever he did for Timothy, it would never be enough.

Throughout the first year as widower and half-orphan, Patrick and Timothy eventually developed new routines and settled in their new situation – even though grief was still heavily haunting them and they often spoke about how much they missed Marianne.

As Patrick often came home late, Timothy one day suggested they postpone their dinner time to 8 pm, a time when Patrick often managed to be at home. Timothy would then wait for his father, already bathed and in his pyjamas. They would eat what the housekeeper had prepared or, on her days off, fish and chips or simple toast and beans, even at night. Afterwards, Timothy would go to bed and Patrick would clean the kitchen and do paperwork or read for a while.

Patrick dreaded the many firsts of this year; all the first times without Marianne. Timothy's first birthday, his ninth, without his mother. Their tenth anniversary without anything to celebrate. The first time Marianne would not be there to think up some surprises during the boy's summer holidays. Marianne's birthday without Marianne. The first Christmas without Marianne. Patrick dreaded these firsts but to his surprise found they managed much better than he expected.

Just before their first Christmas without Marianne, Sister Bernadette assured him about how resilient children could be and when he thought about their conversation again a few days later, Patrick noticed that she was right. His and Timothy's first Christmas without Marianne was sad, but they managed. Granny Parker was there as usual and they found that even though Marianne was gone and her absence was still an open wound, they were able to feel joy about presents and even laughed during playing a new board game Timothy had been given.

One year after Marianne's death, father and son were still grieving but they had managed to cope. They did for the first time what they would do every year afterwards: Visit Marianne's grave at the anniversary of her death. They would take some flowers and would talk about her, share their favourite memories with her and whatever they wanted her to know about the past year.

Still, both Turners felt sad and lonely most of the time. Little did they know that barely one year later, a woman Patrick had known for a long time - and whom he would begin to see with different eyes in the year following the anniversary of Marianne's death - would make them a truly happy family again.