Holding on to Forever

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas

Once again thank you for the support, I do appreciate it and it is encouraging when you haven't written anything for a while to get support.

As always I'm happy to have feedback on on improvements I can make, especially any technical differences between UK and USA.

Timings for updates with not be consistent. I am writing this as I can and it is difficult to write, and therapeutic, due to personal experience. Please be patient with me.

. . .

Sarah swung the door open and Derek followed, "Hey Mom, we're home," she called.

"In the kitchen" their Mom chorused back.

Derek dropped his bag by the door, something smelt good, it was obvious his Mom was cooking. He paused, everything felt so right, yet his mind was screaming it's all wrong. This was home, no matter how long ago he left, it was still home. They had been through it all here, together, as a family. The good and the bad. Heading along the hallway towards the kitchen, Derek's attention was caught by the photos his Mom had mounted. Some made him smile, others cringe, seriously that hair!

"Hey Mama," he greeted her as she pulled him into a hug, he held onto her tight, planting a kiss on her head, "Something smells good!"

"Well, figure I have to feed you up when I get the chance," Fran replied as she turned away, "Good honest Irish Stew, just like my Mama use to make. It was your Pop's favourite."

"And mine," Derek added.

"You two always had a lot in common," she giggled, "You may be a Mama's Boy but you're definitely your father's son."

"You wouldn't have me any other way," Derek beamed, stepping forward to envelope her into another hug. Holding her tight, breathing deeply trying to memorise the feel, the smell, the moment. "I love you Mom."

"And I love you."

. . .

Derek bought the last of the peach cobbler through and placed it in the fridge. Hos sisters were busy clearing the kitchen. Leaning against the bench Derek watched them both. Everything was so normal, yet so strained. They all avoiding the conversation that none of them wanted to have.

As if she could read his mind Sarah turned to him and said, "It's no good she doesn't want to talk about it right now."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Doesn't make it go away Sarah. We need to know what we're doing, what to expect, what she wants."

Des placed the towel down on the side and walked towards him "She's adamant she can fight it." As she reached him she flopped onto Derek's chest and let his arms wrap around her, "but what if she can't?'' she sobbed.

Derek held Des tight, letting her cry, wishing he could do the same right now. He noticed Sarah turn away. He could see her reflection in the window, he watched her struggled, but knew she wouldn't accept him right now.

. . .

Derek stumbled through, blurry eyed, the next morning, still in his grey track pants. He'd slept remarkably deep in his old single bed. Exhaustion had knocked him out cold. Automatically he started to prep coffee, as soon as he got to the kitchen. He hadn't even noticed his Mom at the table. Rubbing his hands over his head and stretching he sighed, heavy and deep.

"When you first joined the PD I'd often find you skulking round the coffee pot when you had a rough shift. This time I don't need to ask what the problem is though," Fran sighed, "I hate that I'm causing all this pain."

Derek spun round to face her, "Mom," he whispered.

Fran's head dipped for a moment, only to bob back up with a fixed smile. "I plan to fight this every step of the way. I'm not ready to roll over and play dead yet."

Derek slid into the chair opposite her, slumping down hard. He reached across the table and took her hand. "Mom, I'm worried."

"I can tell," Fran said as she squeezed his hand, "Don't be. We'll work it out."

Derek snorted, "I like you optamisum."

"I have to be optimistic, it's all I have left."

They sat in silence for a moment. Holding hands and watching, waiting for the other to say something.

Derek's brow furrowed as his mind raced with the things he wanted to say. He pulled his hands away briefly as he ran them over his head and sighed, before cupping his mother's hands in his. "I love you Mama."

"I know you do, and that there is one of three good reasons I have to keep going as long as I can." Fran flipped her hands out, placing them on top of Derek's, "I love all three of you very much. I cannot make promises to you, other then I intend to do everything I can to . . ." Her head dropped as her voice faded.

"I don't get it," Derek blurted out, "You look fine. You said there was nothing to worry about. It was just routine checks after you chest infection last year."

Fran squeezed a little tighter, "When I got ill last year, the chest infection, they found a shadow on my lung. They thought it was from the infection, so had been keeping an eye on it, treating it to get it to disperse. They weren't worried, so I wasn't, so I didn't worry you and your sisters with it. It hadn't got bigger, but it hadn't got smaller either over the months, so this year they decided to do a biopsy, just a precautionary check. . ."

"You should have told us. We're a family . . . we do things together," Derek tried to curb the anger that was edging into his voice. "Why did the doctors leave it so long? How did we not know this was happening? That this was cancer?"

"Baby, I'm lucky. Many people don't know they have lung cancer until it is too late. It can be completely symptomless. If I hadn't of had that chest infection they would not have been monitoring the shadow and it would be too late for treatment."

"Treatment that won't cure!" Derek stood and stormed over to the counter, slamming a fist down, "Damn, why didn't they biopsy sooner? If you had told us we could have paid for tests?"

Fran moved over to stand behind her son, the tension clear in his taut shoulders. "The treatment won't cure, I'm a lifer, but if it is successful it will keep me going. A bit of discomfort is a small price to pay. They didn't biopsy sooner because they weren't worried. The shadow wasn't growing, small cell lung cancer is usually quick to spread. It wasn't."

Derek turned round and hugged his mom. "So what do we do now?"

"We fight."