I Will Be There

The line went dead; the call had been curt and to the point. “Sue you are not welcome at Ann’s funeral; please stay away.” But it was not unexpected; her family had always disapproved of our relationship in general and of me in particular. They regarded me as an evil influence who had led Ann astray from a properly ordered life into a world of shame and decadence. As result they rarely came to our home and so Ann would go to see them. I thought back three days when I was sitting by her bedside and holding her hand at the hospice when they came in. They gave me a venomous look and I knew they would dearly have loved to order me out but they had no authority to do so. They sat down as well but they ignored me. After a few mins I could not take it any longer; I got up and to their horror kissed her on the forehead.

“Ann I’ll pop back very soon” and left the room. I went back to the car and sat down to read my book. Luckily, I could see the entrance very easily and so kept a watchful eye for them leaving; then I saw them but they were visibly distressed and crying. I feared the worst. I hurried back to the room and saw the nurse by the bed; she looked at me.

“I am very sorry.” I nodded.

“May I have a couple of mins please?”

“Yes of course.” She slipped away. I sat down by the bed to prepare to say goodbye; I knew I would always regret not being there when she passed away.

My mind came abruptly back to the present; there was no way I was not attending but the question was how to do it. Then I phoned my dear friend Tom; he lived in the next street and was married to Steve and I felt sure he would have the answer. Ten mins later I was sitting in his front room sipping a mug of tea. Tom smiled as he gestured towards a large box on the floor.

“That has the props for my theatre group.” He rummaged around inside.

“Here; put on this wig and these plain glass spectacles.” I did as he suggested and went over to the mirror; I gasped in delight.

“That’s amazing; my dear old mum wouldn’t know me.”

“OK,” he said. “I have a false beard and more glasses and we’ll go as Mr and Mrs Mills who knew her from U3A. And I’ll do the talking just in case they recognise your voice but it’s bound to fool them.” And it did.

Two weeks later we were sitting at the back of the church. Tom had introduced us as planned and they hadn’t given me a second glance. I have to admit the service was very nice and a lovely tribute, as far as it went. But of course, as I expected, I was not even mentioned. Despite having lived with Ann for 25 years I had been airbrushed out of her life; it was as if I had never existed. It was very upsetting. Tom somehow sensed my mood and squeezed my hand.

“You’re doing fine,” he whispered. Then as is the norm, we all trooped slowly out and respectfully filed past her family standing by the way out. They gave us their automatic smile.

“Thank you for coming,” they intoned.

“I am so pleased to have been here; it was a lovely service,” I said. Then with a flourish I pulled off my wig and glasses. They were pleasingly outraged.

How dare you,” her sister shrieked.

“She was part of my life,” I said. “And whether you like it or not, she always will be.” I paused.

“When I got your call, I thought come what may, I will be there. And here I am.” We went outside into the sunlight but then it was all too much and I began to cry. Tom hugged me and then gently dried my eyes.

“You did well; really well.” He smiled. “Come on Mrs Mills, let me take you home.”

 

by Tony Roberts