Thank you again, universe. Thank you.
We stopped a little way from the water, giving a huge sweep of a view, and Logan knelt at her side, taking her hand as they both looked out at the skyline.
I was beyond choked up as I watched them there, resting tight together. The tears were streaming down my cheeks in silence, honoured to see that closeness between two human souls.
I kept my distance, watching them manage to share their words, and I had no desire to intrude. Not even for a second. This time was theirs. This time would always be theirs.
I just wanted to it capture for Logan.
I took one single photo of them from behind, heads resting together as they spoke with the blue of the ocean as a backdrop, crying so hard I could hardly see. Jackie’s head was shrouded in a bright red fluffy hat, and Logan’s was bare, his alopecia the stunning pattern I’d come to know so well.
I snapped the picture.
A gorgeous memory for that gorgeous man.
And then, once again, I stepped away.
They were talking a few minutes before Logan looked in my direction and beckoned me over. I stepped up and this time I didn’t even try to hide my tears, just knelt down on the other side of Jackie’s chair and took her other hand in mine.
She was awake, even though it must have been hard as hell to stay conscious, managing to summon the last of her energy for this last incredible journey. I realised with a whole fresh pang, right there and then, just how much I was in awe of that woman and her beautiful strength.
“I’m ready to put my toes in the sea,” she whispered, and there was a tear running down her cheek that took my breath. “Let’s get another tick on the wall.”
“Let’s go,” Logan said, and my awe doubled to see him so steady in his pain as he prepared his mum for the final few paces.
We took off our shoes and cast them onto the sand, and I helped Jackie up from her chair along with Logan. We supported her, holding her weight through every step she took. Her eyes were on the sea, resolve insanely firm to walk her own path, even so close to her last goodbye.
I never ever wanted that walk to end.
I’d have spent the rest of eternity walking across that beach for her.
The sand was cold and damp between my toes. The waves gave a beautiful crash before us, a rhythm as timeless as the universe itself.
Thank you, universe.
I’d always loved the seaside. I loved building sandcastles and enjoying ice creams on the rocks, and trying to spot jellyfish in the sand. But it was nothing like loving the seaside as much as I loved it with Jackie Hall’s arm in mine.
She let out a happy little gasp as the first wave met our feet, toes curling into the sand. Her eyes were every bit as magical as I’d ever seen them, the life shining bright from her smile.
She laughed. And that was magical too.
“Feels even better than I remember,” she said. “Fucking hell, it feels good.”
I closed my eyes to soak in the feeling myself, and she was right. Just like always, she was right. It sure felt fucking good.
“Thank you,” I told her, and she turned her face to mine. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
The life was still shining bright when she answered me with a squeeze of her hand.
“Thank you for being here, sweetheart. Means the world to me.”
Logan was quiet, supporting his mum like steel, his solemn gaze every bit as deep as the water on the horizon. I only wished I could hear the song of his soul and help his pain.
We walked Jackie a little way forward still, until the waves were around our ankles.
“More,” she said, reminding me of me.
We helped her on. And it was crazy good to be in the splashes, water soaking our clothes up to our knees.
Again, I never wanted the sensation to end.
Jackie was still staring at the horizon when her legs started to buckle. She gritted her teeth and tried to stay on her feet, but her fight was done.
We carried her back between us, fastening her back into her chair while her head lolled limp to the side. Exhausted.
She slept all the way home, pain muted by morphine, and I stayed quiet in the backseat, poised ready for any words Logan might want to say.
As always, he didn’t want to say many. Churning. Churning. Deep enough to feel it in my core.
How I wished I could help him.
How I wished I could be the steel of his support, even for one little day.
The road felt so much quicker on the way back, and we pulled up onto the driveway with the sun still bright outside.