Of course Nathan’s half-brother thought it was a good idea. He had no idea. He probably wouldn’t even rush to get down here, having not witnessed how things had deteriorated so drastically.
‘But he has never expressed any wish to go to a hospice. He’s been happy here. I don’t think the disruption will be good for him.’ Emma couldn’t voice the real reason she wanted him to stay at the hospital for his final hours. The doctors thought his dream was caused by his illness, and they would be unlikely see it the same way Emma did.
The real reason she didn’t want him moved was because a hospice wasn’t part of the dream. Even though she should be doing everything in her power to make sure the dream didn’t occur, she was also aware that if the end was how he expected it to be, then somehow it would provide comfort for him. Nathan was barely lucid, but she wanted to keep whatever parts of what she knew he had believed in to be true to form. It was stupid, she realised that. It hardly made the dream psychic if she augmented life to fit in with what he’d dreamed. But surely there would be comfort in familiarity. If it happened how he’d always thought it would, wouldn’t that be a less stressful way for him to go?
Heartbreakingly, Nathan was too out of it to give his opinion. When Emma said his name, he would turn his head towards her voice and flutter his eyes open briefly, but that was it. When she held his hands, his skin was rough and every part of him seemed frailer. It was only a few weeks since his diagnosis and it was terrifying how quickly he was wilting away.
Emma spent portions of time wishing she was able to make it go away. She smoothed moisturiser into his hands to make them feel less sore. She rubbed Vaseline onto his lips when they started to crack and she held his drink to his mouth when he was unable to lift it himself. Day by day he was inching further away from the place they had been. He was inching further away from life.
‘It really is the best place for him. You’ll be free to visit whenever you choose there.’
Emma was having to spend the nights at home, struggling to sleep. She was leaving reluctantly when visiting hours ended, not wanting to be away from Nathan’s side. She didn’t want him to be alone when he went. Knowing it was his biggest fear, it was important to Emma that it never happened that way. She’d vowed to ensure it didn’t.
‘Why don’t you take the night to think about it? Maybe you’ll feel differently in the morning.’
It was one way for her opinion to be shrugged off, but to be honest, she was so tired and so incapable of reasonable thought that she was no longer sure what was for the best.
Coming home to her mother had never been nicer than in the past few weeks. With her mum’s care provided for it no longer felt like she was returning to work. These days it was often the case that she went home to unburden.
Carole had already been put in bed by the evening carer. There was a chance she would be asleep, but Emma slipped into the front room to check on her, as she always did. On the nights her mother was still awake, she’d fill her in on what was happening. It allowed a good old blub away from Nathan if she needed it.
‘How are things?’ Carole asked, before she was fully through the door.
‘Not good.’
‘How so?’ Her mother moved in her bed so she was able to listen more intently to her daughter.
‘They want to transfer him to a hospice.’
‘Oh, sweetheart. They think that’s necessary already?’
Emma slumped down into a chair, finding that she was way too exhausted to stay upright any longer.
‘He really is just fading away. I think he said my name about three times today. That was it.’
‘Do you think the move to the hospice is a good thing?’
That was the thing about mums. Sometimes it wasn’t necessary to vocalise what was wrong because they’d already sussed it out.
‘I don’t know, Mum. This is going to sound silly, but he always said that in his dream he died in a hospital room. I know that it’s all make-believe, but I can’t help but think it would be more comforting if at least some elements of the dream came true.’
‘But is a hospice room much different to a hospital room? Would he even know the difference?’
Emma shrugged. She’d never been to a hospice to know what their rooms were like. ‘So you think I should agree? His brother already has.’
‘I think, right now, you need to choose your battles. I’m not sure this is one of them.’ Carole reached for her daughter’s hand and Emma took hold of the gesture.
The weight of everything made her take in the biggest sigh. ‘It just doesn’t seem right that it’s ending this way.’ Despite the dream, despite everything in it, Nathan’s life was being extinguished so quickly. It was impossible to think that such a bright light could be dulled in this way.
‘I know what you mean, love. Nathan is something else. I can see why you’ve fallen for him.’
Emma well and truly had. She’d never been one for talking about destiny before. For her, destiny had only ever existed in the pages of the books that she’d read. Until Nathan. He’d bundled into her life so quickly, just when she needed him, and the unjustness of him leaving as fast was almost too much to bear. ‘I’m not ready for him to go.’ A sob made her pause. ‘Not yet.’
‘I don’t think we can ever prepare ourselves for these things. Especially with someone so young and with so much life. But we have to look to the positive. Wherever possible, you and I need to look for the positive.’
‘What can possibly be positive right now?’
In the darkness, Emma’s mother shifted her weight, rustling the sheets. ‘Maybe you could make sure the hospice room reminds Nathan of all the things he loves. You could put pictures up and play the music he likes.’
‘It just seems so…’ Emma didn’t want to use the word lame. Her mum was doing her best to be helpful and come up with ideas. ‘So inadequate. He was so much more than he is now. I wish we could take him out on one last skydive. It might finish him off, but seeing as the dream is nonsense, I’m sure he’d prefer something like that.’
‘Why don’t you then?’
‘What?’
‘Take him on one last flight. If you decide to, I’ll help. That boy has given more to me and you than some of our nearest and dearest. The least he deserves is that we try and give some of that back. He did it for me. I’m sure we could do it for him.’
Her mother was right. He’d given them their happy moments. He’d sought to arrange for as many people as possible their everlasting act. The very least Emma could try and do in return was give him something he would enjoy.
A happy ending was nowhere in sight, but Emma was going to do whatever she could to make Nathan’s exit one with his own signature style.
Fifty-Three
Day Ninety-Nine
Staying positive was always more of a challenge when faced with naysayers left, right, and centre. Emma hadn’t had to ask Nathan’s colleagues twice; they were all too happy to help. This wasn’t even going to be undercover. It wasn’t for a skydive, as Emma had semi-hoped it might be, but even she could see that a man who was practically unconscious most of the time was not a suitable candidate to hurtle through the air. Instead it had been agreed that Nathan would be allowed one last flight. That even if he couldn’t jump out the door of the plane, he could be allowed to travel on the ambulance stretcher and at least feel the rush of the wind against his face one final time.
It was the doctors she was struggling to get the sign-off from, and she was losing her patience with them. ‘What possible harm is it going to do when he is going to die anyway?’ Emma didn’t care how loud her voice got. She was pretty certain anyone hearing the conversation would go ahead and back her.
‘It’s not a case of whether it’s the right or wrong thing to do. It’s whether we can provide the staff to go with you. I’m not sure we’ll get authorised for something like this when it’s not standard practice.’
‘I’ll go,’ one of the more juni
or doctors volunteered. ‘I can do it in my own time if it’s to do with funding.’
‘I’ll go, too.’ It was the male student – the one who hadn’t remembered Nathan’s name when he’d first been diagnosed. ‘I’ll go with Nathan.’
Hallelujah, Emma said in her head. Maybe there was hope if there were still people willing to carry out acts of kindness just when they were needed.
After those first kind gestures, others followed in quick succession. More people volunteered their efforts to assist. Transport was booked and the drivers were more than happy to make an unscheduled stop on the way to the hospice, the doctors volunteering to stay on to finish their work later that day.
When they arrived at the skydiving facility, every member of staff lined up on either side of the door through the building all the way to the plane. It was like a guard of honour, and Emma had to stop a while to compose herself. Although maybe now the time had come to allow herself to cry in front of Nathan. She was as sure as she could be that he wouldn’t mind.
Tim and Leanne were the first to greet them, and it was evident in their expressions how shocking the change in Nathan was. Each of his friends greeted him – the ones Emma knew from her mother’s skydive and others she’d not met before. They all spoke to Nathan as he passed by on his bed, and it kind of reminded Emma of a funeral in reverse. Nathan was getting to hear words telling him he was the greatest of friends, the funniest person, the bravest of souls, all of which might otherwise have been said only once he was gone. With any luck these sweet footnotes of his life were going in.
The hospital volunteers were pushing the trolley, and after each friend had said their piece, they joined in helping deliver the stretcher towards the waiting plane. The image was so reminiscent of pall-bearers reverently carrying a coffin that Emma had to stop and place a hand over her own mouth to prevent herself from wailing.
It was such a contrast, seeing him here. Catching a glimpse of Nathan on the stretcher was like peering at a different life completely. It seemed nigh on impossible that this was the man who only weeks before had taken her mum skydiving and organised Rudi’s indoor jump. The shock in seeing the difference was etched on the faces of all the people there. And Emma was unravelling, no longer sure if she was strong enough to do this.
It was Leanne who came to her rescue. ‘My darling girl, thank you so much for bringing him home to say goodbye. You have no idea how much this means to him and us.’ Leanne held up a tissue and wiped Emma’s tears away like they were lifelong friends. Hopefully they would be. ‘Now go and be with him.’
Emma took a breath. Right now wasn’t the time for it all to get too much. She needed to be with him. Maybe Leanne was right; maybe for Nathan this was home, at least spiritually if nothing else. His place was always going to be in the sky, because that’s where his heart belonged.
Loading the stretcher onto the plane took some manoeuvring, but there were enough people about to make light work of it. The trolley in place, it left room for very few people. There needed to be a medical personnel, according to bureaucracy, and Tim for safety reasons. After that, there was only room for Emma. She wasn’t about to let her emotions stop her from taking that spot.
In the plane’s cabin, they’d placed Nathan so that he’d have the best view, not that his eyes were open. Tim and the doctor who’d volunteered their time to be there sat further back, allowing Emma and Nathan some time and some space.
As the plane started moving along the runway, Emma decided to talk to Nathan like no one else was there. It was as intimate a moment as she was likely to get with him again.
‘I don’t know if you realise this, but you’ve been a little bit of magic in my life,’ she whispered. How hard it was to find the things she wanted to say. ‘Scrap that, not a little bit, a great big bit of magic in my life. I think you’ve been that piece of magic for a lot of people. You have a way of making people feel alive. You’ve made me feel alive.’
The plane was starting its ascent now, tilting off the ground and beginning its diagonal push towards the hazy white clouds – a knitted jumper letting patches of blue show through.
‘What I’m trying to say is even though it may feel like it, don’t ever think that you’ve left this life too early. You’ve had more impact in your twenty-seven years than most people will have in their entire lifetimes. And I’ll make sure to do whatever I can to make sure that continues.’
Nathan stroked her fingers. It was more of a response than she’d had for several days, and she knew she would treasure it forever. Half of her willed there to be more, but it was obvious that he was using all his energy to breathe.
‘I just want you to know how glad I am that you came into my life. I’m not sure what road lies ahead for me, but I promise you I will do my best to fight. I will do my best to get another twenty-seven years – at least – and embrace them with the gusto you’ve taught me to have.’
They were up in the clouds now, the plane levelling off as Tim allowed the side door to open. Below, the great expanse of the Salisbury Plain provided views of flat green and yellow fields for miles. If only Nathan were able to appreciate it as much as Emma. She took it all in for a moment… The sound of the gushing wind, the blueness of the skies, the stillness of the earth from this height.
Nathan’s eyes were flickering as the wind beat against him. What a sensation it was. Hopefully he would know that, in the same way he’d done everything to ensure her happiness, she was doing the same for him in the only way she knew how: by bringing him here.
It was quite the experience to be so high up with the air pushing its way into every quarter of the hold. She’d never been so exposed. ‘You never know. I might end up doing a skydive to raise that money. I think perhaps I could be brave enough for it after all.’
The patchy green fields below them with dots for buildings didn’t seem so frightening once she was up here. In fact, the temptation to take up a thrill-seeking hobby was quite understandable from this viewpoint.
The wind was tousling Nathan’s hair, but the occasional eye flicker soon faded to nothing. And she wasn’t sure if it was from being open to the elements, but Nathan’s hand was growing cooler to the touch.
‘I love you,’ she said, realising before anyone else that this was her last chance to say it.
Nathan offered the slightest squeeze of her hand. She was sure it was real and not imagined.
But then she knew that was it. That the tiny gesture had been the last ounce of energy he had to give.
For a while, Emma remained there in that moment. There was still warmth in his hand, even though she knew he was gone. She wasn’t ready to let go, but if the soul was a real thing she needed the door to remain open for a touch longer. If this was the last jump, Nathan’s soul needed time to set sail.
There was a beauty in the sky at that moment. It was a bright blue with fluffy white clouds like the type a child would draw. It sang of the start of springtime, of new beginnings, of hope. It was a time for change.
Emma wasn’t ready, but then she never would be. Nobody was able to choose this moment and find they would ever be okay with it. But as things went, it seemed an okay way for it to happen.
It wasn’t a hospital room. It wasn’t where he’d dreamed, for his whole life, about this happening. But it was better than that. It was the place he would call home. His soul would rest easy here. He was finally free.
Nathan
Isn’t it the saddest thing that some words will never reach a page? That I can’t let you know what’s happened to me?
My name is Nathan Foxdale. I will die aged twenty-seven. I have known it all my life. But I never expected you, Emma. I never knew love would exist in my life. How I wish I could talk with you now.
It’s really hard to have known when I would die with utmost certainty, only for the dream to not be what I thought.
Interpretation can be a funny thing.
Hospital room… I am ill.
Strugglin
g to breathe… I am dying.
A baby crying… I am a father?
I have lived with these keystones for so long they have become my perceptions of them. And yet here I am again. Although this is not the dream but the reality.
Hospital room… I am being born.
Struggling to breathe… My mother is dying.
A baby crying… My mother is dead. I’m crying for my mother.
Because the dream has never been the end. The dream has always been the beginning. I had twenty-seven years to live. I’ve lived every hour well. Make sure you do the same.
I’ll be waiting for you.
Epilogue
GoFundMe on behalf of Everlasting Acts
I, Emma Green, made a promise to Nathan Foxdale, the founder of the Everlasting Acts charity. I vowed that if I lived past the age of twenty-seven, I would be brave.
In the short time we knew each other, Nathan taught me everything I know about living life to the fullest. On 26 March 2023, I plan to do my first tandem jump. I wish with all my heart that he could be the instructor I will be strapped to as I fall through the air, but I’m pretty sure I’ll find him on my way down. I think our daughter believes I will.
Any donations will be going towards the charity he helped set up. His very own Everlasting Act.
Nathan’s Diary
Emma
Touchdown. Is that the technical term for it? The moment your feet hit the ground and you become one with the earth again.
I thought it would be soaring through the air that would make me think of you. All of the times you jumped from a plane, and here I am knowing I will only do it once. For all the parts it is made up of, landing was the bit I enjoyed most… Coming home.
I haven’t read this diary of yours. Some things are meant to be private, but I hope that writing in it becomes like a wired connection to wherever you are. There are so many things I would like to tell you. Everything from the glorious to the mundane.
99 Days With You Page 21