Mum's List

by St. John Greene

  I kissed Kate’s forehead, then her small hands. Cancer had sapped the moisture from her skin and stripped the sheen from her nails. It had helped itself to bags and bags of Kate’s energy and left bucketloads of sickness, nausea and tiredness as its calling card. It couldn’t steal Kate’s spirit, I thought. It could never take the spark from her eyes or the fire from her belly. It could never take away the hope in her heart.

  “Egypt can wait,” I whispered. “The most important thing is to get you well. We can rebook it when you’re better, and we’ll have something fantastic to look forward to.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “You’re right, Singe. There’d be no point in going anyway if I couldn’t even snorkel with the boys.”

  Her pale lips curled into a soft smile, and I knew she was imagining that great moment when Reef and Finn would swim among the fish and the coral in the Red Sea. Her eyes glimmered, like fluorescent strip lights flickering into life, then flooding the room with light.

  We’d looked forward to this trip so much. Both boys could snorkel by the age of two, and they were swimming by the time they were three. I’d lost count of the number of times we’d said: “I can’t wait for them to snorkel in the Red Sea.”

  Reef and Finn would be completely bowled over by the sight of the tropical fish and the sea creatures and anemones, and Kate and I couldn’t wait to share the experience with them. It was a dream I tried to keep alive for month after month throughout Kate’s treatment, when first her mastectomy and then her chemotherapy and radiation forced us to cancel.

  When we eventually booked up the holidays to Florida and Lapland later in 2009 I thought we’d turned a corner, and I told her Egypt would be next on the list, because I firmly believed it would be. “We’ll go in the New Year,” I said. I wasn’t saying it just to try and cheer her up; I had absolutely no doubt in my mind.

  “We’ll finally get there in 2010,” I told Kate. “You’ll see, it’ll be worth the wait.”

  “I know,” she said. “Let’s hope so.”

  Eventually, as time ticked by, Kate started to just say “Fingers crossed” whenever I mentioned it. I thought she was being cautious, to avoid the disappointment of canceling the holiday yet again, but now I can see that she must have feared long before I did that she might never make it.

  I will never forget the forlorn look on her face when she wrote on her list: “Go to Egypt and snorkel in the Red Sea.” We’d been working on the list well into the early hours by that point, and she was very weak and tired. It must have been agonizing for her to write those words. I could almost feel her pain and disappointment hanging off the page.

  “Of course we will,” I said. My words stuck in my throat, and I began to cry.

  Those words, Kate’s instruction to me, said that I had a future, and Kate didn’t. All she could plan was her death, while I had my life with the boys stretching before me. I couldn’t quite believe it, because I didn’t want to believe it. Until then the word we always meant me and Kate, or me, Kate and the boys. Now we was going to mean just me, Reef and Finn. “Of course we will, and we’ll think of you when we do.”

  Kate cried. “Hold me,” she said, and I took her in my arms. She was her smallest ever, a fragile shell of herself. She sobbed and apologized and told me to promise her the three of us would have the most wonderful time.

  “We will,” I said, choking on the words and still not quite believing what I was saying. I would believe it when it happened, I thought, in case it never had to happen that way. Even with Kate on her deathbed, I clung to hope.

  * * *

  I had the same choked-up feeling in my throat when our flight took off for Egypt just before Christmas 2010. I was surrounded by members of my family, who’d made the trip as promised, and Reef and Finn were incredibly excited, which was good to see. It was just as well they had to wear safety belts, I thought, or they’d be bouncing up and down on the plane all the way there.

  It was a relief to finally be jetting off, ticking off something huge on Kate’s list, and I was very glad to be escaping the prospect of a cold, dark Christmas at home. Despite all the positives, I couldn’t fight off sad thoughts, though. I really thought Kate would recover and be beside me on this holiday. Even when she put Egypt on her list, I still held on to a thread of hope, as crazy as that now seemed.

  Now there was no hope. This was the reality, and even though I felt like crying I told myself to get a grip, keep my promise to Kate and have a fantastic time with the boys.

  “Will we get bitten by a shark?” Finn asked.

  “No, you’re not tasty enough,” I told him.

  If Kate were there she would have rolled her eyes and told me off for being silly. Then she would no doubt have relayed the story to my family about how I told her all the sharks were sleeping on that night dive we did in the Maldives, when she crash-landed on top of that white tip and scared the living daylights out of it.

  “Don’t listen to Daddy,” she’d have told the boys. “He’s just a teaser.”

  In actual fact, a tourist had been killed in a shark attack in the Red Sea a few weeks earlier, and several divers had been hurt. There was a swimming ban still in place, and I was very worried we wouldn’t be allowed to snorkel, which would defeat the whole object of the holiday.

  “Daddy, what if we can’t swim in the sea?” Reef asked. He’d heard the adults talking.

  “Not much gets past you, does it, Reef?” I teased. “Seriously, don’t worry about things that might not happen.”

  “But what if?” he said.

  “Reef, we’ll just have to wait and see. Whatever happens we’ll have a good time. We won’t let it spoil the holiday.”

  He nodded, not looking too convinced.

  “Now then, what shall we do?” I continued. “How about a few jokes?”

  Both boys pricked up their ears. Finn had won a joke competition organized by the cabin crew on our flight to Lapland and fancies himself as a bit of a comedian.

  “Knock knock,” I said.

  “Who’s there?” the boys replied in unison.

  “Boo hoo.”

  “Boo hoo who?”

  “Don’t cry, it’s Christmas!”

  Reef and Finn killed themselves laughing as they passed the joke on and began telling a string of their own. I was laughing too. It was holiday time now, and I was slowly beginning to relax. I was very grateful to have so many family members all around me. Being in a large group created a constant backdrop of bustle and busyness, which was just what I needed.

  It was quite chaotic getting everybody from the airport to the hotel in Sharm El Sheikh, then checking in and arranging when to meet for dinner. The boys were beside themselves when they spotted room service menus.

  “Can we order pizzas?” Finn asked.

  “Oooh, and lots of puddings!” Reef drooled.

  “No, you can’t!” I said.

  “Pleeease, Daddy,” they begged.

  “No, you can’t,” I replied. “We don’t need it, we’re going out to eat. Now, stop nagging!”

  The boys’ bickering and chatter was nonstop. There was no time for me to think, let alone get sad, and that was a blessing, I suppose.

  Preparing for the trip had been a real eye-opener about just how much Kate did for us. I always considered myself a hands-on dad, but Kate was the one who ultimately organized everything, double-checked arrangements and made sure we all had what we needed. On holiday she was always like Mary Poppins with her magic bag, producing wet wipes, snacks, Band-Aids or coloring books effortlessly on demand. Even when she was ill she somehow managed to keep all the plates spinning, in every part of her life, and she always had whatever the boys needed to hand.

  Over the previous few weeks I’d been flat out buying Christmas presents and sun cream, sorting out dog care, exch
anging money and packing the suitcases. That was on top of trying to run the house and keep my work and school governor duties running smoothly. There was so much to do I actually wondered if I’d get through it.

  One night I was so tired I could barely bring myself to unpack the boys’ school bags, but I was so glad I did. Inside Reef’s was the first official school photo of the two brothers posing confidently together in their neat red sweaters. “Would like school photos bought every year.” Kate would have adored it, and I immediately filled in the slip, ordering several copies.

  The photo brought things back into focus for me. I felt some of my stress evaporate as I looked at it, because it told me why I’d been running around like a headless chicken these past few weeks. It was a joy and a privilege to be a dad, even if it was bloody exhausting too.

  When we finally unpacked and settled into our hotel I felt exhausted but fulfilled. We’d made it at last, and it felt like a massive achievement. The boys, of course, were raring to go, and I knew that however tired I felt I had to “do a Kate” and keep the show on the road as best I could.

  “When are we snorkeling in the sea?” Finn asked.

  He was so excited he was jumping up and down on the spot.

  “As soon as you’ve done some good practice in the swimming pool, Diddy,” I answered. “Or should I call you Tigger?”

  “When are we seeing the pyramids?” Reef asked. “Will we see a mummy?”

  “No, silly, Mummy isn’t here,” Finn said, clearly not intending to make a joke.

  Reef cracked up laughing. “I mean an Egyptian mummy, ones wrapped up in bandages!” he roared.

  I had to laugh; it was either that or burst into tears of despair.

  It was a few days into the holiday before we were finally ready to venture into the Red Sea for our long-awaited snorkeling experience in the reef. Thankfully, the shark scare had passed, and there were no swimming restrictions. Nothing was standing in our way now, and I didn’t want any sorrow to spoil the moment either.

  “Enjoy it,” I told myself. “Enjoy the moment, you can’t repeat it.”

  My brother, Matt, offered to come with me to help, as I’d decided to take a taxi to a beautiful nature reserve, which was a little bit of a trek away. Reef and Finn nicknamed our taxi driver “Mario” after their favorite Mario Kart character on their DS games, and we all had a giggle as we traveled along the hot desert road. On the way we passed Dreams Beach, where Kate and I stayed when we brought the boys to Egypt when they were very small. It was Christmas then, too, and I wanted to say: “Look, remember that?” but I stopped myself, because I was the only one among us who would remember.

  Instead I thought of my and Kate’s favorite saying: “If you’re not living on the edge you’re a waste of space,” and I put my energies into getting the boys’ adrenaline pumping as we pulled up at the nature reserve. I told them all about the types of fish they might see and asked them to look out for the funny clownfish that Mummy liked to tease.

  “This is going to blow your socks off!” I said. “You won’t believe your eyes! Let the adventure begin!”

  The boys, who were already excited, really rose to the occasion and were brimming with anticipation, which made me double my efforts to make this an overwhelmingly happy experience.

  I smiled, but I had to take a deep breath as I helped the boys pull on their wet suits, masks and snorkels. Kate would have done this job, and I would have taken photos, capturing the delighted look on her face as she did so. Now I was doing both jobs, feeling like a one-man production line as I got the boys equipped and ready to pose in turn for a picture. “I didn’t know you could multitask,” Kate teased. Her voice was so distant it sounded ghost-like in my head.

  I looked up at the sky. It was dense blue. If she ever was on a cloud, she wasn’t there now. There wasn’t a whisper of cloud in the entire sky. Kate had gone, and I was going to enjoy this moment with the boys without her, in her memory. I was very glad Matt had come with me. He was a great moral support, and he also agreed to have Reef on his back while I took Finn, as it was too soon after the shark attacks for me to feel comfortable letting them swim alone. Matt’s a big six-foot lifeguard, and the boys adore him, so it couldn’t have worked out better.

  Watching Reef dip expectantly into the Red Sea on Matt’s back was heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once. I could feel Finn’s grip tighten around my neck as we entered the water too moments later. It was cold after being in the hot taxi, and both boys squealed and wriggled.

  I was delighted to spot angelfish and clownfish swimming toward us almost immediately. Kate adored both of those types of fish, and they were a welcome, familiar sight. That said, it was also like seeing them for the first time, because I was sharing the boys’ excitement at this new experience. I loved it.

  A blue-spotted stingray, a Picasso Triggerfish and some parrot fish darted in and out of the pink, blue and green coral. It was breathtakingly beautiful, but the big excitement came when the boys spotted regal tangs and yellow tangs like the ones we have in the tank at home, named Dory and Bubbles after the characters in Finding Nemo. Finn was wriggling like a little fish himself he was so excited, and I could see Reef drinking in the moving spectacle, eyes everywhere.

  The grand finale was seeing several large shoals of fusiliers turn from dazzling blue to sunshine yellow right before our eyes, an amazing stunt they pull to confuse predators. It was magical, and I didn’t want the show to end, but I couldn’t wait to hear what the boys had to say either.

  When we eventually headed back to the shallows and took off our masks, both Reef and Finn throwing out questions excitedly. “Can we get firefish and damsons for our tank? Can we get a tank that makes the fish look like that? How do the yellow ones turn blue? Is it magic?” I could feel both their little hearts beating wildly as I helped them out of their gear and answered their questions. Their eyes were glistening and twinkling in the sun, but Reef suddenly went quiet.

  “Why did some people walk on the corals?” he asked solemnly.

  “Well, either they don’t know any better, or they are just very careless and selfish,” I said.

  “They’ll hurt them,” he said, looking very upset. “I don’t want the corals to get hurt. They might die.”

  I gave him a hug. Reef was wise beyond his years at times, and I was moved that he had such respect for living things. I couldn’t be sad at a time like this, though. It was an overwhelmingly wonderful event in the boys’ life, and I didn’t want Reef to focus on hurt and dying.

  “Mummy was always very protective over the coral,” I told him. “You’re a little star, just like she was. She’d be very glad you care so much.”

  “Thank you, Daddy,” Reef said, giving me a brave smile.

  Driving back, we had a different taxi driver, who turned out to be the brother-in-law of the one who’d brought us to the reef.

  “It’s not Mario!” Finn said, disappointed.

  “Must be Luigi,” Reef joked, and Matt and I burst out laughing before politely trying to explain to the driver how the boys love to race Mario against Luigi on their DS games.

  I talked to Matt about how I couldn’t wait to go scuba diving with the boys one day, when they were both old enough to be fully trained. Reef had already had a few lessons in my friend Ken’s swimming pool back home. He was only five years old the first time he tried it and was the youngest person I had ever taught. He went down eight feet with a cylinder on his back, and gave big, triumphant “OK” hand signals underwater, which was a real achievement at such a young age.

  “Bet you can’t wait to have a go,” Matt said to Finn.

  “Done it already!” Finn bragged, and I explained how, not to be outdone, Finn had swapped his snorkel for a regulator and tank that day. He floated on the surface, pretending to dive too, while Kate fell about laughing on the
side of the pool.

  “Typical Finn!” Matt said, and he was right.

  It was a funny memory, but I also remember that Kate had a few tears on the poolside that day too. I thought it was because she had wanted to give Reef his first dive lesson, but wasn’t able to go in the water because she still had tubes sticking out of her arms. Now, I thought, there was probably more to it than that. She could see what she would be missing, if the worst happened. Or maybe she actually sensed or knew the worst was going to happen, but I truly hope not, not six months before her death.

  * * *

  By Christmas Day all thirteen members of our party had arrived in Egypt. We all chipped in to hire a private boat from one of the dive centers at Na’ama Bay. To our delight, the boat was absolutely massive and included a crew and instructors, all for just £40 a head. We were all in a good mood as we headed for Tiran Island, catching a huge tuna on the way, which was cooked for us and served in a delicious hot salad for lunch. I really enjoyed myself and managed to unwind.

  It didn’t really feel like Christmas Day, but that was a blessing. Santa visited the boys, of course, and all the family and friends swapped presents, but it felt pretty much like any other day of the holiday really. There was precious little time to think, let alone dwell on Christmases past.

  On Boxing Day I helped the boys practice snorkeling in the swimming pool and then swam a hundred lengths in another delicioiusly cold pool, trying to improve my fitness and lose a bit of weight. It was a daily routine I established on the holiday, while other members of the family kept an eye on Reef and Finn for me.

  It was a bit tough in the evenings at times, to be honest. Some of the younger ones in our group went out to clubs and bars, which I’d have loved to do but couldn’t because of the boys. Had Kate been there I’d have been very happy to stay at the hotel and have a quiet drink in the bar, but it wasn’t like that now, and the holiday provided a sharp reminder of the difficulties of being a single parent.