by Cathy Glass
As Michael straightened and moved away from the bed I leant forward and kissed Pat’s forehead. ‘Bye, love,’ I said. ‘You’re in our thoughts. Michael is fine, so please don’t worry. Just rest and get the sleep you need.’
‘I’m fine,’ Michael repeated. We stood by the bed for a minute longer and then Michael gave his dad another kiss on the cheek and we came away.
Later, I wished I’d told Pat how much he really meant to me, and shared the happy memories of the good times we’d had together. But then life is full of ‘if only’s’. What was more important was that Michael had spent quality time with his father and had shared all his news.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Stars Glow Brightly
When we arrived home Mum had made dinner and we ate outside, making the most of the glorious weather. It was after seven o’clock when my parents finally said goodbye and we waved them off at the front door. After they’d gone I began the children’s bath and bedtime routine, ready for school and nursery the following day. With only a few weeks left before the end of the summer term the schools were doing fun things and Michael was looking forward to their pupil-versus-staff cricket match the following day, which he’d explained was a school tradition. He said it was great fun to watch the priests running around and trying to play cricket in their cassocks. ‘I’ll have to remember to tell Dad the score when I see him,’ Michael added brightly.
But later, when I went into Michael’s bedroom to say good-night, I found him looking very sad. He had said his prayers and was in bed. Immediately I knew he needed to talk.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked gently, hovering by the bed.
His face crumpled and he burst into tears. ‘Cathy, soon I won’t be able to tell my dad about school or cricket or anything, ever again. It’s not fair. Most kids my age have two parents; soon I won’t have any.’
I st on the bed and took him in my arms. I held him close as he cried openly. There was little I could say or do to minimize his pain. Michael was right: of course it wasn’t fair he and his dad would soon be parted; but I wasn’t about to offer unrealistic hope and tell him his dad would get better. I stroked Michael’s head and tried to soothe him as best I could as he buried his face in my shoulder and wept. Michael had been so brave for so long and now all his sorrow, frustration and anger were finally being released, possibly as a result of seeing his father in the hospice that afternoon. I knew how he felt – I was close to tears myself. I held him and rocked him gently until finally his tears began to subside and he asked for a tissue so that he could blow his nose. I sat holding him a while longer; then I heard Adrian call me.
‘Will you be all right for a moment while I see what Adrian wants?’ I asked.
Michael nodded and snuggled down into his bed where he curled on to his side.
I went into Adrian’s bedroom; he was sitting up in bed looking very worried, having heard Michael crying.
‘Michael’s all right, now,’ I reassured him. ‘He’s going to get some sleep soon.’
Adrian nodded but didn’t look convinced. ‘Will he see his dad again tomorrow?’
‘Yes. I’ll take him after school. You don’t mind if Helen comes to look after you and Paula again, do you?’
‘No.’
I kissed Adrian goodnight, checked on Paula, who was asleep, and then returned to Michael’s room. He was as I’d left him, curled foetally on his side. His eyes were open and he was gazing towards the window. The curtains were open as he liked them and the night sky could be seen, dark and clear.
‘The stars are very bright tonight,’ he said quietly as I sat on the bed.
‘Yes, they are. It’s a clear night.’
‘They’re burning bright for my daddy,’ he said. It was a quaint thing for a child to say but I knew how much comfort Michael drew from seeing the stars, just as his father did. ‘One is glowing brighter than all the others,’ Michael added. ‘That’s my mummy waiting for my daddy.’
I stayed with Michael, sitting on his bed and quietly stroking his forehead, until his eyes slowly closed and he drifted into sleep. I then crept from his bedroom and checked on Paula and Adrian, who were asleep, before going downstairs. I made a mug of tea and took it through to the sitting room, where I wrote up my fostering log notes, including our visit to the hospice that afternoon. Then I wrote a note to remind me to phone Jill in the morning to ask her to arrange for Helen to sit with Adrian and Paula on Monday evening while I took Michael to see his father. I switched on the television, adjusted the sound to low, and watched a film while listening out for any sound of Michael. If he woke I didn’t want him crying alone in the dark. I checked on him at ten o’clock and eleven o’clock and he was asleep. It was after midnight by the time I finally put Toscha out for her run and went upstairs to bed. I slept and woke when the alarm went off at 6.15, but later, when I found out what had happened, I felt guilty for sleeping so soundly.
Having showered and dressed, I woke Paula and Adrian and told them it was time to get dressed, ready for nursery and school. When I went into Michael’s room he was already awake and standing by the window in his pyjamas.
‘Oh, you’re up,’ I said, surprised. ‘I was coming to wake you. It’s time to get dressed. Are you all right, love?’
‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll get dressed now.’
When he came down for breakfast Michael was subdued but not visibly upset. Adrian and Paula were always quieter on Monday mornings, finding it a jolt to get back into the routine of school after a relaxing weekend. Michael began eating and then stopped and looked at me thoughtfully. ‘Cathy, this morning, before you came into my room, I heard my dad. It was so real. He said, “Michael, it’s time to get dressed. We can’t be keeping the priests waiting.” That’s what he always says – every morning – when I have to go to school. It was like he was in the room. That’s why I was up when you came in.’
Adrian looked at me questioningly, while Paula said to Michael, ‘Your daddy is in hospital. He isn’t here.’
I smiled at Michael as I spoke, for clearly he had taken comfort from hearing his father’s voice. ‘Sometimes, when we are very close to someone, we can still feel their presence – their warmth and love – even though they are not actually with us.’
Michael nodded. ‘It was a nice feeling, just like he was close by.’
Adrian and Paula seemed satisfied with my explanation and all three children continued eating their breakfasts.
Once they’d finished they went upstairs to brush their teeth while I cleared the breakfast dishes from the table. I was about to start rinsing them through when the phone rang. I went into the hall to answer it, vaguely wondering who could be phoning me at 7.45 a.m. on a weekday.
‘Hello?’ I said, half-expecting to hear a friend’s voice asking for a last-minute favour: to take their child to school.
It was a friend, but not one asking for a favour.
‘Cathy, it’s Colleen.’
I felt a tingle of fear run up my spine. ‘Hello, Colleen,’ I said evenly.
There was a small pause before she said, ‘Cathy, a nurse from St John’s has just phoned. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but Pat passed away in his sleep last night.’
My eyes immediately filled and I felt cold all over. This was the phone call I had known would come eventually but it didn’t make it any easier.
‘Will you tell Michael, please?’ Colleen said, her voice shaking. ‘Tell him his daddy died peacefully in his sleep. He’s at rest now.’
‘I’ll tell him,’ I managed to say. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
‘Give Michael our love,’ Colleen said, in tears. ‘Could he phone me later when he feels up to it? God bless you all.’
Replacing the receiver, I wiped my hand over my eyes and began slowly up the stairs. The children had finished in the bathroom and now appeared on the landing.
‘Who was on the phone?’ Adrian asked innocently.
I looked at Michael. ‘
I’m sorry, love,’ I began, going up to him. ‘That was Colleen.’ I didn’t have to say any more
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Michael said, his face crumpling. ‘I knew when I heard him this morning.’
I enfolded him in my arms as he wept. Adrian and Paula stood close, either side of me; I held Michael and we all cried openly. Usually, I try to be brave for the children, but at that moment our grief was raw and overpowering, as only the news of a death can be. ‘He died peacefully in his sleep,’ I emphasized as my tears fell. ‘Daddy is at rest now.’
I held Michael and kept Adrian and Paula close; huddled together in a small group on the landing we all cried, oblivious to the time or the routine we should have been following.
‘My daddy is with my mummy now,’ Michael said through his tears.
‘Yes, he is, love. They’re together now.’
We cried and cried until our tears were spent. We would cry again but for now I knew I had to take control and think what I needed to do. With the children close beside me we went downstairs and into the sitting room.
‘Are we going to school?’ Paula asked. ‘No, love, not today.’
Then I wondered if Adrian and Paula would be better off at school and nursery and wanted to go, but when I asked them they said they wanted to stay at home and help look after Michael. They sat on the sofa with Michael between them; Paula held Michael’s hand while Adrian linked his arm. I think Michael drew comfort from having them close, for they seemed to instinctively know what to say and do. I remembered Adrian’s reassurance: that because he and Paula had lost their father (through divorce) they were better able to understand how Michael felt when he was sad, and it was true.
At 9.00 I knew Jill would be in her office and I asked the children if they would be all right staying in the sitting room while I went into the hall to make a few phone calls. I didn’t want to use the phone in the sitting room, as it would be upsetting for Michael to have to listen to me keep telling other people that his father had died. The children nodded and I told them to call me if they needed me; then I went down the hall and phoned Jill.
She knew from my tone and that I was phoning when I should have been doing the school run that something was wrong. I held my voice steady as I said that Patrick had died peacefully in his sleep. While the news wasn’t a shock to Jill, as Patrick had been ill for a long time, she was obviously very sympathetic and asked how we all were, especially Michael. She asked if I needed any help and I said I didn’t think so today, as we would all be at home, grieving. She said if I did need help to phone her straight away. She also said she would notify Stella of Patrick’s death as soon as she was in the office and would phone me later.
It was now nearly 9.30 and I phoned Adrian’s school and then Paula’s nursery and told the secretaries that the children wouldn’t be going to school today as a close family friend had died. I didn’t elaborate on who it was – it wasn’t relevant, as they didn’t know the reason I was fostering Michael. However, when I phoned Michael’s school it was very different, of course. I told the school secretary Michael’s father had died during the night, and knowing Michael and Patrick personally she was upset. She said she’d inform the head straight away. I said I didn’t know when Michael would be returning to school but I would phone her when I did. I then telephoned my parents and told them; they were obviously upset and asked me to give Michael their love and tell him he was in their thoughts. I was finding that each time I told someone of Patrick’s death although I had a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes it was becoming very slightly easier to say the words, as I slowly adjusted to the fact that dear, dear Patrick was no longer with us and was now at rest.
I returned to the sitting room, where the children were as I’d left them – in a row on the sofa. They were snuggled close together, quiet but not crying. Paula was lightly rubbing Michael’s hand as I did hers sometimes when she was unhappy. I told them I had phoned their schools, and then I asked Michael if he would like to speak to Colleen. He said he would, so I suggested to Adrian and Paula that they found something to do while Michael talked to Colleen on the phone. They went into the conservatory where the toys were. I dialled Colleen’s number and once she was on the line I passed the phone to Michael. I sat next to him on the sofa as he said quietly, ‘Hello, Auntie Colleen. How are you?’
I obviously couldn’t hear what Colleen was saying, but it was clear Michael took comfort from her words, as she reassured him and asked how he was feeling. When they’d finished Colleen asked to speak to me. Michael passed me the phone and then, standing, slowly crossed the room and joined Adrian and Paula in the conservatory.
‘He’s such a brave little chap,’ Colleen said.
I agreed wholeheartedly. ‘Yes, he is.’
Colleen then told me that she and Jack would be organizing the funeral and would let me know the day and time once they had seen the undertaker later in the day. She said it would be a cremation, in line with Pat’s wishes, and the priest from their church – the Sacred Heart – would be conducting the service. Colleen said she’d informed Nora and Jack of Patrick’s death and was trying to contact Patrick’s only relative, his aunt, who was living in Wales. She finished by thanking me for all I was doing for Michael and said she’d phone again later.
I replaced the receiver and, standing, crossed the room to where I could see the children in the conservatory-cum-playroom. They were sitting on the floor in a small circle around the many pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Although Michael wasn’t joining in, but watching Adrian and Paula, he was at least occupied and not crying. I watched him a while longer and then moved away, not really sure what I should be doing. When you receive the news of a death, after the shock and grief you reach a sort of numb plateau, where you return to the practicalities of living which surround you. Checking on the children again, I wandered into the kitchen and continued washing up the breakfast dishes, which I’d begun when Colleen had phoned.
The phone rang again just after ten o’clock and it was Father Murphy from Michael’s school. He asked how Michael was and then asked if he could visit him later today – after school today, at about four o’clock, he said. I said yes, although to be honest I didn’t really feel I had the option of saying no, as he seemed to assume he would be coming. When I told Michael that Father Murphy would be visiting later he nodded, as though his visit was an expected formality, and then returned to the jigsaw puzzle, which he was now helping to do.
Stella phoned half an hour later, having just received the news of Patrick’s death. She sounded very sad, having got to know Patrick well in the time she’d been working with him. She asked how Michael was and I said he was being very brave, although he was obviously upset. She said she wouldn’t speak to him right now but to give him her love and that I should phone her if we needed any support. Later in the morning my parents phoned and offered to come over and help, which was kind of them, but there really wasn’t much they could do. I reassured Mum we were coping and also told her we had the priest visiting later; Mum said she would phone again but obviously to call her if we needed any help. In fact the morning disappeared in phone calls with offers of support and help. I’d just finished speaking to Mum when Nora telephoned. She and Jack both spoke to Michael and then Nora told me to phone her if we needed anything. Everyone was being so kind and thoughtful; it was very comforting.
At one o’clock I made a sandwich lunch and called the children to the table. None of us had much of an appetite, but we ate a little, albeit without our usual chatter, and when I offered the children an ice cream they quietly accepted. I explained to Adrian and Paula that when the priest came later we would go into another room so that Michael could spend time alone with Father Murphy. Paula, despite seeing the priests regularly at Michael’s school when we took and collected Michael, still found the priests unsettling, I think because their full-length cassocks created the appearance of them gliding – ‘like ghosts’, Paula said. She now asked Michael: ‘Will you
be all right alone with a priest?’
Michael nodded and I reassured Paula that Michael would be fine and that the priest would be able to comfort Michael spiritually – in a way I could not.
‘Well, if you need rescuing shout for us,’ Paula said very seriously. And despite our grief we had to laugh, Michael the loudest. It was the first laughter of the day and it was a release.
When the doorbell rang just after four o’clock, signalling the priest’s arrival, Paula fled upstairs to her bedroom, quickly followed by Adrian, so that when I showed Father Murphy into the sitting room Michael was sitting by himself on the sofa, looking very lonely.
‘Hello, Father,’ Michael said respectfully, immediately standing.
‘It’s all right, lad,’ the priest said kindly. ‘Sit yourself down.’
Father Murphy went over and sat on the sofa next to Michael and I asked him if he wanted something to drink, but he didn’t. ‘I’ll leave the two of you alone, then,’ I said, and the priest nodded.
Pulling the sitting-room door to I went upstairs, where I found Adrian and Paula hiding on the landing, wanting a glimpse of the priest but not wanting to be seen. ‘Honestly! Look at you two!’ I said, not best pleased. ‘Fancy running off and leaving Michael alone like that! Goodns knows what Father Murphy thought. He’s a priest, not an ogre.’ But Paula didn’t look convinced.
Father Murphy was with Michael for nearly an hour and I stayed upstairs with the children and occupied myself by tidying the children’s clothes in their wardrobes. When I heard the sitting-room door open I went downstairs, followed by Adrian and Paula. Michael and the priest were in the hall and Michael was actually smiling.
‘Michael would like to go to school tomorrow,’ Father Murphy said to me. ‘I think you should let him.’