The Bucket List

It all started when she was 8. That’s when she stopped ignoring the pain and the symptoms finally deciding to tell someone what was happening. It hurt, not the cancer, but the way she knew it hurt my family. Her mum, her dad, Russ. They weren’t ready. She wasn’t ready. But she didn’t think that was ever going to happen.

They’d thought it had gone; this was when she was 14. Grace could remember the moment when Dr Curran had told her; her mum cried. She remembered the older hand squeezing her own, as her eyes filled with tears. Dad smiled, and Russ well he was ecstatic to find out he wasn’t losing his baby sister.

That year was amazing; she was finally able to go back to her old life. Well almost. But it seemed like things were different, like people were wary of Grace. As though cancer was contagious and they thought talking to her would cause them to have it. Then again she understood what they must have felt. Not knowing what to say to the cancer patient.

Then it was that summer. The summer just gone that things had changed. It was her 17th birthday when things went downhill. Still remembering the shrill of the bell, as the doctor rang her, confirming what they were scared of.

The last random blood test had come back negative. It was back. She wound never forget their faces. But the one that hurt the most was Russ. Growing up he always looked out for her, made sure nothing could hurt her. Being the best big brother possible, and then it happened, something he couldn’t fix, something he couldn’t save Grace from.

Grace had never seen him cry before. Not even when it was first diagnosed. That’s why it stung so much, knowing that this was not only killing her, but killing the family bit by bit.

Grace decided to be selfish. Not wanting to fight anymore. Just wanting all the pain and suffering to end. Not just for her, but for her family to. And the only way for that to happen was for Grace to die, for her family to mourn. And then move on.

Grace didn’t want to die, she wanted to be able to go to college, get a nice job, a nice house, get married, and have kids. But she knew that’s not going to be able to happen. Not with the constant “what if’s” she has to live with, debating if she will actually wake up in the morning.

When she told her family this however, they didn’t have the same view. They wanted her to fight, to pull through this. To beat it all once again. But she just didn’t have the energy or the effort. Not wanting to be weak and lifeless wishing that she could kill herself before it killed her.

Grace hated them seeing her on the bed, weak and lifeless lying there, lips practically translucent, only wanting to shut her eyes and sleep for days.

Finally they accepted the idea, the one thing she had asked from them, though she knew it was killing them that they’re only daughter, their baby, had her days numbered that she might not be here next year but they were slowly growing to accept it.

Which, is why the idea to stay at Aunt Rissa’s was put forward. It was a new start, a place where she could enjoy the summer being a normal person in a town where no one knew her as cancer girl, waiting for Grace to pop my clogs.

Her mum was a nervous wreck the day she set off, Grace knew she was worried in case something happened and she wasn’t there. But she just put on a bright smile and gave her a hug and a kiss, making her promise she would stay in touch and stay brave for her. Dad was the same as her mum nervous but happy that she had this one get away.

Russ didn’t say anything, his eyes were red raw and he couldn’t look her in the eye; instead he looked over my shoulder biting his lip. Instead of saying anything to him, she just stepped forward, wrapping her two long, slim arms around his waist, pulling him close as she remembered the familiarity in his hugs.

“Bye, Russ” she whispered, voice croaking, releasing her arms and stepping away, hand grabbing for her bag before dragging it out the house and into the car, before getting in.

She sat there for a minute, taking a deep breath as she looked at her family, realizing that soon it wouldn’t be four plates set around the table but instead just three, a ghost sat there joining them for Sunday dinner.