A True Friend

A True Friend

I could swear she knew they weren't going to find a donor, she had
some disease of the liver or something. It was killing her though,
slowly. She wasn't expected to live six months without the operation,
there was no way she could have known. She knew the statistics; "two
out of every three patients make a full recovery". She was the one of
the three that didn't.
There was this one time I will always remember though, we were up on
Fly Away Hill, that was what we called it, don't know what it was
really called. But there is a 360 view up there. It folds away into a
valley and this ridge just goes on, like, forever.
It was just the two of us up there, and we seemed to be talking about
everything but her. When suddenly she said:
" I need you to promise me something."
"What"
" I want my ashes scattered up here."
I just nodded; there was nothing more to say.
"I can die happy now though&;#8230;"
I didn't even bother telling her she wasn't going to die, she knew she
was. But I had hardly imagined her dying happy, she was a
fighter.
" You can't be happy to die."
"It doesn't matter either way, not really, its just that now it feels
like I've seen everything."
She was speaking so calmly, as if it was all so simple.
Then I realised I loved her, with everything I was and more. And then
I knew that she loved me just as strongly and she wasn't supposed to
see the end of the year. It all seemed to hit me at once and yet skim
over the surface. Nothing wonderfully dramatic happened, we didn't rush
into each other's arms and swear our undying love. But for once I
didn't curse the wind that stole my breath and sent her hair streaming
back over her shoulders because right then I felt complete, I had
everything I ever needed: Open space, Sky and Jemma, most of all
Jemma.
But of course night drew in and although we did sit and marvel at the
constellations for a while we had to leave. When I look back over the
next six months it always reminds me of a set of dominoes; lined up on
end so that when one topples it takes the next with it. That's how the
days, the weeks and gradually the months that lead to Jemma's decline
passed and once it had started it only got worse and faster, it always
got faster.
I went to her funeral and every thing, scattered her ashes on Fly Away
Hill just like I promised her, and it was the hardest thing I have ever
done. It felt as though I was throwing Jemma from me when all I wanted
to do was hold her close. But somehow I knew there was another part of
her, that wasn't solid, that I could never scatter but would always be
near.
But that night lying in bed unable to sleep, I looked forward, but
there seemed no future now, no point in growing up now that Jemma never
would.
But of course I did, I had no choice and my life carried on. I have
grown up, got a job, married a lovely woman that I met a couple of
years ago; we have even had kids.
But I lost a part of myself to Jemma atop Fly Away Hill there is some
part of my fourteen year old self, forever.
Up there I also left memorial stone, to Jemma, it reads; " JEMMA
FARNELL, aged 14, A True Friend"