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Running out of time

My perfect day was tinged with sadness...


Published by: Jessica Gibb
Published on: 15 September 2011

There was only one word that sprang to mind as I looked across the waters of Loch Morlich, surrounded by heather-covered mountains. Perfect.
Peaceful, beautiful and romantic, it was exactly what I'd been looking for.
‘This is it, the perfect place to get married,' I whispered to my fiance Ian, 29. ‘Mum will love it.'
‘She will,' he agreed, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. ‘Guess we'd better go home and tell her.'
I couldn't wait to see her face! It was important to us that she loved our wedding venue as much as we did - after all, she'd been the inspiration behind our engagement two years earlier.
Back then, she'd just beaten breast cancer after a lumpectomy and chemo. One day, Ian and me had been strolling along a local beach when he'd pulled a solitaire diamond ring from his back pocket.
‘Your mum has made me realise life is too short,' he'd explained. ‘Will you marry me?'
‘Yes,' I'd wept.
My mum Liz, 50, had been the first person we'd told. And now the wedding was taking shape, she'd be the first person to share that news with, too.
‘We're planning for next December,' I revealed. ‘And you should see where it's taking place - it's so lovely!'
‘That's wonderful,' Mum smiled.
‘Are you okay?' I frowned. ‘Why do you keep rubbing your side, Mum?'
‘My tummy's a bit painful,' she shrugged. ‘I'll call the doctor now.'
She went off to phone him, came back a few minutes later.
‘He says it's probably gall stones,' she said. ‘I'll have to go into hospital.'
‘Okay, I'll come with you.'
‘Great idea,' Mum smiled. ‘You can tell me about this wedding!'
When we arrived, they decided to keep Mum in for a couple of days while they did scans and blood tests.
Three days later, the doctor had news.
‘I'm so very sorry,' he said. ‘The cancer's back. It's spread to your liver.'
Mum's eyes filled with tears, but she brushed them aside. ‘What do we do?' she asked,determinedly.
‘We can manage it with chemotherapy for months, possibly years,' he explained. ‘But we can't get rid of it completely.'
My mind reeled in confusion. ‘Are you saying this is terminal?'
‘Yes,' he nodded sadly. ‘Chemo will only prolong your life.'
Mum still hadn't uttered a word. It was only when we got to the car that she shook her head as if waking up.
‘There's so much I want to do...' she croaked, taking my hand. ‘Oh, your wedding,' she said, fingering my engagement ring.
But what was the point in finding the perfect man and the perfect setting for the wedding if Mum couldn't be there?
When we got home, we sat down my dad Charlie, 57, brothers Peter, 26, and Andrew, 22, and my sister Joy, 27, and broke the news to them.
That night, I wept in Ian's arms. ‘Hey, how about we have the wedding this December?' he suggested, wiping away my tears.
‘But that's only seven weeks away!' I gasped.
‘So?' he shrugged.
For the first time in hours, a small smile crept on to my face. Next day, we went to see Mum.
‘We're bringing the wedding forward,' I smiled.
Her eyes widened. ‘Don't make a fuss over me,' she smiled.
‘You're my mum, and I want you at my wedding!' I insisted.
In between Mum's chemo appointments, we booked a registrar to marry us at the loch, and designed invitations. Mum even helped me choose my wedding dress on eBay.
‘That one's beautiful,' she pointed at the computer screen.
‘You're right,' I smiled, clicking through pictures of the stunning red and white dress.
But four weeks before the wedding, Mum's blood tests came back abnormal. She was admitted to hospital, and seemed to sleep more and more. I was scared, I'll admit it. And with good reason.
‘I'm so sorry,' the doctor said. ‘You've just days left to live.'
I burst out crying. Mum was so tired, she could barely make a sound.
Running outside, I sobbed in Ian's arms. ‘Sh-she won't even see us get married.'
‘Maybe we can have the wedding here?' he suggested.
A ward nurse said we could use the family room, a converted stable used for the families of long-term patients. ‘Perfect!' I smiled.
We arranged the wedding for the following Tuesday - just four days time. When Mum woke up, I told her the news.
‘If you can't come to the wedding, we'll bring the wedding to you,' I promised.
The next couple of days flew by while we sorted out a registrar and told the guests. Then a three-tier chocolate, vanilla and lemon cake was donated to the hospital. ‘You could have it as a wedding cake,' the ward nurse suggested. People were so kind.
On the day, I was a bundle of emotions as I got ready in the family room. Suddenly, the phone rang - it was a nurse.
‘We have to do it now, in the ward,' she said urgently. Mum didn't have long left.
‘Okay,' I trembled. Dad came in, his eyes red from crying.
‘Ready?' he smiled bravely. I nodded and took his arm.
At the ward, I walked up the aisle of beds as traditional Scottish music played. Mum was sitting on a chair wearing a blue dress, and dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
Summoning all her strength, she managed to do the reading she'd chosen. ‘To keep your marriage brimming with love, whenever you're wrong, admit it... and whenever you're right, shut up,' she read slowly. The guests - just our immediate family - laughed.
Afterwards, we ran back down the ward under a flurry of confetti and applause from the patients.
Mum was exhausted, so she got back into bed.
‘It's your time to look after Carol now,' she murmured sleepily to Ian. We kissed her goodbye with lumps in our throats, as she closed her eyes and drifted into unconsciousness.
That night, as we had drinks with our family, everyone was thinking of Mum.
First thing in the morning, I was back at her side. ‘I love you so much,' I whispered to her.
The next day, Mum died.
Words can't describe the mixture of emotions I felt - sadness that she'd gone, relief that the pain was over for her.
Everyone wore bright colours to her cremation. I wore a red jumper, a tribute to the wedding dress she'd helped me choose.
My wedding might not have been what I'd planned it would be, but it was perfect - because my mum was there. 
Carol Murdoch, 29, Edinburgh