Piove sempre sul bagnato

That evening a few of my workmates kindly drive my aunt and I down to Kingston Hospital to visit my mum. I find her giving the nurses a hard time, telling them what treatment she’ll have and what treatment she won’t. She does have a point though as she has probably spent more time on a ward than most of them put together, and that’s only when she was a child.
The following day, another visit thanks again to a lift from my workmates. I’m starting to feel that I’m imposing on them, and I stress my concerns. They assure me that its no big deal, and they’re more than happy to help out. As the weeks progressed their generosity and compassion never failed to amaze me, nor would I ever take them for granted. At the hospital, my mother and I attempt to chat a while, but she had a difficult night and her health has not improved.
The following morning my aunt receives a phone call. It’s a doctor asking us to attend the hospital in the first instance. Francesca urges me to go with my aunt but I have an appointment with a member of the Strategic Management Team, and a representative from the Police Federation immediately after that. I had planned to visit the hospital straight after the meetings, the 65 bus to Kingston passing the police station where I would be.
The reception in the office is uplifting. Most of my workmates are present, and we chat and eat the cakes I brought for about half an hour before the first meeting. Just as I’m about to sit down with Chief Inspector Morgan for the first appointment I receive a phone call on my cell. It’s my aunt, she’s crying. Slowly she tells me that my mum has just died, that her heart had given out. I collapse into my chair with my head in my hands. I cannot hold the tears back. I sob into my phone that I’ll come down right away, and then end the call. An overwhelming feeling of betrayal and loss surges up from my stomach. I should have been there with her, to hold her hand and to comfort her in the last moments. Instead I had put the police first. Then I tried to rationalise, I had believed that my mother was indestructible, she had to be. How could someone who had been ill so many times before in their life die now, at this moment in time, when I needed them the most? I turn to the Chief Inspector, compose myself, and tell him the news. He puts his arm on my shoulder and offers words of comfort and condolence. He then goes to find my Detective Inspector. The Chief Inspector returns a couple of minutes later with a shocked DI Leonard and DS Robinson (Robbo). They offer their condolences and then go to find a driver to take me down to the hospital.
The trip to the hospital is surreal. As the scenery races by I find myself questioning what has happened in these two short months. I’m in denial, this shit can’t be happening! I call Francesca, and she starts to cry. She tells me that she’ll leave the girls with a friend and make her way down as soon as possible. I tell her that DI Leonard and Robbo have arranged for a couple of officers to collect her shortly.

I meet my aunt at my mother’s bedside. As we stand by the bed, she tells me her last words and that she went peacefully. I sit down and cry as I gently take her lifeless hand. Francesca arrives moments later. She breaks down upon entering the ward. We hold each other a while and sit next to the bed. Francesca tells me that two of my workmates had volunteered to baby-sit until we got back. The kids are in very safe hands. After some time Francesca and my aunt leave me with my mother so I can pay my last respects. I sit for a long time holding her already cold hand whilst reflecting upon the good times we spent together, the occasions I had held that hand before, when it was warm and full of life. I kiss her forehead softly, apologise, tell her I love her, and leave…

Happier days; from left to right, my aunt Ann, Francesca, and my Mum.