Your words stole fear into my heart, a heart I could feel being torn into a hundred pieces. It was more than I could bear to see you lose faith in life, in yourself. At home, I kept you warm, tried to persuade you to eat hot, nourishing food.
Then the following day, in another attempt to help you, I drove to the animal shelter and spoke to Lea, who you used to work with. She came to see you. Tried to remind you how much difference you’d made to all the animals you’d cared for. But your self-criticism was brutal. Whatever you’d done, for as long as the suffering went on, it wasn’t enough.
It was as though everything was catching up with you. But instead of seeing it as a sign to step back, you refused to let it get the better of you. Instead, you became even more driven.
We might have been living together, but it was as though some weeks I barely saw you. Then early in 2023, that fateful day you were in the car accident. When I saw the wreckage of your car, I wasn’t sure how you’d survived. I’ll never forget that time. For a while, your life hung in the balance but you held on, came back; my precious girl with pale blue eyes, who saw more than most of us.
Your strength started to return. But you were still in pain when I took you home. I made nutritious food, made our home as comfortable as I could for you. I never knew how bad your pain was.
Having come so close to losing you, they were so precious, those days. But as you waited for your body to heal, it was as though you’d lost your fight.
‘If things happen for a reason, what was the point?’ You were referring to the accident. ‘Do you think I was meant to die?’ you asked me.
My reply: ‘No way, Lexie. You have a whole life ahead of you.’
I remember you frowning. ‘The thing is, it doesn’t feel like that.’
‘You’re still healing,’ I told you. Your body was traumatised from the accident; it seemed your mind was, too. I remember your eyes wide as you gazed at me.
‘I can’t imagine the future.’ But it was as though it had been taken away from you. ‘When I picture it, there’s a blank space.’
You’d always had a plan. The next in a long line of causes drawing you on, and I tried not to show how frightened I was. I knew how your mind worked, that you had a sixth sense that others didn’t. But I had to believe you’d get over this.
Over the weeks that followed, things escalated. I remember a day at the workshop when the door opened and you wandered in. You were in jeans and a T-shirt, and your eyes were lacklustre; you looked preoccupied.
‘Hey, Lexie,’ I called out to you, wondering what was on your mind.
‘Hey, gorgeous girl.’ Lucy went over and hugged you. ‘Am I pleased to see you. You’ve come in our hour of need.’
Your eyes glanced towards me. ‘Sorry. I can’t stay.’ You hesitated. ‘Mum? Do you have a minute?’
‘Of course.’ I smelled the alcohol on your breath as you came closer; alarm bells were going off. But then I looked around at all the flowers that needed arranging for the wedding. ‘Could it wait until this evening?’
A look I couldn’t read crossed your face. ‘Sure.’ You hunched your shoulders. ‘I’ll leave you to it. You’re obviously busy.’
I watched you walk out, frowning slightly as Lucy turned to me. ‘Something’s wrong.’
‘I was thinking the same.’ I was still watching you through the open door as you made your way down the street. But even before the accident, something seemed wrong in your life.
Lucy was silent. ‘Maybe she’s just preoccupied about something. Hopefully she’ll come back.’
‘Maybe.’ But my mothering instincts were kicking in; suddenly, I felt guilty. ‘I should go after her.’ I was already taking off my apron. But outside, when I jogged down to the end of the road, there was no sign of you.
I took my phone out of my pocket and called you. But it went straight to voicemail.
‘Hey. It’s Lexie. Leave me a message.’
I tried you again. The same thing happened. And I didn’t.
If only I’d persevered. Called you again. Walked further along the street, then back the other way until I’d found you. Sent you a message, followed by another and another, until you answered.
Mum
Lexie, it’s Mum. Call me.
Whatever was on your mind, I would have listened, Lexie. The flowers would have waited. Who in their right mind rates flowers above their child? Yes, we had a wedding on, but I could have taken some time out, worked into the evening, if that’s what it took.
It’s my biggest regret that you needed me that day, but I wasn’t there for you. You never did tell me what it was on your mind. And if only you had, things might have been different.
