Dream // Van McCann

37. I've Got Something for You

Sometimes things don't work out the way you want it to. Don't worry, Florence and I are still together but the right moment to propose never came. Not long after I picked up the ring, we saw a deterioration in her mum's health. She was rapidly getting weaker and caring for her in her own home became too much. The doctors said there was nothing they could do. They suggested hospice care. They didn't like the sound of it and were in denial that their mum was dying.

Florence was an emotional wreck. Despite not being close to her mum, she cared deeply about her and it was clear that she was afraid to lose her. Every night, she'd cry herself to sleep saying she should've reached out sooner. She was only able to reconnect with her mum for only half a year which wasn't enough time. And then the day finally came when her mum passed away in her sleep. The care team told her it was the best way to go. She was no longer in pain.

I remember driving her there. Florence was a blubbering mess and she broke down even more when she saw her mother's body on the bed, her skin porcelain white. Her eyes were closed and she looked like she was sleeping. The staff did a good job making sure she was presentable and then the funeral home took her body away. Florence pleaded with them to take good care of her.

It all happened quickly. One moment, we were mourning her death, and then we were looking for photos for her memorial service, picking out her casket, and buying the plot of land she'd be buried in. It was a nice cemetery on a stretch of well-maintained green grass on a hill. It was close to their home so they could visit any time they'd like.

Florence sat on the floor criss-crossed and sorted through her childhood photos. It's been ages since she looked at them and she'd tell me the story behind each photo.

"Would you look at this? It's my first birthday and I've got chocolate frosting all over my face!" She smiled but the smile didn't reach her eyes. She's done so much crying that her eyes lost the spark; her eyes were now a stormy blue, dull like she lost a part of her with her mum. It was strange seeing her like this. She's usually lively but now she's just a shell of what she used to be.

I grabbed the photo from her and laughed. She was quite cute as a baby. She was practically bald but her big, round eyes and puffy cheeks made up for it. Her mum was knelt beside. It was strange seeing her mum around my age, over the moon with her little family.

"This is a good photo of your mum," I told her, handing the photo back. She took it and agreed, setting it in the pile to scan.

We spent the whole afternoon sifting through photos. The funeral home had asked for a certain amount and Florence found more than that, ranging from when her mum was a teen to when her mum had two teenagers. There was a huge gap in photos when Florence moved out at the age of 18, photos of her mum again after she was discharged from the hospital, and then photos of her sleeping in hospice care but they didn't want to use those photos. They preferred photos of a happier time when she was healthy.

I helped Florence scan the photos to her computer. She saved the scans on a thumb drive she was to hand to the funeral home. They also sent her a rough draft of the program they were going to hand out. Florence was the one who verified the information was correct and that everything looked good. She was determined to make sure her mum had a good send-off.

Not only did Florence take care of the business side of things, she also looked after her dad. He's been married to his wife for over 30 years and lost her. It was difficult for him to adjust to living without her so he was the one who took it the hardest. Her sister took it pretty hard as well but was busy taking care of other things so it was mainly Florence who did the work. Right when we were about to leave, Florence said she forgot one more thing and went upstairs, saying to give her 10 minutes. I waited in the living room and checked on Mr. Carter. He was sitting in his chair staring at the wall.