Chapter 58 — Anna's Death

The next day Anna was barely conscious, and when she was, she would utter, 'I'm ready now. I'm ready now.'

When we replied, 'What are you ready for, Anna, tell us?'

She simply repeated, 'I'm ready now. Now, I'm ready.'

The next day Anna lost consciousness, and she never regained it. The doctor advised against giving her water to sip, as she might choke upon it. Instead, we periodically used swabs to moisten her lips, lips that were once so full and red, but were now limp, pale, and almost lifeless. I opened her mouth and tried to moisten the inside of it; her tongue was stuck to her cheek because of the lack of moisture.

A nurse had been assigned to stay the nights and allow Alex and me to get some sleep, and she stayed with Anna during the night.

At five o'clock the next morning, the nurse started to ascend the stairs. The two little dogs we had began to bark against the intrusion when she opened the bedroom door.

'Karl, can you come down, please.'

Anna died around the hour of five in the morning. The nurse asked us to close her eyes. I tried and so did Alex, too, but they seemed to resist the effort. Eventually, Anna's eyes did close for the very last time.

I went next door and woke Rebecca and Danny, and they came to their mam for the last time.

An hour later, the doctor arrived and confirmed Anna, my Anna, Rebecca's mam, and Alex's, too, had indeed died.

Another hour passed and more people arrived, and then Anna was gone, and only the hospital bed remained.

I sat in the chair next to the computer and played the first song I could find: 'Redemption Song' by Bob Marley.

***

A week and a day or two passed before the funeral. The strangest part in that time was the unendurable silence and lack of company. During Anna's last days at home there would regularly be upwards of ten people visiting each day, and now, there were none. I suppose people think it's best to leave the family alone and to not pester them. I would do the same if roles were reversed, but company for me, at that time, was better than the excruciating emptiness during those first few days of losing Anna.

Before the funeral, the vicar turned up on this big Harley Davidson motorbike and announced he would be taking the funeral service. He was a voluble character, and I liked him. He asked what songs we would like playing, and Rebecca wanted 'One Woman' by Bob Marley.

'And what about you, Karl? What song would you like, or what song do you think Anna would've liked?'

I was going to offer a song when a memory from a few months earlier arose to strike and arrest my attention. I remembered back; it was a Friday, and we'd had a barbecue with the neighbours next door, and Anna and I were both in the high spirits of drink, and she was sat on my lap, and we were each choosing a song off YouTube, and one particular song, which she had chosen, she'd said, 'I'd like this playing at my funeral if I ever get to die.' I didn't think anything of it at the time.

I couldn't remember the song, and I told the vicar, when I remembered it, I'd drop off the song before the funeral.

No matter how hard you sometimes try to recall a memory, the memory won't oblige, and I must have listened to hundreds of songs, but I couldn't find that one or even remember the words of the song, which would have helped. I was on the point of giving up and presenting another song, when almost completely out of the blue, whilst walking the dogs in the park, the word 'Carnival' came to me, and when I arrived home, I played 'The Carnival is Over' by the Carpenters.

The funeral passed over as funerals do, and there were many tears from the people who were there. Old Brian was in the first car with us, and Emma and Mark, our neighbours, dropped him off home with his shopping when it was over.