Through The Dark

The End

Saph

"Mum." I heard a distant voice call, but I was too caught up into my own thoughts.

"Mum, we have to go." Maeve managed to get my attention, concern written all over her face when I finally zoned back in and looked at her.

"Sorry darling, got lost in thought." I softly smiled at her. She returned it, taking my hand to help me get up from my chair.

"I could tell, but we have to go now if you wanna get to see dad before visiting hours are over." With a sympathetic look, she helped me regain my balance. I sighed in defeat, nodding at her.

"Come on. Robbie and the kids are waiting for us in the car." I was still trying to comprehend how grown up she was, already married with her own family, my grandchildren that I adored so much. And I was grateful she was still willing to check up on me every now and then. Elliot had moved to Manchester for his family, so he couldn't spend as much time with me here in London. But I never left this city. I never left the house I watched my family grow. I couldn't do it, no matter how hard it was living in it all by myself.

I wish Niall was still able to live with me, but that was almost impossible. Turning sixty five years old was the beginning of his downfall. His brain could no longer keep up with everything happening around him. It began when he started struggling to play simple guitar chords, but he brushed it off saying it was because he just hadn't played live for a couple of years.

Then, he began forgetting small tasks and simple things, like that he no longer had to go to the studio since his group retired about a decade back. And that hurt to see. He'd get up sometimes early in the morning, rummage around for his guitar and prepare to leave for the studio and it was heart wrenching for me to have to remind him he no longer did that for a living. He was happy with being retired. He would just forget.

As the years went by, his memory acquired more blanks. But we realised how much of a problem it really was when he was unable to recognise one of his younger grandchildren. That was the moment he realised himself that something was wrong with him, but it was already too late. No medication in the world could cure his Alzheimer's completely. It could just slow it down.

But he still ended up after almost reaching eighty to have to stay in a facility that could take care of him properly and I hated every second after that day that I'd have to stay apart from him. I knew it was for his own good and there was nothing I could do. Not when he didn't even recognise me.

That was the worst morning of my life, when I woke up to find the love of my life looking at me like he's never seen me before in his life, getting defensive and asking why I was there. It was something that only lasted for a couple of minutes, the realisation of what happened hurting him more than it hurt me.

"Gem, I need help." He told me right after, so that was the catapult that we needed to make the decision we did. I cried myself to sleep every night I spent alone in our bed for the next month. I thought that this was it, it couldn't get worse. But I was bitterly wrong.

He had reached a point of having forgotten almost everything that made him the person I so desperately loved. He'd have these moments where bits and pieces would come back to him, but it rarely happened anymore. And it was a shame, because he was relatively healthy for his age. If his mind was in the right place, our lives wouldn't have changed almost at all. We'd spend every day together in our home, meet up with our old friends and beloved family members and watch over our grandchildren whenever we were needed to. We'd go to their recitals and their sports games.

And we'd be able to show love to eachother like we always did, since the first day we were honest about our feelings. I missed him.

I missed him so much.