A portion of the proceeds from paid subscriptions to this newsletter go towards supporting the work of Pilgrims Hospice Canterbury where Imogen spent her final three weeks of life. Here is the letter I wrote to the incredible staff there this week.
If you would like to join me in supporting the hospice, please consider becoming a paid subscriber to this Substack.
Dear Laura and all at Pilgrims Hospice,
.
It has been three months since Imogen arrived at the hospice.
Two months since she died.
One month since her funeral.
.
I am writing to share some memories I have of the weeks I spent with Imogen in your care.
Weeks that, though we didn’t necessarily know it or want to believe it at the time, were her final.
Weeks I will cherish, forever.
Because of you.
. . .
I remember
Vicky visiting us at home with Sophie to talk about coming into the hospice.
That it was a terrifying and difficult decision.
But that it was the best decision we could have made.
.
I remember
The two ambulance drivers who sent us flowers the day after we checked in.
.
I remember
The sun streaming in from the garden through the patio doors to Room 16.
Her room.
Our room.
.
I remember
Hayley massaging Imogen’s hands.
Lorraine lovingly rearranging flowers.
.
I remember
Imogen’s eyes lighting up and her spirit lifting when Sarah or Ruth walked into the room.
.
I remember
Margaret’s patient pursuit of painlessness
Leigh swapping parenting stories with Imogen like two mums at the school gate
Nicola coming and going coming and going coming and going never with any loss of gentle enthusiasm.
.
I remember
Michael moving pillows.
Reassuring conversations in the corridor with Laura.
Sue and Sam’s laughter.
.
I remember the military operation it took Ruth and Hayley to cast our family hands.
And the joy on Imogen’s face when the final mould was revealed.
.
I remember
Feeling grounded by Lynn’s matter-of-factness
Simone gently observing Imogen’s decline and alerting me to the approach of her final hours.
Being held by Valerie shortly after Imogen had died.
.
Like the midwives who ushered our children into the world
I marvelled at the existence of these kind, patient, caring, professional people.
ushering this wonderful woman
out of it.
.
I marvelled at you all.
.
Those three weeks cocooned in Imogens room
coordinating the visits of family and friends
ordering smoothies
arranging flowers
fetching lollies
helping her to the toilet
holding her hand
sleeping at her side
writing the story of her final stand
are amongst the most precious memories my mind holds.
.
Being alongside her as she navigated those final days and walking with her as she crossed that final void was the greatest privilege of my life.
.
Nothing pains me more than to think of the love of my life dying in my arms.
And yet
I wouldn’t have wished it any other way.
.
After all the years and months and days of uncertainty and shuttling back and forth to London hospitals and pain and sleepless nights and desperation and cooking and cleaning and caring and calling the hospital and calling the nurses and calling the hospice and midnight visits and medical supplies and being dad and being carer and being cook and being co-ordinator and being comforter and being courageous and crying
you gave me something I didn’t even realise I needed.
That I thought would never be possible again.
.
You all gave me the greatest gift of all.
.
Time to be a husband to my wife.
.
And for that
I shall forever be grateful.
.
Thank you.
Thank you all.
George x
Previous > On Coping #41: Pack of four | Next > On Coping #43: The small things
On Coping is my story of surviving on the sidelines of cancer.
It begins in March 2022 with On Coping #1, written the day after my 41st birthday. The day my wife Imogen, the mother of my three children, was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.
On Coping is the story of what happened next.
I feel certain all the wonderful carers at Pilgrims Hospice will not have read a more beautiful thank you letter than this. It’s unique in its individual praise. I find it a real comfort, as a family friend, to read that you were nurtured in such an all consuming way. The letter is as unique as Imogen herself a perfect match. X
Aren't we lucky to roam the earth with souls like these around us... your words help us be better notice-rs, George. Thank you as ever.