Larkin's Letters (13 page)

With each letter I continue to write, I fear it will be my last. So unlike my previous twenty- nine letters, I am going to end each one by telling you I love you.

I love you, Ryan.

Ryan will never forget the night he forgot to lock the bathroom door. Larkin had had a bad day, and he
was upset with the suffering she had to endure. The weekly IV antibiotics were making her sick for days, and she maybe had two good days out of every week. It was starting to eat at him. He was having a hard time keeping control.

Larkin had been sick most of the day, and she didn’t know it, but while he held her tight as she cried herself to sleep, he was crying, too. It was 2:30 a.m., and she finally fell asleep. Or at least he thought she had. He, as quietly as he could, slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he could see himself falling apart. His red and swollen eyes, his week-old beard clinging to his face, his trembling hands as he wiped his face dry with a towel. He was not this strong man that Larkin thought of him to be. As fear and sorrow took over his body, his legs weakened, and he fell to the cold, marble-tiled floor and began to sob. He finally had lost all control of his emotions, and her impending death that once seemed impossible to him was now becoming a reality.

As he tried to gain control of his emotions so he could return back to the bed to be with Larkin, he felt her soft, frail hands grab his head as it rested on his knees, and he looked up at her as she cradled his face in her hands.

“Kiss me, Ryan. Anytime you feel like crying, you kiss me, okay?” She pressed her lips against his and held them there for a while before slowly pulling them away. “It’s okay to cry, Ryan.” She sat next to him and rested the side of her head against his while she grabbed his hand and interlaced her fingers with his.

“It’s okay to cry. Crying isn’t a sign of weakness, Ryan. It’s a sign of strength. It’s the weakness leaving your body so you can have the strength you need to get through this.” She stroked the side of his head as it fell onto her shoulder. “Why do you think I cry so much?”

“I don’t want you to die, Larkin. I need you to live. I don’t think I can live without you.”

“It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.” She rested her cheek on his head as they sat there for a long while without saying anything. She just continued to caress the side of his head with her fingers and telling him everything was going to be okay.

After calmness finally released the grip that the fear and sorrow had had on his body, he lifted her up off the floor and carried her back to the bed and let her fall asleep in his arms; this time, he reassured her that everything was going to be okay.

Letter #31 - October 13, 2012

Happy birthday, dear Ryan,

Ian, Sarah, and Justin came to help me throw you a birthday party. I think it went well, don’t you? I wanted it to be a surprise, but it’s pretty hard to plan a surprise party when you are by my side every minute of the day. But I don’t mind. I like having you by my side. I can
feel my body weakening, but I am trying hard to be strong. I am trying hard to not let you see me struggle.

We had an intimate party, just you and me, Ian and Linda, Sarah, Justin and Amanda, Joan and Russell, Laura, your mom, Ricky and Jill, and Bobby and Jane, and even Lou from next door made an appearance. I made sure Ian brought you the biggest cake he could find, and I loaded it up with thirty-six candles. It was so big, Ian and I had to carry it to you together. You never took your eyes off me as we all sang “Happy Birthday” to you. Everyone brought you amazing gifts, and you seemed to be having a good time. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Laughing, smiling, and catching up. It was so nice to see everyone like that. I can’t have a conversation with my mother anymore without her bursting into tears. I hope you had a good time, Ryan. It is tradition to make a wish as you blow out the candles. But as you blew out the candles tonight, I made a wish for you. My wish for you, Ryan, is to have many more good times. Life is too short to not.

Happy birthday, Ryan. Make a wish. I love you.

His birthday party was when he realized just how sick Larkin was becoming. She was still strong, but her body became tired faster than it had ever before. He could see how much she struggled to stand when she and Ian held the cake as everyone sang to him. He could see Ian’s arm around her waist holding her upright. She
was tired from the day’s activities, and she was right when she said she did everything she could to not let him see her struggle. She did everything she could to keep a smile on her face as she stood there waiting for him to blow out the candles. And she was also right about all the amazing gifts that everyone had brought, especially hers. She had put together a photo album of pictures starting from their childhood all the way up to the present. It was the best gift he had received all night. She gave it to him in private, after he realized she had retired upstairs without telling him. She had asked Ian to help her upstairs because she wanted to lie down, but she didn’t want him to know because she didn’t want to interrupt the good time he was having with his family and friends. But he did notice. And Ian had told him where she was.

“Hey! You okay, baby?” he asked as he climbed into the bed next to her.

“Yes, I just wanted to lie down for a moment. I’m okay. Go back downstairs to your party.”

“I will. I just wanted to check on you.”

“Hey, open the nightstand drawer. I have a present for you.”

“You do? Larkin, you didn’t have to get me a gift.
Every minute I get to spend with you is a gift.”

“I made it. I want you to have it.”

Ryan pulled a photo album out of the drawer, and they looked at it together, reminiscing about all the memories that each picture symbolized. When they got to the last page, Ryan noticed several blank pages.

“Ryan?” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to die in a hospital. I want to die in your arms with no one else around. Not my parents, not our friends. Just you. I want everyone to be happy, like they are downstairs. I don’t want them crying over me. I can’t handle it. I just want peace. I just want you.”

“Are you sure, Larkin? I don’t know if your parents are going to be okay with that.”

“I’ll talk to them. They’ll give me what I want. What makes me happy.”

“Okay. If that’s what you want, then I will make sure it happens. I promise you that you won’t die alone, that you’ll die in my arms, okay?” He kissed the top of her head as he felt his chest get heavy.

“And, Ryan, I don’t want to spend my last days or months or whatever I have left just sitting around playing card games and watching movies. I want to travel and see things I have never seen. I am feeling strong enough right now to do this. I want to do this before I can’t. I left those pages in the album blank so we can fill them with new memories when we travel.”

Ryan didn’t know what to say. He was worried that traveling would take its toll on her body and that it would accelerate her death. But she had begged and pleaded with him that it was what she wanted, and at that point, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. He would go hungry, he would walk on water, he would hold her for a thousand years, and he would carry her to the ends of the earth if that was where she wanted to go.

Letter #32 - December 25, 2012

Dearest Ryan,

Merry Christmas, my love. These past two months have been like living in a dream. You have taken me to see unbelievable places, and we have taken adventures that I never thought I would have ever taken, even if I was healthy. You have more than kept your promise to me about making the last days of my life miraculous. You have over exceeded. We’ve been to Hawaii, Australia, Paris, Rio de Janeiro, and Mexico. We have been so busy that I haven’t really had any time to write to you. But I am making the time now. I need you to remember the day you gave me yesterday. It was by far the best day of these last two months together, and that is saying a lot because these last two months have been a perfect ending to what I think has been a perfect life…

For the length of Larkin’s sickness, Ryan had always believed she would pull through and beat this disease. He never thought twice about it. But during those last few weeks of her life, as he saw her slowly slipping away from week to week, he knew he was going to lose her. The last two months of Larkin’s life, although difficult at times, were ironically the best times of Ryan’s life. He was amazed at how strong and positive she was even in the face of death. She wanted to live the rest of her life to the fullest, and he made sure she did. For two months, they traveled the world together doing things he never thought he would do. She had requested that she spend what little time she had left with Ryan. She said her good-byes to her family and closest friends before they left, much to their and Ryan’s disapproval, but they obliged because it was what she wanted. Larkin did not want anyone fussing over her, and she couldn’t bear to see her parents grieving over her. She felt that this would be in the best interest of not only her parents but her as well. Seeing them suffer over her dying was too stressful for her, and she wanted her last months to be peaceful. And Ryan was her peace.

She chose to stop the weekly IV antibiotic treatments because she was tired of being sick all the time. She instead started on a daily oral medicine with less side effects, but it also came with a decreased chance of prolonged life as compared to the IV drug. She felt as if that was a sacrifice worth taking. At least she would enjoy the last days of her life. It was mid-October, and they started in Hawaii. He had arranged for them to stay in a private cottage in Maui, and they awoke every morning to symphonic birdsong and invigorating aromas of the air and blooming tropical flowers. The days Larkin felt strong, Ryan would take her on a new adventure. They went on a two-mile tandem ziplining trek that had given them a better vantage point of Maui than a flying eagle. They swam with dolphins and manta rays, they went on helicopter and glass bottom boat tours, they went swimming underneath waterfalls, and they went horseback riding along the white, sandy beaches. The days that Larkin needed to rest, Ryan would lie holding her in the hammock that hung from two palm trees that shaded their private hut. They would lie for hours, and if she was able to stay awake, she would read to him. And every night, they would dance together. They would dance under the bright white moon as the soft grains of sand would caress their bare feet. Ryan would spin Larkin as they listened to the waves crash against the earth at the foot of their private sanctuary. They didn’t need music. Their love was their music, and after each spin, Ryan would pull Larkin back in close to him, kissing her cheek, kissing her forehead, kissing her lips, followed by whispers of “I love you” in her ear.

Australia greeted Ryan and Larkin in the beginning days of November, and it was there where they dove the Great Barrier Reef, went white-water rafting, kayaked in the Coral Sea, and she held his hand as he sacrificed his fear of heights on the ultimate altar of Cairns Bungy Tower.

Ryan and Larkin ended November in Paris where they strolled hand-in-hand along the Seine, soaked up the city life from sidewalk cafes, relaxed at the Luxembourg Gardens, prayed at the Notre Dame Cathedral, and kissed under the Eiffel Tower.

And after spending most of December visiting the Harbor of Rio de Janeiro in Brazil and exploring the beaches of Cabo San Lucas in Mexico, Ryan could see Larkin slowly weakening, slowly succumbing to the strangling grasp of the cancer. He was losing her, and he was trying desperately to find any way to prolong her life.

He knew exactly what day she was going to write about in the letter. He had taken her back to the private cottage they shared in Hawaii, and it was there where he wanted to show her just how much he loved her, just how much she meant to him, and just how much these past twelve months had changed his life.

Ryan continued to read the letter.

…Yesterday was Christmas Eve, and the sun had warmed our small corner of the earth to a perfect seventy degrees. As I slept in, you held true to the daily tradition of bringing me flowers, pacing the grounds around the hut, gathering a bouquet of white gardenias, yellow plumeria, white and pink orchids, and white Hawaiian jasmine to present to me. You took one of the gardenias and gently stroked my face to wake me. I slowly opened my eyes, and I looked up at your beautiful face and swept the side of it with my hand.

“Hi, beautiful-faced boy,” I greeted you. “Hi,” you mouthed back. “How are you this morning?

“Any moment with you is extraordinary.” I couldn’t help but smile.

“Do you feel strong? I have something I want to do with you today.”

As I sat up, you presented me with the hand-made bouquet you had just created, and I accepted it, bringing it to my nose, slowly inhaling, capturing the scent of the islands that emanated off the blooms. “I feel okay. What do you want to do?” I inquired. I knew you could tell I wasn’t being completely honest.

“Well, I want you to take a long bath, and then put your favorite dress on and meet me outside by the veranda in one hour. I’ll just be outside on the porch. I’m not far. Just yell if you need me, okay?” I nodded my head, and you kissed me before you left the room. I couldn’t wait to see what you had in store for us.

After I finished putting my favorite dress on—a pale yellow sundress with lace straps that rested just below my knees—I made my way to the front of the cottage where I saw the bouquet of flowers you had made me that morning resting on the chair that sat next to the front door. A small piece of paper with the words “Bring these with you, and follow the roses” rested on top of the flowers. I grabbed the bouquet and nervously exited the cottage, wondering what it was you had planned. I had to be careful as my knees felt weak, like they could buckle at any given moment. I had to keep one hand outstretched against the wall or hold onto a piece of furniture. As I pushed the screened door open, I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing. I stepped onto a rose petal–covered porch, and the petals extended down the porch steps onto the perfectly manicured lawn and ended at the foot of the veranda where I saw you standing inside, clothed in khaki dress slacks with a white button-down shirt, waiting for me as you stood in front of a priest. I knew at that moment what it was that you, my amazing man, had planned for us, and I did everything I could to hold back my emotions. I brought my hand up to my face as my eyes filled up with tears that represented every emotion you have brought to me this past year.

You approached me as I stood on the top step of the porch, and you reached out your hand to help me down, and after I reached your level, you knelt down on one knee and proposed to me. “Larkin, marry me again. Renew our vows with me. Let me prove to you just how much I love you.”

I looked down at you, down into your brown eyes, and I gave you a nod, and with that, you stood up and picked me up and carried me to the makeshift altar on the veranda. As we stood face-to-face listening to the priest recite passages from the Bible, I held on to your hands as hard as I could, desperately trying not to fall to your feet. You pulled me in close and wrapped your arms around my waist so I didn’t have to try so hard to stand. The priest offered the chance for us to say our vows.

“Larkin, I will continue to breathe so you can breathe. I will continue to stand so you can stand. I will continue to honor and love you as my wife. You will never be alone. You will never be without me. I will be holding your hand till the very end.” And just like our wedding day last April, you sealed your vow with a kiss on my ring that has never been removed from my finger.

“Ryan, you never cease to amaze me. You have changed my life in ways you can’t begin to imagine. You have shown me the true meaning of life and love. You have made my life worth living. There is no better person than you, and I am happy just to have known you, and I am honored you let me love you.” And as I also did on our wedding day in April, I sealed my vow with a kiss on your ring.

Thank you, Ryan. Thank you for an amazing day. Thank you for an amazing life. We may not have been together for all of it, but you have always been in my heart. Why are you so good to me?

I love you.

He remembered it just like she described it. After the priest had confirmed the renewal of their vows, he carried Larkin through the veranda, up the porch steps, and inside the cottage. He knew she was beginning to suffer, and it was killing him to see her that way. She was so weak and so tired all the time. He held her in his arms as they lay on the couch in front of the fire while he waited for the dinner he had ordered to be delivered. She was especially beautiful that day. The cancer may have taken her health and her strength, but it certainly hadn’t taken away her beauty.

That night, Larkin had taken a turn for the worst. She ate very little at dinner, and she had come down with a low-grade fever and night sweats. She had vomited a couple of times but very little since she had nothing in her stomach. Ryan was scared. He was more scared that night than any other night he had been with her when she was sick. He stayed in bed with her and just held her as close as he could. He feared the worst.

“Larkin?” He paused for a moment. This had been the question he had been dreading. “Larkin? Tell me what you want. Tell me where you want to die.” She didn’t respond. He waited a moment to see if she would say anything. He knew she was awake. He could feel her breathing, and by then, he was able to tell if she was asleep or awake by the way she breathed. “Larkin? Please tell me what you want. Please tell me where you want to die.”

She looked up at him for a moment, then returned her head to his chest.

“Home,” she whispered. “I want to die in the house we made our home. I want to go home.”

“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “Okay. We’ll go home.”

“Ryan? I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything, Larkin.”

“I need you to call Ian and Sarah and Justin and make sure they are there when I die. Not in the room with us, but there at home. I want you to have Justin make all the calls to our family and friends because he is good at things like that. He has a way of making people feel at ease.” Ryan didn’t say anything. He just listened.

“Are you listening to me, Ryan?” she asked sternly.

“Yes, of course I am.”

“And I want Ian to carry me to the hearse after I am gone.”

“What? No, Larkin. No. Why? Why Ian?” Ryan was angered by her strange request.

“Trust me, Ryan. You have to trust me. I want Ian to carry me to the hearse. Okay? You promise me this, okay?”

“Okay. I promise,” he answered, holding back his tears. “And what about Sarah? What do you want Sarah there for?”

“To hold your hand, because you are going to need her.”

Ryan could no longer hold his tears back, and as he began to cry, Larkin raised her head up and kissed him. “Remember, Ryan, anytime you want to cry, you kiss me.”

Letter #33 - December 26, 2012

To my beautiful-faced boy.

We are journeying back home—home for me to die. I had a bad night last night, and I know it scared you. I could see it in your eyes. Today was better. At least I feel strong enough to travel. You have been holding on to me as we sit on the airplane, and I actually pretended to fall asleep so you would, too, just so I could write this. I wanted to get one last letter in to you. Mainly because I know that you are wondering why I requested that Ian carry me to the hearse after I die. It’s not because I don’t want you to. It’s because I don’t want your last memory of me to be lying on a gurney. I want our last memory to be of us lying together with you holding me as my life ends.

One thing I learned from you was that whenever you do something you are afraid to do, regardless of the outcome, it is a victory. Fear is one’s worst enemy, and you need to do everything in your power to not succumb to it. Fear keeps us from living. If you let fear prevail, then you might as well be dead. But how do you not give in to fear? Courage. And you, Ryan, are the most courageous person I know. Don’t start letting fear overcome you now. You will need that courage now more than ever. Find a way to hold onto it, and don’t ever let it go. You showed me how to find mine. Every smile, every laugh, every touch, every word, and every step you helped me take, and every breath you helped me breathe all gave me courage. And this letter symbolizes that courage. Keep it with you always, and you will never be without it.

I can only hope that you fully understand how grateful and indebted I will always feel to you for everything you have sacrificed for me. I don’t know if it is possible to find the words to explain to you all that you have been to me, but let me at least try.