Although I could hear the fast beating of the water droplets hitting the roof of my car, the little tear shaped drops ran down my window in slow motion. It was a cold winter morning yet I felt warm. Almost as if I was in the eye of the storm. As I watched the raindrops race down the glass, I let out a tear of my own.

The roads were quiet. Empty, besides the odd car. As we approached a stoplight, I looked for everything I could to take my mind off the current situation. I couldn’t help but notice a woman behind the wheel of a mini. Her mousey brown hair was falling out of a bun, showing signs of struggle during the night. Between her pointer and middle finger, was a cigarette. I assumed she had been working a night shift. As our car pulled away from hers, I looked her right in the eye and for a moment everything stopped, as I saw a glint of warmth in her eyes, before her expression went cold and she sped down the open road. 

As time went by, we passed fewer and fewer people. The big red box was almost silent. My parents are focusing on the road and my brother, half asleep. The only light I could see was the glow of his phone and the streetlight, 6 feet ahead.

00:34. I wrote a letter. Filled with goodbyes. My whole heart poured out in my notes. I knew this was the easiest way to say what I had to say. I cried as I recalled some of my best memories with her. From stealing custard creams behind my grandpa’s back to running around Rouken Glen park or to going to Disney on Ice all dressed up as Snow White. My tears slowly stopped as I looked out the window for what felt like the millionth time. 

There were hardly any cars passing now. The odd Honda or Volkswagen sped past every so often. I gave up making up stories about the drivers and focused more on my phone. 00:49. No one’s up or at least no one’s up and online. I don’t blame them. If I had the choice I would be at home and in bed too. I look at my brother wrapped up in a white duvet with only his brown hair showing. Unlike me he didn’t know where we were going and when he asked me I didn’t have the heart to tell him.

I prayed I would wake up and it would be a nightmare. I prayed that I would wake up surrounded by my yellow duvet and matching yellow pillows. I prayed that I would wake up surrounded by four white walls and the cast of ‘Stranger Things’ staring at me from the poster at the foot of my bed. I prayed that I would attend first period Spanish the next day and laugh over the pronunciation of ‘sacapuntas’ I blinked once. I closed my eyes tighter and blinked again. 00:52.

Even though my heart was racing, time slowed down. 

Could it go any slower…..?

My head was pounding. My mind was a cage and I was trapped in it. I was in a hurricane. Maybe it was more like a tsunami where all my thoughts covered me. Drowned me. Wave, after wave. Crashing over me. Overwhelming me, slowing my breathing. 00:54. It has only been 2 minutes since the last time I checked. 

We’re running out of time. 

She’s running out of time.

My brother’s awake now and he finally understands. He sits under his duvet not talking. Not saying a word. He was silent. I couldn’t even hear him breathing. 01:12. The hospice is twenty minutes away and I have a strong feeling that’s too far. Twenty minutes is twenty minutes too long. 

Fear. People say there’s nothing to fear but fear itself. I would say that’s true to some extent. Fear can be a good thing. Fear can be motivation. In my case, fear was the only thing that made my dad drive fast. The only thing that made my brother stay awake. Fear was driving me crazy. The worry, the panic, it was consuming. Everything around me was like a blur and I couldn’t concentrate. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes again but I was determined to not let them fall. I wasn’t giving into the fear. 

We could make it. 

We could.

We didn’t. 

We parked the car and ran. Ran into the hospice, the nurses recognised us from our dozens of previous visits.  We got to her room and the first thing I saw was my two aunts and uncles, all huddling like penguins do for warmth. The sympathetic look the nurses gave me was enough to tell me it was too late. Everyone parted so I could see my gran lying in the bed. Her hands were cold. Her room was still alive with a tree beside her bed, decorated with candy canes and a little red star; her TV was on standby and her slippers still delicately placed by her bed. It was the first time I’ve seen my dad cry since we first found out his mother had cancer. My family went to the waiting room. And waited. My uncle made coffee for everyone but I never liked coffee, it tasted bitter and I was always put off by the smell, I still am, so I let mine go cold. When the clocks hit 8am I was told to get back in the car, to go to her home, which without her just felt like a house.

As I stood in a room of figures all wearing black, I could taste salt as I listened to the letter I wrote being read out. I could feel a warm, comforting and reassuring hand on my shoulder that I guessed belonged to my auntie that I hadn’t seen since I was 10. I choked on my tears as I walked out the room, receiving sympathetic glances from everyone in the room from family members, to friends, to friends of friends. I could hear ‘Dancing Queen’ ringing out around the room and I covered my ears out of fear and out of pain.