THE LAST WISH OF THE YOUNGEST SON
Claire cannot take her eyes off the Operating Theatre sign. The letters blur as the hours crawl by; her heart thuds anxiously. She fidgets with her son Johnnys favourite toy cara red plastic tractor with a bucket. Johnny, her four-year-old youngest, wanted a blue tractor at first, just like in the cartoon, but grew attached to this one, a gift from his beloved dad, with all the fierce love his poorly little heart could muster.
At last, through the frosted glass, a mans silhouette appears. The doors swing open, and a weary surgeon stands in the corridor. Claire leaps to her feet and hurries to meet him.
Doctor, how is he? How did it go? Hows Johnny?
The doctor lowers his gaze, gently pulling off his mask.
Mrs. Fletcher, Im so sorry. We did everything we could
***
Claire lies curled up on Johnnys bed, holding his pillow close. It still carries his scent. Across the room, a biscuit-stained handprint is visible on the mirrora mark shes glad she hadnt cleaned, as now hell never be there to make another. Hell never drop his tired little head onto this pillow again.
Another salty tear trickles down Claires weather-beaten cheek. Grief corrodes her from within; her own heart is steady and wholesomething Johnny never had. Her oldest, Matthew, is healthyeighteen now and at university. But Johnny… her unexpected late joy, now turned to overwhelming mourning. All the scans throughout pregnancy said things were fine, and only right before his birth did they suddenly find a rare heart defect. Something went wrong during emergency surgery; there is no Johnny now.
***
Claire drifts into a fitful, restless sleep. Again, as she has every night, she dreams shes in a sun-dappled meadow scattered with fragrant wildflowers. In the distance stands Johnny, beaming in his favourite shirt decorated with cars, clutching a huge bouquet of daisies.
Johnny! Darling! Claire calls out, arms outstretched, but Johnny doesnt appear to hear her, lost in gently plucking daisy petals. She runs across the flower-filled field for a hug, but no matter how much she runs he never gets closerif anything, he drifts further from her. Claire cries out in desperation, reaching for him, but he remains out of reach. Suddenly, Johnny looks up, gives her his usual smile, and fades away, leaving only a cloud of daisy petals floating down.
She halts where the petals settle and stares at her feet. There, on the fresh green grass, white petals form a tidy addressneat and unmistakable.
***
A phone call wakes Claire. She blinks at her phoneher son Matthew.
Yes, darling? Claire croaks softly.
Mum, Im coming home today. Can you make something nice for me?
She forces a smile. Enough now. Its been almost three months since Johnny passed away, but she still has her oldest son. Its time to try to pull herself together and live on.
Of course, love. Would you like some pancakes?
That would be brilliant, Mum! Im already on the coach, see you soon!
Matthew tries to visit every weekend. He knows how hard its been on his parentshe feels the pain of losing his brother acutely. But life must go on, and they need to get through this as a family.
Claire drags herself from bed and shuffles to the kitchen. She checks the fridge, rummages through the shelves, and realises theyre out of milk. Her husband, David, is at the kitchen table, soldering something fiddly inside his laptop. He looks up.
Do you need anything? Off to the shop?
Matthews called. Hes on his way, wants pancakes, says Claire, keeping her voice steady. And were out of milk. Ill pop out myself; need some air.
David lifts his glasses, surprised. Shes coming back to life, he thinks with relief.
Claire dresses and heads outside. A gentle spring breeze greets her. Birds are chirping, and the tree branches are tinged with fresh greenalmost ready to burst with new leaves. Its natures awakening after a long English winter. Claire sighs: Johnny never saw his fifth spring
She gives her head a shake, brushing away sad thoughts, and heads to the shop.
***
Claire grabs a bottle of milk, Matthews favourite chocolate, a loaf of bread, and a chicken before heading for the till. Suddenly, a familiar giggle rings out from another aislea sound that makes her chest tighten. Johnnys giggle. Claire rushes towards it, only to glimpse a childs silhouette vanishing around a corner. Suppressing reason, she follows, even knocking over a big cardboard display about a special offer.
As she bends to pick it up, she freezes. Across its white surface, the same address from her dream is printed in bold red letters.
Johnny, what are you trying to tell me? Claire whispers.
She walks home deep in thought. Surely theres a meaning; Johnny must want her to find something out through that address. Still, not today. Today, she must welcome her only remaining son and try to keep herself together.
***
The evening passes with surprising warmth. Claire even finds herself smiling at her sons university tales. Matthew tucks hungrily into her home cooking, and Claire and David watch on, filled with love and quiet sorrowhes their firstborn, now their only child. Eventually, everyone heads to their rooms, and night settles over the house.
Worn down by the day, Claire falls asleep quickly. In the middle of the night, shes woken by the distant sound of singing from the bathrooma childs voice unmistakable to her. Johnnys voice, singing his favourite song from the cartoon with the blue tractor.
Her heart pounds and she chokes back tears. She quietly creeps towards the bathroom, barely daring to breathe. She opens the doorand of course, no one is there. Tears spill again.
What did I expect? To find Johnny in there? Hes gone. Its just my grief playing tricks, she scolds herself.
At the sink, she splashes her face with cold water. She must pull herself togetherDavid and Matthew need her. Staring in the mirror at her drawn, pale face, she impulsively soaps her hand and swipes it down the glass. Miraculously, as the suds drip, they take the shape of lettersforming the same address once more. A chill runs down her spine. Then, as clear as day, a soft childs voice whispers:
Im waiting for you, Mummy
***
Why arent you in bed? David stirs, woken by the light of the laptop.
Claire is sitting up, the computer balanced on her knees, eyes locked on the screen.
David, come here… If you feel what I do, maybe Im not losing my mind after all.
Grumbling, David crosses to her. His heart lurches as he sees the photo of a little boy, around four years old. The words above it read: Elliott Jones, 4 years old. Parents died in a car crash three years ago; was brought up by his nan. For six months hes been in the childrens home, since his grandmother passed away.
That address has been haunting me for days, Claire whispers. Johnny keeps sending it to me.
She tells David about the dream, the shop, the bathroom. After a pause, David says firmly,
Were going.
***
Mrs. Hemsworth, the childrens home manager, leads Claire and David down the bright corridor, chatting non-stop as she goes.
When little Elliott came to us, we thought he wouldnt be here long. He was confident and settled after a happy childhood with his grandmother. Three families tried to adopt him, but each time he just shut down and wouldnt connect. I cant force any child to a family he doesnt want. He insists his mum and dad will come for himand hell know them. And these past three months, hes spoken constantly about an imaginary friend called Johnny, who recently told him his parents were on their way
Claire and David exchange glancescould their Johnny be trying to help this lonely little one?
Have a look, get to know him. Perhaps youll find a way into his heart, Mrs. Hemsworth says, ushering them into the playroom.
Claire recognises him at once: small and thin, hes kneeling with other children, stacking blocks and softly singing Johnnys favourite tune. Elliott glances over, jumps to his feet, and races across the room with a cry:
Mummy! Daddy! I knew youd come!
***
The adoption paperwork races along, thanks to Mrs. Hemsworths help. Shes deeply touched to see Elliott bonding with Claire and David, and moved further when she learns about Johnny. Within a month, Claire, David and Matthew return to collect Elliott and bring him home at last.
Just before they leave, Elliott slips free from Claires hand.
Mum, wait! he says, glancing down the corridor, Johnnys therehe wants to say goodbye!
Claires heart squeezes painfully, but now its a gentler achea recognition that nothing can be changed, but life must go on. Elliotts fragile heart has made room for them, and she must be strong for him now too. She will always love and remember Johnnybut now there is another child in need of her strength.
Elliott runs to the window at the end of the corridor, pauses, then rushes back to his new family. And outside that window, on the zinc sill, a beautiful white dove appears, circling above the building before soaring into the skyabove Elliott, Claire, and her family.
