300 Letters - 1. The Last Day

The day I kissed you for the very last time, was the first day of my dying heart...

That afternoon was really hot and sunny. July definitely didn't disappoint.

London felt like a hot bubble, that was just about to burst. I was on my way to Guy's Hospital in the city centre.

The tube was like an oven. I was having a massive headache, but luckily the journey from the court to the hospital wasn't too long.

Today, however, it seemed like forever. I was thirsty and emotionally drained. The only thing that kept me going, was the fact that I was just about to see my baby again.

He had been in the hospital for almost two months now - going through his second chemo cycle.

Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma cancer.

I was relieved when I finally got off the train.

I must admit, that each time I entered that hospital I could instantly smell diseases. It used to make me sick knowing, that one of them was inside my boyfriend's body.

Each time I was there, I felt that massive sense of disbelief and the overwhelming sadness.

I often imagined, that it was just a nightmare and that I was just about to wake up.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t sleeping.

It was all real.

That particular day was even more difficult.

Earlier in the court, my barrister advised me, that the jury should finally reach the verdict in my case - after 8 days of deliberating.

She laughed and said, that the main judge rushed them to make their minds up.

The following day he was going on a golf holiday, so being at work wasn't to his liking.

Somewhere deep in my heart, I felt that they might find me guilty.

And as horrifying as it was - a part of me felt at peace.

A few hours earlier, when I was still in court - I saved a little prayer.

I wasn't religious back then, but I decided to speak with God or Universe or anything, that was out there to hear me out. I begged for a cure for his cancer and in return - I offered my freedom.

That was all that mattered to me. His health and his happiness.

Even though I knew, that my whole court case was one big set up, I thought, that perhaps this was the only way to give something for his health.

My freedom.

So when I walked into his hospital room, I realised that maybe this could be our last day together - if my prayer had been answered of course.

C was asleep. The day before he had his chemo and it always hit him hard the following day.

I didn't wake him up - I just sat quietly next to his bed.

After a few minutes, I gently touched his hand and he opened his tired, but still beautiful eyes.

He smiled and I kissed him. He asked me about the court and I told him not to worry about anything.

When I said that, a massive lump blocked my throat and I nearly cried...

Soon after he fell asleep holding my hand. Then I cried a little.

Around 7 pm a nurse walked into the room to check on him and to give him some medication. She smiled and winked at me.

I recognised her - it was the same nurse, who once sat with me outside of C's ward.

She saw me crying there and I think she must have felt sorry.

Every time I had to leave C behind in his hospital bed, I felt extremely hopeless. I remember how guilty I used to feel for not being able to take him home with me. For not being able to help him.

That particular day that nurse sat next to me and told me, that crying was good. And that I shouldn't cry in front of C. I told her I never did.

Then she told me something really unexpected.

She said, that if my love for him was true - it would save him. And if he felt the same way towards me - everything would be alright.

And then someone called her - and she was gone.

She never hugged me or held my hand, but for that very short moment - right there - I felt safe and reassured.

Anyway, after checking his temperature she left us in the room, wishing us a pleasant evening.

C fell asleep again.

This time, I held him in my arms, as I laid down next to him. The bed was just for one person, so half of my body was supported on my leg.

I must have looked hilariously stupid, but I didn't care - I just wanted to hold him for as long as I could.

I knew that my time was coming up.

His mother was on her way and she never accepted the fact, that C was gay and that I was his partner. And that we found love.

She refused to be in the same room with me, so I had to go.

I never wanted to argue with her - I cared for C too much - after all, she was his mother and I wanted him not to get unnecessary stress.

But this time I really didn't want to leave.

He held me tight and I felt like we both wanted to stay that way forever.

I didn't even feel the numbness on my leg anymore - all I wanted was to be with him and never let him go.

I was scared. Scared for him, scared for me, and all I could hear were the clocks ticking everywhere.

We kissed and I asked him to be brave.

I asked him to be strong and not to worry about anything. I told him, that I got this.

I reminded him to look after himself, to listen to the doctors and to drink his mother's healthy soups and drinks.

When we finally shared our last kiss, I gently placed my lips on his forehead and I imagined that I was able to remove his cancer from his body.

I could actually visualise the infected blood steam cells speeding through his veins and disappearing into the air.

I thought, that maybe it was true - that maybe my love for him could, in fact, destroy that cancer... Just like that nurse said...

I reminded him, that I would always love him - no matter what.

I repeated what he always used to tell me - love wins.

He smiled. "Love wins" - he said - "no matter what".And that was it.

I left the room, but once outside I quickly glanced at him, just to see him for one more time.

The following day I was locked up in a prison cell.