By Caitríona Murphy
Dear Caitríona,
If I could go back in time and talk to you, I’d talk to you at sixteen, an age where you think you are beginning to understand life. You don’t. In ten years’ time, you still won’t.
Okay, first of all, put down the romance novel. They aren’t good for you and reading three of them in one weekend isn’t something to brag about. Let’s start with some obvious advice; don’t cut your hair. You are so close to getting your first pair of hair straighteners and no lie, they will change your life. Just hold on. Tell Jack that one day his entire right arm will be covered in tattoos, just to see his reaction. Don’t worry too much about maths, yes, you will fail it in your final exams (shocking, I know) but the good news is that you will never use long division again. Tell Sue that she will get accepted to study medicine and Sarah that she is still creating art, which gets more breath-taking by the day. Tell Mam hi, she is doing great, still strong and smart and wonderful.
Now Cat, this part is important, don’t skim it. Hug your Granda extra tight, tell him you love him as often as you can and spend as much time as possible with him; one day he falls asleep and you don’t get a chance to say goodbye. There is heartbreak ahead, not silly upset caused by stupid boys, but real heartbreak. Listen to Dad; really listen, even when he is exasperating and giving out and annoying you, listen to him. There is a long battle ahead for him, one that he ultimately survives, but there are casualties of the battle nonetheless. One of those casualties is his voice. Cancer will take so much from him and even though you will know the joy, the indescribable joy, of his survival, of his triumph, you will also know what it is to wake in the middle of the night and cry, when you will grieve for the casual act of him humming a mindless tune or even muttering a smart remark. You will panic that you can’t remember his voice. So listen carefully, to all of it. Commit that voice to memory. Continue Reading…