Years Ago Today

2nd July 2015

"Dennis, just stop!"

Vicki's face is severe as she races desperately after him. He runs on, thinking it's a game as he weaves between the mossy headstones. But I let her go, rebuffing her pained look of apology. I don't even care to look, to take responsibility for my own son. Because I'm somewhere else right now. My baby is innocent. I mean, he knows where he is... he's where his daddy is. But a child of nine is never going to understand the concept of death, why we've been alone for all of his life. And what little boy would want to be hauled to a graveyard on his birthday? I've promised to take him bowling; I'm willing to surround myself with all his hyperactive friends from the Square for the afternoon if he'll just... give me a moment here, let me share this day with his dad.

"Hey darlin'." I murmur, feeling that rush of love as I sink down in front of my husband's headstone, still so bright, still so smooth. "We're home."

I brush my fingertips lovingly over the groove of the lettering, tracing out his name.

I've been trying to convince myself I didn't want to be here for this occassion. When Dennis started half term, we were straight on a plane to Michelle's in America, and I almost promised him we'd make it to Disneyland to celebrate his birthday. But he'd been telling me, gabbling like eight year old boys do about their birthdays, how much he was looking forward to inviting all his friends to his birthday party.

And all Dennis' friends are back in Walford, that's where I brought him to make his home. Because whether I like it or not, Walford is where my son's roots lie, and it's the only place that makes me understand who I am. I knew it would hurt to go back - I hid away in America til my son was three and a half, taking up a flat a few blocks away from Michelle and Vicki. I wince, immediately remembering why I'd simply had to come home. I was changing, I barely recognised myself and that pain had been there since Dennis began to talk. He spoke his words as if he were American. And he wasn't... I could never let it be that way for either of us - he was Dennis' son, he had to know that.

So we got on a plane and I took my baby to the Square that broke my heart... so many times. I bit back the pain, I refused to let a tear fall, even as I lay so lonely in my bed without my lover. Because to be here, somehow, we were close again.

But still, we'd gone to see Michelle a week or so ago, and I just knew I was running away. From my husband, dead and buried in the ground because I still felt as though he could scold me so. Every day that passed, my resolve weakened as I considered what Dennis would say to me. He'd always known America was my escape... but how does anyone, anywhere escape death?

By the fifth day, I was missing Dennis so much, I raced, my sister in tow for moral support, back to the airport, back to Walford... back to his graveside. How could I expect our son to celebrate his birthday away from everything I'd forced him to know, away from his own father?

"I missed you so much." I whisper to the flawless stone as I slip fresh roses into the holder, discarding the wilted offering I left before I ran. 

Roses are important to me. Because of their convential meaning, but also because so many times, I have caught my fingers on the sharp thorns and I have bled. Bled as my darlin' did, gratefully feeling the tiniest fraction of what he felt as he lay in my arms for the last time, perhaps knowing, perhaps not... that he lay there dying.

Sinking back onto my knees with a sigh, my hands undamaged, my task complete, I sit, knowing that his cold body lies feet beneath me. This is the closest we can be. So I seek my solace, my hands pressed firmly to the earth, reaching for him. The tension has resided in my arms for the nine years since he left, they ache to hold him just one more time. So I am here, pretending he lies content within my embrace. Because he is my solace. He is the reason I can never leave.

"You know what day it is don't you, Dennis?" My lips flicker, daring to present a smile as the sunlight pours down, leaping affirmatively from the gilded lettering. "I couldn't let him stay away, not today. He's nine y'know... nine. I can't believe you've been gone so long, baby. It's not fair. If it hadn't been for Dennis... oh I wish you could see him-" I raise my eyes heavenwards, somehow hoping I'll be corrected, have it to proved to me that Dennis has seen his son, that he's been there for every day of his precious life. "-you know what I see when I look at our baby, Dennis? I see what you must have been when you were his age. Cos he's bloody cheeky, a right little temper on him-" I bow my head, giggling quietly to myself. "No, you think he got that from me don't you? I know..."

I turn around, catching sight of Vicki, who by now has firmly her hands on Dennis. It's strange to hear laughter in a graveyard. But they're laughing, they can never stop when they're together - they bounce off each other. And they're lifting the atmosphere of this horrible place, making the sun shine a little brighter. Dennis is wound helplessly round Vicki's back, like he might be a shawl and she's spinning, like all she's doing is dancing. And as she laughs, he giggles, clinging to her as he begs; "Faster, Vicki, faster!"

What nine year old boy would play around with his auntie like he was still three? Well, my Dennis obviously would, but I can tell he'll swagger into that bowling alley later on and make to his friends like she tried to throw him into an open grave or something.

"...but he's so beautiful. He looks just like you... and he is like you darlin', he can have anyone he wants falling in love with him as soon as look at him... me included, every damn morning. You know he's had six girlfriends this year already? It was only three last year. I'm telling you Dennis, you best not have given our son your reputation, cos I ain't having it! You should have a word... I'm only his mum, he don't listen to me... he needs his dad in his ear."

Content to have made such a decision, I twist my torso, looking out over my shoulder towards my sister and my son, calling; "Dennis? Will you come over here please?"

Vicki huffs gratefully as she sets him down and obediently, he makes his way back to me. I smile, but he doesn't look as if he dare. Poor darlin', he's frightened. He doesn't really like to come here, says he only does it "because it makes you smile, Mummy." How is he meant to understand why he is away from his daddy? I hold out my arms as he comes nearer, wanting him to know that I'll be here. He crashes down against my knees and I hug him tight.

"C'mon... come sit here."

I turn round, facing the headstone again, patting the earth in front of me. He gives me an odd look and I almost laugh, immediately seeing flashes of the way Dennis would look at me so disbelievingly sometimes.

"It's alright baby, Mummy's here." 

So he sits down, crossing his legs and straightening his back as he leans against me, resting his small hands over my own wound around his waist just to reassure him I'm there, that I'm never going anywhere.

"C'mon Dennis-" I giggle nervously as I feel how he tremors. "He's hardly gonna bite is he? You not even gonna say hello to your own daddy?"

His bottom lip quivers for a moment and then he shakes his head fiercely, not saying a word.

"No?" I murmur, nestling into him and speaking against his ear. "Why not? He's missed you y'know."

"But he doesn't know anything."

I pull back, slightly stung as I examine his face, his smouldering eyes brimming with tears.

"I'll have you know your daddy knows one hell of a lot." I tell him indignantly. I won't let him doubt Dennis' memory, not for anything, not when I've strived so hard all these years to keep it alive, to never forget.

"Not about me. He doesn't know my favourite colour, he doesn't know how tall I am... he doesn't even know what I want for my birthday..."

I chew thoughtfully on my lip, pained by his unease. I can't blame him for thinking thoughts like this, it's natural for kids to do this and he knows he's different. I've tried so hard to make it easier on him, have been telling him since before he was born how special he is to Dennis and me, but there's no escaping the fact he's right. Dennis never had the chance to be his dad, to know the things our son wishes he did.

Sighing, I kiss my son's cheek, and for once, he doesn't protest, too saddened. I let my fingertips dance lovingly through his soft hair and whisper; "He says he's always known Dennis... every day, every year, he's known. Your favourite colour is blue. Yesterday, you were one hundred and twenty seven..." He gives me a cocky look before the words are out, and I know what's most important to him, so I add pointedly "...and a half centimetres tall. And you wanted a PS4 for your birthday."

"How do you know he knows that?"

"Because he tells me. He tells me everything."

"Why won't he tell me Mummy?"

"He will baby, you just have to listen really hard."

And for a moment, that seems to console him at the same time these lies do me. I hear them leave my mouth and I almost believe them. Because I'll never surrender to the idea Dennis has left us completely alone. He brought our son into this world, against all the odds I had ever known. He wouldn't do that just to leave us lonely. Even in the treachery of his death, he could never be that cruel.

"But why can't he just be here? Why can't I have a daddy like everyone else at school? What's wrong with me?"

Right at that moment, my heart breaks. It's right then that I almost forget my vow and break down in front of my child. I was always so scared this moment would come, my innocent little baby blaming himself for the losses he could never have prevented but I cannot cry. Instead I cast my eyes darkly to the headstone as I cuddle protectively into my little boy, wanting to soothe his doubts away, muttering to the clouds; "I hope you're hearing this, Dennis Rickman."

"Why did he have to go to heaven when he did? Why couldn't he just wait til I'd seen him? I thought only old people went to heaven? Old people and all of Vicki's goldfish-"

I can't help but laugh then, however weak the sound is. My little sister is now twenty-eight years old and she still can't look after so much as a fish. She's tried so hard to prove us wrong, and gone through scores of the poor, condemned little things and even Dennis knows none of them ever stood a chance at her hands.

"Baby..." I begin, drawing in a tight breath of preperation, hoping I'll be able to make him see. 

But just beginning hurts. Because I used to call Dennis "baby". And now I call our precious son baby instead because that's what he is - my one and only perfect baby. But I'd have had to find him a new pet name if his daddy was here with us - because Dennis was always meant to be my baby. He was never meant to leave it to another. He always meant to be here, but-

 "...your dad loved you and me more than anything in all this world. When we found out we were going to have you, his face was just like yours was when you opened your PS4 this morning... it was like he'd just gotten the best birthday present ever. We wanted you so much, we wanted to look after you. And a... a bad man, a very bad man-" A lump's rising in my throat - I think I'm going to choke. Because I can't cry. "-hurt Mummy when you were still in my tummy. And your daddy was so angry, because we mattered so much to him. He... had an argument with the bad man and-"

"Did he make Daddy go to Heaven Mum?"

"Yes baby." I whimper, hiding my face as I feel the tears burn. "Yes, he did. But you have to know your dad never wanted to go, but God... he wanted to see him and you know you can't argue with God don't you?"

Dennis giggles. "Auntie Dot would be cross if I did."

I smile, comforted as I am reminded how Dot loved Dennis. "Yes, she would. You mustn't fight with people Dennis, not ever. Because if they hurt you like they hurt your daddy, then Auntie Dot, your Auntie Vicki and me... we'd cry. So much."

His face crumples. "I don't want to make you cry."

"And I don't want to." I say pointlessly, aware that I have at last betrayed myself as my son watches the tears pour down, falling faster than I can even try to wipe them away.

"Do you think... if we went to Heaven, we could ask for Daddy to come home? It doesn't have to be for long. Just so he could come bowling with us... play on my PS4... and read me a bedtime story. The one with all the zombies in the vampire's castle? Vicki says he'd be able to read it really well, do voices and everything."

"Oh yeah." I sniffle bitterly, barely aware that anyone else can hear the words. "Dennis liked scaring the life out of people."

"Mummy?"

I'm brought out of myself by his timid enquiry and I flinch, berating myself for speaking such ill of the hopelessly dead. "Oh!" I sigh, pulling my little boy into my arms. "Ignore me baby, your mummy's being silly. She just... misses your daddy. I wish we could go and get him too, but we can't go to Heaven til God wants us to. No-one can."

"Sharon?"

So lost in the misery that's enveloping Dennis and me, I barely hear Vicki until a twig snaps beneath her feet, whirling round suspiciously. She's apologetic, but still looks anxiously at her watch.

"The party starts in twenty minutes. We should really go."

I sigh in resignation. "You'll have to say goodbye now birthday boy."

His eyes widen in fright. "What, forever?"

"No! No, we'll come back, I promise. He wants us to come back, you know that. We can come back whenever you want to."

His shoulders slope back in relief - another thing that reminds me immediately of Dennis. He is so much like him, sometimes it's painful to watch my son come into his own. Because every day I feel like I'm losing more and more of my ability to protect him from the cruelty of the world that stole away the man we both need to love so much.

Tenderly, he slips his small hand through mine. I look down in surprise. Dennis hasn't held my hand since he found me crying into a glass of wine on my birthday - another day to miss his dad. He's too big, too cool for all that now. And yet, he's here, just hoping to make me smile. He's such a darlin'. My darlin'.... just like his dad.  

"Tomorrow?" he suggests uncertainly, smiling only as I smile, pressing a kiss along to smooth edge of the headstone.

"Yes, alright. Tomorrow. Now, c'mon..."

28th August 2024

"Fifty eh, Dad? Well, congratulations, you jammy bastard - you don't look a day over thirty-one."

"Oi! That's your father you're talking to."

Smiling wryly, I stuff my hands anxiously into my pockets, scuff the toe of my shoe into the earth and turn expectantly to my mother, whose bemusement plays in her face, still so miraculously devoid of lines to show her age. Seven weeks short of fifty-five years old, and making my comparisons between the woman I know and the woman I see immortalised in photographs with my father, I see no difference, except maybe the happiness that glimmered in her eyes back then. I've never seen her look like that. Not once in my life. Because he was never part of it. But my mother, she is just as glamorous as she was back then, and I can see everything my dad fell in love with.

She's never let anyone else close. She's been alone for nineteen years. She says she isn't bothered, because she's Sharon Rickman, and she'll always wear her wedding ring with pride. When I was younger, I'd wish for her to fall in love again, just so I might see her smile away from this grave. She must be the only person in the world that is made happy to wander into a churchyard. You might think that I secretly wanted a new dad, but that desire left me long ago. 

Because I've never forgotten being sat here, staring at the lettering until his name, my name blurred into one and my eyes were itching. My ninth birthday, wondering as I had so many times before why my dad couldn't be with me like everybody else's. Wondering if he loved me at all. And my mum, so strong for all my life, had cried against me as she cuddled me, telling me he loved us more than anything but we just couldn't bring him back. So I knew then that I had a dad that loved me, knew never to forget it unless I wanted to see her cry again - and I knew, even way back then that I never did.

And that's why I wear my dad's wedding ring with such pride too. It has sat proudly on my right hand since I turned eighteen last month - and for the first time in my life, I've felt close to him, like the guy in all the photos that looks so much like me might actually be a part of me.

Mum gave it to me as she took me over to the Vic, determined to buy me my first legal drink before I went out with my mates and consumed two dozen more.

"C'mon then baby-" Anyone else would be embarrassed by being called "baby" by their mother at my age, but I've long understood what I meant to my parents, I'm resigned to forever being my mum's baby. It's cool. "-what you gonna have?"

I'd mulled over my options, a smirk rising in the corner of my mouth as I hit upon the perfect opener to my legality. "Vodka. No ice though, right?"

I'd tried to laugh, but I was stopped dead by my mum's look. She was stunned, shaking, biting down into her thumbnail.

"What?" I'd probe nervously. "Mum, tell me, what did I say?"

She'd smiled gently as she rested her hand on the bartop, wanting to dispel my building unease.

"Vodka... That's all your dad would ever drink." she'd said faintly. "No ice..."

"Oh. Right. You've... You've never told me that."

"I know." she'd agreed throatily, sounding so much she needs to cough, and I wondered... did she need to cry?

She'd looked away for a moment and as Lauren placed the filled glass on the bartop, and took the worn fiver left next to it for her, Mum dropped her hand into her pocket, rifling for something as she glanced back at me.

"I wasn't sure if I could let this go but..." She'd nodded towards my drink, smiling. "-now I know it belongs to you. Here."

And she'd given me his wedding ring. Just like that, when I knew how much it meant to her.

And now, she's swinging her bag off her shoulder, setting it on the ground. I nod in understanding, knowing why she's watching, what she waits for, because between the two of us, we decided it was fitting. There's no other way known to celebrate with my old man. I climb down to the ground, crossing my legs and straightening my back so I am in line with the headstone. I feel like I'm nine years old again, even though I've come back here countless times since that day.

Rifling in her bag, I take out the glass, setting it down on the ledge with a clunk. I return for the quart, mesmerised as I watch how the sunlight dances off the bottle, casting out light like it's a prism. I unscrew the cap, so wanting a mouthful just to steady my hands. God, she's right, I'm so damn like him - I'm gonna have the rest of the bottle for God's sake, but in true Rickman tradition, I want what I can never have.

Drawing in a deep breath, my throat tightens. Ack, fine time to be needing a fag. Just a few seconds more Rickman, c'mon.

I slosh the liquid liberally into the glass, in fact I think I might have given him a quintuple measure, but hell, whatever... can't do him any harm from the great big bookies in the sky now can it? Actually, that reminds me, I meant to put £30 on the 2:30...

I shake my head in disbelief, chuckling again. So much like him and I've never even met the guy.

"There you go Dad. Vodka... no ice... just the way we like it."

I fall back heavily, nursing the bottle as I stare dumbly at the headstone.

"Cheers."

Mum giggles as she hovers above me. Then she crouches down, leaning against the erect slab as she reaches over tugging the bottle from my hands.

"Happy birthday darlin'." she murmurs, toasting the glimmering lettering before raising the bottle to her lips. But as she drinks, her gaze slides to me, pulling my knees up to my chest and she pulls it back, setting it down and letting her brow crease in questioning.

"Dennis?"

But I don't move to answer. I just blow out a sigh between my lips as I stare intently at the glass.

"Y'know, some drunk's just gonna wander in here tonight and sink that?"

She raises her eyebrow, flapping her hands in defeat. "Oh go on then, drink it! But I want you to know I think it's disgusting you robbing your own dad's grave like this!" 

But as I grin, reaching forward to down it before she can change her mind, she bursts out laughing in spite of herself.

"You're too much like him, baby."

"You can never have too much of a good thing, Mum!" I inform her brightly, clicking my tongue in my cheek as I swirl the remnants of the liquid round.

"Oh God!" she cries despairingly, picking up her bag. "Look, I'm gonna go back to the car, leave you two to do the whole "man" thing for a bit... and I'll take that, thank you!"

Not missing a beat, she wrenches the bottle back from my devious hands. Damn, how is she always one step ahead of me?

Turning back to the grave, that soulful sadness returns to her eyes as she trails a kiss she presses to her fingertip across the lettering. "Love you."

Then she moves off down the path towards the gates. I turn back from watching her retreat, rubbing my hands eagerly together.

"Ah, Dad, she's gone - it's time for all the good bits! That is... if I got time-" Hurriedly I check my watch, smirking as I realise I have almost fifteen minutes to let him know every gory detail. "-cos I'm meeting Lucy at three right? Y'know, Lucy Beale? I haven't breathed a word of it to Mum, I get this feeling she'd chuck me in here with you if she knew what with it being Ian's daughter and all that, but God, I totally see how you went for Mum now... y'know, the whole older woman thing? Luce's like, I dunno... thirty? And she's amazing. Then there's Rebecca... twenty-four now she is. But the best? Oh... that would have to be Louise. Only cos it pisses off her old man. She came back to Walford couple of months back, wanted to find out if all that stuff about 'im was true. She's nearly twenty-three, dunno what took her so bloody long to make the trip, I mean, it ain't like Portugal's a world away is it? But yeah, she met him and she hates him, and it's great... seeing a Mitchell get old - really lost his touch. He used to try and look out for me, but Mum warned him off almost straight away... she felt like he was trying to be my dad, and hey, even from down there, you can't do any worse than Mitchell has for kids. But he hates my guts now. Sometimes I think it's cos I'm definitely your kid. Cos you made Mum happy when he screwed up so many times, but I think it's just cos I'm jumping his daughter. Ain't much in it, Lou and me - s'just sex, but... he caught us at it on the bar the other night, was so funny. In fact, I think she said we'd give it another go tonight. Sorry Dad, you know how it is, gotta run!"

29th October 2032

I left the house early to sneak to the graveyard. Darkness had fallen by about five, and it's bloody eerie stumbling between slanted gravestones in the pitch black. I hated this place enough in the day when I was little, but I'm not little anymore - I'm twenty-six years old for God's sake. I stop, laughing to myself. Dot Branning died when I was thirteen, and yet every chapter and verse of her faith had been rammed into me so hard by then that I can catch myself even now "using the Good Lord's name in vain" and I'm apologetic, wincing as I'm immediately reminded of the stern look she would have given me had she heard me say it. And maybe she did, she's buried here too, next to Jim and Ethel, so I can't even sneak in and be honest with my own dad without fearing there are other ears listening in to what I say.

"Bet she would had a go at you too Dad, huh?" 

My palm drifts over the worn stone of his headstone, and, with a groan, I sink down into a crouching position, smiling.

"It's only me. Been a while hasn't it?"

Guilt kicks as I realise it's been exactly two months - last time I came here was with Mum on their wedding anniversary. I never seem to allow my own time with him these days, I just muscle in on Mum's private moments, moments I can know nothing of. And all because otherwise I'd never drag my arse out of the gym, or the bookies to come see how he's doing. Pretty well for a dead guy I guess.

Gripping the stone to keep myself steady, I mumble apologetically; "I'd sit down, but I can't get mud over my arse. Not tonight."

The still night is all that answers me, the soft rumble of cars going past far off.

"Alright-" I sigh. "-I admit it, I want something."

I turn my head away, running my tongue nervously across my cracked lips as I consider my words. I'm talking to myself for God's sake and I think I have been since the moment I first sat here with Mum, but I have never seemed to give up hoping that my old man hears me from wherever he is these days.

"Mum said it'd happen, you know. She said I'd turn into you. And I have. I've bloody well gone and morphed into you, which means I've got all of five years before you'll have to shift your dust and make room for a little one. I hope that's where we're different Dad. Because I... y'know, like when you were a kid, well not a kid... older than me Mum says, you were shagging round, just cos you could? I got bored of that-" I wring my hands, feeling the anxiety build. "-I wanted it to mean something, just for once, yeah? And... I think I found her. The one that makes it mean something? You know, like you did?"

Silence. But I know he understands what I mean. Because that's why I'm here right now. Because my mum was the One for him. And she still says she only ever needed the One. There ain't another out there, she says. I never used to believe her, but... now...

"Dad... when you proposed to Mum, how did you know it was... I dunno.... right?"

I smirk. He ain't gonna answer that one, I know it. Because he never proposed to Mum because he wanted to get married. In fact, their engagement was the result of an argument they had about not wanting to get married. God, they're so twisted.

"Leesh's been with Mum and Demi all day again... they went down Oxford Street on their cards. She said it was for her birthday, but I swear, they go shopping everytime they see each other. Y'know... the other week I had to put up another wardrobe in the flat just for her bloody shoes? Mum and Demi were a fat lot of help, they went back over to the house and stuffed their faces with Milk Tray all afternoon. Leesh knew better than to offer me a hand, so she went over there too. And when I arrived... I dunno if they saw me, but..."

I'd found them all curled up around the coffee table, this shoebox open in front of them. I know it well. It's filled with all the tiny stupid things that will remind Mum of Dad. She'll get it out on all the important days, and she'll tell me all the daft stories surrounding each little thing. And I always listen with such a grin on my face, because even though I've been listening to these stories since before I could talk, and she was having to stop ramming that fake engagement ring in my mouth, I can never get tired of being told them again. They mean so much to me.

And for the two years I've been seeing Aleesha, she's become just as mesmerised by them. Like both our parents before us, the two of us work because we're so alike. OK, so she spent time with her dad, but it's nothing she remembers. All she knows is the misery of growing up alongside a lonely mother.

Demi was still so young when Leo died though. She had so many chances to move on. Leesh says there were other men, some that might have even made her mum happy. But her heart's always been with Leo. My mum relates to that, even though there's such a difference in their ages, the way they each felt the love they've lost. I mean, Mum was twenty-one when Demi was born, old enough to be her mum too. And when they were last on this Square together, Mum would have seen a child, burdened with her own child. But since Demi came back with Aleesha to live with Darren three years ago, they've become the greatest friends. And that's what brought me and Aleesha together.

And if there was ever a moment in my life to feel like my father, then that was it. Falling so hard in love with the perfectness she is, knowing I couldn't get through a whole day without holding her, hearing her voice, kissing her hair. I finally understood what it was in my mum that made Dad break away from that whole brother/sister rubbish, how he could have loved her so fiercely to dare. Cos I'd do anything for Leesh.

But there's this one moment I need help with. And somehow, only my dad can help me out.

"Dad... what would you think if... if I asked Aleesha to marry me? It sounds... crazy to say it I know, but I love her. I love her just like you love Mum. I just... don't know how to... ask."

I laugh quietly to myself, crunching my knuckles.

"Yeah, anyway... like I said, it's her birthday today... twenty-eight. Yeah I know... another older woman, I know, I was kinda hoping you might approve of that bit. I'm gonna take her out and... God, I never planned to do this.... maybe I should just do what you did eh? Pick a fight with her over the parfait! But I..."

But I sat with Mum, Demi & Aleesha around that coffee table this afternoon, and I listened to the stories all over again. How he'd given her that bracelet a couple of months after he rolled up in Walford. I've spent so much time studying this thing, and it's about the only thing in the whole box that I don't feel coulda come from my dad. Because I can never believe in the inscription. He was hiding in a lie of their relation, crawling deeper into it with my mum to protect her for the daunting realisation that they could never be brother and sister.

There's the pink plastic ring he pulled out of a Christmas cracker, ready to leg it to New York with Mum when his soddin' slut of a girlfriend pretended she was pregnant, to tear them apart. I'm so fuckin' glad they didn't win. Because I put in my appearance and even if they don't know it, even if my dad don't know it, he proved them all wrong. He was the infatuated little boy that could give her something as tacky as that and pour all his love into it, in such a way that made her hold on to it, believing in it for all these years she's been alone.

"Oh Dad!" I mutter hotly, not knowing whether I'm just despondent or whether I'm daring to scold him. "Why did you have to leave her on her own eh? Why? I came through didn't I? It didn't matter what Johnny pissin' Allen did to her, I'm here and so's she! And she's so fuckin' lonely. I can't stand to look at her sometimes cos I see it in her eyes. She needs you and where the fuck are you eh? Both of us need you... sometimes I think she's only still breathing cos I'm here... cos I'm your boy. But I don't know what that means do I? Cos I ain't a boy anymore and I never belonged to anyone... I never had my old man. I miss you, and I don't even know you... all I've got is a bunch of photos and what's in that bloody box!"

There's the "pretend" engagement ring he bought her. I can see Leesh being just as amused by a stunt like that. My girl has class, and just like Mum, I know she'd be lusting over the diamond. But at least he kept his promise. And the only one I've made so far as that, somehow, I will have gotten the words out before midnight - and maybe... just maybe convinced her that she wants to say yes.

And she'll want an engagement ring like Mum really got, that's in the box too. An order of service from their wedding. I can't believe they were only married for four months. And I can't believe it only took my dad four weeks of his married life to get his apparantly infertile wife pregnant. Sometimes I like to kid myself that I might heard him murmuring excitedly to me while I was in the womb, to believe I mighta shared in some of the happiness Mum insists he felt at knowing they were going to have me. But I know it's only a delusion. I just hate that I was there, with my mum and my dad, together, for almost three months, and all I was was a fuckin' foetus. I don't know any of it.

But he did. Cos there's the first scan of me. And Mum says they were cuddled up on the backseat of a cab all the way back from the hospital to the Square, and they giggled like kids, hardly believing that the little arms and the flailing legs were part of a little person they'd made together. Something, at last, so wanted for the both of them. So yeah, I'm proud to be Dennis Rickman's son, but I ain't proud to have met my mother a widow. And I've never been able to totally ignore the way I blame him for that.

"You know what Dad?" I sigh as I push myself up, this whir of crazy thoughts somehow settling in my addled brain. "I don't know what I'm doing here, I don't know why I wanted your help... I ain't gonna be like you. And you know how I know that? Cos I could never hurt Leesh the way you hurt my mum, I never will. I ain't gonna make false promises. I'll be the one that means it when I say forever, cos I'm gonna be there when my kids are born, and I'll never leave them talking to a fuckin' grave!"

30th October 2032
I hang back, letting my heels sink with the damp earth. "I don't think I can do this."

Aleesha steps back to level with me as she clasps my tremoring hand; sympathy holding the muscles in her face, even as a reproach like my mother's burns in her eyes. "What's he gonna do to you Dennis huh?"

I hunch my shoulders, shrugging like a child, my wide eyes travelling frightfully up over the cemetry gates. Aleesha smiles softly and steps up close to me and kisses my neglected mouth.

"He's just your dad." she whispers pointedly. "Besides... I wouldn't mind saying hi to the bloke today. So if he fancies leaping outta the grave to give you a good kicking for being... well, just like him, then I'll be there OK? C'mon..."

Trust Leesh to be the one to show me what a prat I act sometimes. It's just... I feel bad. I was outta line yesterday. But I'm a Rickman, and I guess that those words were... the pride before the fall. And I can't fall, I can't. Because that's the whole reason I blew up yesterday. My dad's fall. He let his pride get in the way of going to America with my mum, with me. And cos of that, he's been in a hole underground my whole damn life. That's what I resent. Not my dad. I love my dad. I do.

"Dennis, is that a footprint?"

Shame burns as I sidle up to the grave. "Yeah." I confess as she crouches horrified, examining the mark I left on the stone in my anger - again, apparantly so much like the man I'd give anything to know.

She rolls her eyes in despair, pulling her sleeve over her fist and scrubbing fiercely at the stone. "Bet you weren't anything like this were you Dennis?"

"He bloody was!" I scoff, sinking down next to her, pulling her hand back and fighting to push mine into her sleeve and lace our fingers together, before I at last turn back to the grave. "Weren't you Dad?"

Aleesha seems amused by the silence, but gives me a deep look as it passes awkwardly by. "Tell him."

"Which bit?" I enquire quietly, gnawing guiltily at my lip.

She squeezes my hand. "Whichever. Just... say them both yeah?"

I nod, knowing that as ever, she's right. I'd be so lost without her, I barely know who I am without her. It worries me how much my mum and dad, how much like Leesh's parents we are. Young, in love... doomed to fail, to be torn apart. So we're holding on, with everything we have between us. We daren't let go, cos we've both grown up haunted by what we might become.

And yet the smile can't help but creep up across my lips. "Leesh said yes Dad - we're gonna get married."

"Must be summat in you Rickmans." she says softly to the stone. "I mean, Dennis bagged Sharon on the promise of what... the free pens?"

"That was the one." I laugh, nodding. "Was a killer pitch Dad, y'know that?"

"Mmmm. So what do I get by saying I'll marry you huh?"

"I told you that last night..."

"Oh!"

Laughing gently, she reaches in her coat pocket for her wallet and hands me a crumpled fiver, steadily flushing scarlet as she recognises she has reached over the grave to give it to me.

"Well-" I tell her, clearing my throat as I stow it away in my jeans. "-that covers last night..."

She colours brighter but the amusement is there, that smile daring to break out across her cerise lips.

"...we just need to find a jar."

I nod. "I know we're not exactly married yet Dad, but Leesh reckons it'll be a good way to save for the wedding!"

"Was one of the many reasons I couldn't say no to your son Dennis, it's usually me on my knees. God, the stories I've heard from Sharon about that jar... "

I grimace as I catch sight of the glimmer in her mesmerising eyes. "Seriously, I don't need to think about my mum and dad... at it."

"Well, think yourself lucky it's only thinking about it. Nan says that when Sharon & Dennis moved into number twenty-nine, they'd hear them at it, any time of the day or night-"

"Stop!" I plead, almost crying for mercy through the laughter.

"Why? It's only sex, it's natural..."

"Yeah, but what ain't natural is that my in-laws can tell me what my mother sounded like when my dad was - eurgh, no!"

In the next moment, Aleesha's whole look changes. Her smile drops from her glossy lips and they twist. Sadness falls like a veil in her big, bright eyes. She looks like my mum has done since the day my dad died. And worse, there's this flare I can't quite recognise... but it looks like jealousy.

"Darlin'?" I murmur nervously, carefully turning round to press my other hand into her, to steady her as she shivers in the wind beating against us. She snivels apologetically and the way she wipes her eyes tells me of tears she doesn't want me to know are there.

"I'm just being stupid..."

"You know you can't say that to me Leesh. I get it, remember? So tell me..."

The breath she draws in to speak quivers precariously. "Was just... you saying about... your mum and dad, I mean, they're your parents, course it creeps you out thinking about it, but at least it meant something to them. You're here for a reason... cos Sharon & Dennis loved each other so bloody much-"

"Hey, you know Demi & Leo loved each other!"

"But they were kids, Dennis, kids. They didn't have a kid together because they wanted one... they just... had sex once and hello!" She waves her hand miserably. I bow my head, smiling weakly as I run my thumb tenderly across her frozen fingers. "And you know, all the time they were sneaking round, when Mum was taking me to meet him, if they were alone, she says they never... so it was just the once. I'm not saying they shoulda done, Jesus, no... but at least with your mum and dad it meant something, that's all I'm saying. I mean, I'm just... one, huge mistake."

"Has Demi ever said that to you?"

"Don't be stupid." she mutters, giving me a dark look. But I rebuff it, shaking my head in disbelief.

"It's not me that's being stupid is it, you said so yourself!"

She lifts her chin defiantly, making the tracks her tears have made on her face obvious in the dull light. "Then explain the soddin' footprint."

I shrug. Aleesha knows me well enough to not need it explaining. Cos I know she understands. "I was angry. Gonna come and ask you to... and he wasn't even here to know it, to be proud of me, of us, Leesh. He just wasn't here!"

Sensing my frustration as I inevitably curl my palm into an angered fist, Leesh catches it and straightens it out, holding fiercely on.

"I know, Dennis. Believe me baby, I know. But you gotta remind yourself why he ain't here."

"Because he was a selfish, pig-headed-"

She cuts off my bitter suggestion, leaping in there to remind me of the truth before I say something else I regret.

"Because he thought enough of his wife and child to show the cowardly bastard who got his kicks outta threatening pregnant women that he was a force to be reckoned with!"

I nod, but I won't really believe it, feeling the angry, regretful tears burn in my eyes. "He was dead within the hour Leesh."

"I know." she whispers sadly, wrapping her arms around me and letting her head flop heavily onto my shoulder, her hair tickling my cheek. "But he had his honour, he had your mum's arms around him, and he knew he was gonna have you."

Idly stroking her shoulder, I tell her that; "Leo had your mum..."

"Mmmm, and he also had a needle in his arm. He died because he was a scared and stupid little kid, but who can blame him eh? Could you have had a one year old kid when you were fifteen cos I know I couldn't. But I just... Dennis died cos some washed up gangster took exception to him actually caring about his family. He was trying to protect you and Sharon, admittedly he was going a shite way about it, but hey, who am I to talk; my dad was selling heroin when he was fourteen for fuck's sake!"

"He was one of the good guys Leesh, don't forget that."

"No." she agrees, tilting her head and kissing my shoulder. "Then you ain't gonna either. You know you can't kick the good guys while they're down! Your son's sorry Dennis, he's really sorry... aren't you baby?"

"Yeah." I confess quietly, feeling inwardly crippled by how guilty I rightfully feel. "I didn't mean it Dad, I'm sorry, it's just so damn hard. S'like, Mum's practically drawing her pension these days, and that's so fuckin' long to be lonely. I just... I want you to be here for all of us, Mum, Leesh, Vicki & me. But, they're all changing and you can't. Couple of years time and I'm gonna be the same age as you... married, with kids maybe, and I don't wanna be in your shoes, not like this. I get scared. I get up every morning, look in the mirror and I see you, without even really knowing who it is I'm looking at - and you can't make it any better cos you ain't here... I dunno what I'm reckoning you'd do if you were, I just know you'd... do it y'know? Maybe it's cos Mum'd smile, like she is in all the photos? I just wanna see Mum smile Dad... but I'm sorry, I'm so sorry - I never meant it!"

Gripping the edge of the headstone so tight my knuckles drain of colour, I curl up against it, really sobbing. It don't really register that Leesh is there to watch me, crying like the child I've never really given up being, just waiting for my dad to come home. The tears pour down, burning my stinging cheeks. Each sob makes me chest tighter and tighter and I choke rather than breathe. I'm broken, and worse, there's someone here to see it. I never wanted to admit to being this way. Not to Leesh. I wanted to be strong, but...

"Oh... sweetheart!" And I feel her scrabble across the grave, perhaps crawling over my dad's body to curl up beside me, wrapping herself so protectively around me as she pulls me down into her arms. "Dennis, it's OK. He knows! Oh, c'mere... shhh, I'm here, I am. And I'm so proud of you..."

"I m...m...miss him!"

"I know. I know it hurts baby. Oh... I miss my dad too... I know..."

And I feel her own tears slide off her face into my hair, crying so helplessly as we rock together, clinging to each other, wasting another day in the graveyard, grieving for these two souls, these parts of each of us we're just never gonna know. What did we do wrong?

29th August 2033
"Happy anniversary darlin'."

I turn my head, smiling sadly at Dennis and Aleesha. The corners of their lips rise. They understand. And I hate so much that the both of them have been made to understand such agony from the moment they could. No-one should have to suffer a life without a parent.

Stepping cautiously towards me, Aleesha hands me the bouquet she has held so carefully in her perfect hands all morning.

"Please Sharon... take it."

I stare dumbly at the roses. Then I shake my head slowly. "No, sweetheart, no. If it's gonna go anywhere, they should go to your dad."

"No. He got my mum's lot. Please? Seeing as me & Dennis hijacked your day?"

My smile feels happier upon my lips now. So I reach over and I take it, untying them and pushing the stems into the holder.

"We don't mind do we darlin'? Oh it was so beautiful... everything." I murmur warmly to the stone, looking up fleetingly from my occupation. "Our son... married. On our wedding day too. Been a bit of a bitch... these last 28 years haven't they? Maybe it's just as well I won't see another 28 eh?"

"Uh, excuse me - you cannot talk like that!"

"She's right Mum... we're meant to be happy today."

"Oh I am son. I'm so happy." He smiles at me doubtfully as he crouches down alongside me. "You've made me so proud." I reach and draw him to me, kissing his cheek. My gaze travels up Aleesha's beautiful scarlet gown, the hem of which is caked with mud thanks to the trek from the church to here. "I just wish Dennis could have been here to see you both."

Aleesha gives me a sympathetic look as she reaches down and steals up her husband's hand.

"Us too Sharon."

"He'd have laughed y'know." I say, pointedly nodding at my son. "Just like him... not so much "kiss your bride" as "snog her face off" right? I remember, when we got married, Pauline... she was sat there going "He doesn't have to drag it out that long!" But he did, cos I wanted him too and as "the wife" Leesh, you make sure you get everything you want out of my son OK?"

She smirks. "I intend to Sharon, don't panic."

I nod, bowing my head and wondering whether I should get up and go pay Pauline a visit. She's been dead 27 years now, and she's another one neither the bride or groom can remember. Even now, I'm not entirely sure how I feel about Pauline and I'm sure that'd make my husband delirious. Oh, and I'd let it, just to have him here. But... Pauline, she lied about having a brain tumour. And that, even now, is still too close to home for me. And it's not even as though she did it for the reasons my mum did - to keep her husband away from other women; she did it to stop Martin being happy with Sonia and I can't imagine ever wanting to cause such misery to my son, my baby. I'm so glad he and Aleesha have each other. I miss that feeling so much, but I could never resent it, not when my son is at last happy when he has been sad for so long.

"She looks beautiful Dennis." I whisper tenderly to the headstone. "Aleesha-"

She scoffs. "What this? Nah, just threw it on!" 

We laugh. God, that feels so good. I know Dennis would have laughed too.

"She's gonna make our baby so happy." 

Nodding solemnly, Aleesha swings Dennis' hand, at last letting him pull her, crouching down next to him.

"I promise I will. Cos it means something being a Rickman don't it eh?"

"Everything."

"Well, I can't exactly let the in-laws down can I?" She turns her head and smiles warmly at the stone. "Happy anniversary Dennis - s'a good day."

"The best." my son adds, leaning over and kissing her.

"Y'know... he thought I'd jilted him? Cos I was like, five minutes late?"

As she rolls her eyes, making me grin, Dennis cries out indignantly; "Don't listen to her Dad, it was fifteen. Oh c'mon, I mean, Mum's been coaching her since the moment we met."

"Are you bad-mouthing me to your dad?" I demand in mock horror. "That's it then innit? "Well cheers Mum, thanks so much for all those years of unconditional love, the nine hours of childbirth... the blood, the sweat"-"

"Yeah, alright." Dennis laughs, raising his palms to stop the sting of my tirrade. "But you've gotta admit, you've never been on time for anything."

"My wedding day." I say immediately. "See, my problem was, I'd been waiting so long, I couldn't wait to marry your dad Dennis, but Aleesha... she's wiser than that... I was able to let her know exactly what she's letting herself in for seeing as the only difference between you and your dad was-"

"Right hook. Did you know that Dad flattened Phil Mitchell on his first night in Walford, Leesh?"

Aleesha gasps, and like everyone before her, admiration burns in her eyes. "Never? Oh that's brilliant. Chose well over here didn't I?" 

"It's nothing to be proud of!"

"But Dennis is my father-in-law, I've gotta be proud - on his behalf!"

"Christ, you've got her well-trained haven't you baby?"

"Dad would love her wouldn't he?" Dennis smirks back as Aleesha nestles happily into him, basking in the compliment.

"Y'know what? I really think he would..."

26th December 2033
Hearing me shiver, Dennis steps around Aleesha, sliding his arm around me as we walk the long ago memorised path to his father's grave. It's barely half past five and yet it's already completely dark. I don't like to come here when it's dark. I never have. If it's dark, there's no chance of recalling my little boy squealing as he played with his auntie in the middle of all the misery. Darkness preys on the mind, it brings out the most frightening thoughts... the ones you always manage to smile your way through in the light of day. Darkness makes me feel so sickeningly lonely, and I'll cry into my one pillow, wishing for the embrace I've missed for almost thirty years.

I hate that my son... Dennis' son has been forced to share these agonies for all his life. I hate that every time he sees that tears have formed, he'll try his best to soothe them away. But he never can. For his twenty-seven years, my son refuses to admit that even he can make it no better. And I hate that his wife knows the pain too. But today, as she walks alongside Dennis, clutching his hand, I am so happy that they cannot help but smile.

I move on, crouching at Dennis' headstone as our son devotes his embrace to his shivering wife.

"I'm sorry we didn't make it here yesterday baby." I run a kiss pressed into my fingertip across the lettering, hoping that somehow he'll feel my apology.

"It's not her fault Dad... me and Leesh kinda kept her away."

"We didn't mean to." Aleesha laughs nervously as she and Dennis crouch down alongside of me. "But I... wasn't well."

"And it wasn't my cooking either Dad!"

I laugh dryly. "He thought it was... but we know different don't we darlin'?"

"Isn't he just the most gorgeous example of salmonella?"

As Dennis swipes at Aleesha, she giggles and ducks.

"Love you, baby." she whispers. It's not hard recognising a girl wriggling off the hook.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he bundles her into his arms. And it makes me so happy to see them happy. There's just... this feeling, this sickening feeling... no... I mustn't.

"Who's gonna spell it out for him then?"

And there they are. Grinning like a couple of kids. Aleesha looks expectantly to Dennis, tremoring as she giggles so quietly, and he leans in, kissing her quickly and loving that this moment falls to him.

"We're having a baby, Dad. Leesh is pregnant."

"We found out yesterday."

But it is right then I find I cannot smile. Because I remember that experience so well. Being so afraid I was ill, poisoned, maybe even dying. But Dennis was right there with me, worrying, loving me, and I... I pushed him away, I blamed him. Blamed him. For the gift of the child I never thought I'd have - our child. And at that realisation, there was so much love between the two of us, everything was right, absolutely everything was worthwhile. It was the greatest Christmas. But then I lost him... the father of my child, loving our baby to his last breath, never to know a breath of his son's. And I'd give anything to relive our last Christmas, right down to the sniping if it were to be that I couldn't change a moment of it. I would still choose to live it forever, just to know he was there. 

And I so wish we might have shared another day like that, with our son, his wife and the promise of their child, because I know he'd have been just as thrilled, as elated as he was when I told him we were to have our son. And now our baby is having his own baby.

"He'd be so proud of you both."

"We know." Dennis nods, smiling as I cock my head in questioning. "He told me. I just listened really hard."

And the smile I wanted to feel at last breaks out. Dennis was just nine years old when I told him that was the way to never lose his daddy. Cos his daddy had always meant to be here - he was never going to really leave. And still, he knows that. The rush of love overwhelms me and tears burn in my eyes. As I give into the comfort of my sobs, Aleesha dutifully wraps her arms around me as I cry.

"Oh Sharon...."

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Just... talk to us."

I shake my head. I can't say these words, not to them, not today. Christ, there has been enough hurt. There is just too much.

"Look after my son Aleesha. Never let him go, please! For me!"

I can see through my veil of tears, however distorted everything is that she's looking to Dennis, hoping he understands. I pray he doesn't.

"Oh... Mum! It's alright! Nothing... Nothing's going to happen to me!"

"You have to be there for your baby Dennis. Please... no more pain!"

He pushes himself and walks around the grave, winding himself around me too, rocking me. "We're not gonna let anything hurt you Mum... are we Leesh?"

"Never."

"Look, maybe we should go... go get you a stiff drink or summat eh?"

"No! No..." I pull away from them both, wiping my streaming eyes vigorously. "Please, just give me a moment with your dad eh? I'll catch you up... first round should be on me."

"Well..." Aleesha begins doubtfully, her gaze once again straying to Dennis who looks just as convinced. "...OK."

And they move slowly off, looking over their shoulder for every step they take away from me, and I just know they want to rush back. But I force myself to smile, however crushed I feel. I need to be alone, even in the darkness.

I can hear them, panicked whispers reaching me.

"Oh Dennis, you have to understand... Christmas Day... New Year's Eve... she remembers it all every year and it hurts her!"

"But I'm not gonna.... I won't leave her."

"That don't matter baby. You're all she's got left of your dad. She's going to be scared..."

"I am." I whisper meekly to the grave as their voices die away with their footsteps. I idly toy with the wedding ring on my finger. "Oh darlin', I'm so scared."

I can almost hear him say "There's nothing to be scared of Sharon, I'm right here aren't I?" and if I close my eyes, I can just about feel the luscious protection of his arms around me. But even then, even my husband could not rid me of this fear and unease. I haven't spoken a word of it - it was Christmas for God's sake, and then... being sat in that hospital, finding out about Dennis and Aleesha's baby... how could I? A mother would never be so cruel. 

Dennis is the only one that can know, and that is simply because he is no longer here. If he were, I would suffer alone, perhaps to the coldness of my own grave.

"Our first grandchild eh? Fantastic isn't it?" I force himself to smile at the night, not really knowing why since there is really no-one here to appreciate my pretence. "I can just imagine you as a granddad... what am I saying? No I can't. Cos you're still so young and beautiful. And me... never knew I'd be a mother before I met you did I baby huh? So I've wrinkled... I look the part, doesn't mean I know how to be a grandparent. Oh..." A new hot wave of tears race forward. "...Dennis, why is this happening to me?"

But he cannot know, because I'd never have been brave enough to let him know. Here, I talk only to darkness, to stone and to the cruelty of death. And maybe it is not just his.

My throat is tight with the unwillingness of my confession. Were he still here to hold me, I would have kept silent. Because I think I might have broken him with such words. He'd have been just as scared.

"I... I found a lump.... weeks ago, when- when I was in the shower. Thought it was nothing but I went to the doctor and he... sent me for tests. Tests." I repeat bitterly. "You remember them don't you darlin'? They want me back at the hospital, New Year's Eve. Such a miserable fuckin' day... twenty-eight years since I lost you...and I know they're gonna say... what if one of the tests comes back positive too? Because it's-" I shiver in repulsion at the biting winter winds howling around me, biting at my face, my soul... "-it's not gonna be good news this time. Please... tell me you know what's gonna happen to me because I'm so frightened. Am I... Am I coming home darlin'?"  

31st December 2033
I stare at the smeared screen of my mobile, my raw hands shaking.

The offer's still there Mum. Come with us! Please? Love Dennis, Leesh and beanie x

God love 'em, they're trying so much to make it sound like they want me with them tonight. But I'm not a fool. Oh... maybe I am. A lonely fool and that is where this invitation comes from. My son being so painfully aware how the dawn on each new year hurts me, reminding me with the every taunting stroke of the celebratory clock how I lay on the damp, potholed streets curled around the motionless, bloody form of my lover, my promise, my life.

And now, more sickened than any year before, I know there is no chance of escaping those images. I will give my baby and his family the chance for a happy new year. My chances are all gone. I know the truth now.

My breath smoking on the biting air surrounding me, I sit contained on the cold and clammy surface of Dennis' grave. And I am silent for so long as the night blackens steadily. I can barely breathe, I am so cold. I am there, rocking backwards and forwards as I shiver. But nowhere in the world can offer me warmth now. Not tonight, not ever.

"How can it still hurt so much baby? Won't you make it better?"

I wince, irritated at how these words sound as they leave my mouth.

"Oh, but you couldn't." I scoff, pulling my coat tighter around me. "Because if you were still here, I wouldn't... I couldn't. How would I tell you this? Oh Dennis, tell me how you'd take it darlin'. Cos I need you so much."

I sit, tracing the word Husband upon the stone with a finger so frozen, I feel nothing. Numb in my reality. Lost to the finality of my truth.

Sighing so heavily, my chest constricts and makes me wince, I quietly confess. "One of them was positive. The... The tests. I... I have cancer."

I release my next breath slowly, steadily.

"You know what's really pathetic? I don't care. I thought I was scared but I... I don't care. Dennis... he has his own life now. He has done for the last ten years. That's when mine was over. I'd done all I was ever meant to do. I raised our son. I don't wanna be on my own anymore. But..." I gulp back my next words guiltily. "...I know what you'd say to me. If I ever... saw you cry then we'd be... kissing each other's tears away and you'd tell me I have to fight. But darlin', I... I miss your kisses so much. What is there to fight for now? I don't even like what time has done to me, how am I meant to cope with cancer?"

I slump forward onto my knees, my hands wound shakily together in an anxious imitation of prayer, my eyes darting between the gravestone and the stars.

"Please... don't make me do this. I can't do this. I'm no good without you - I don't wanna be without you. He... Dennis'd understand... he knows where I'll be... I'll be with you. Please... oh darlin' please don't leave me here with this."

Hot tears burn across my eyes. I hate how many tears I have cried here. Without my son, I would have lain in the ground, wound eternally in Dennis' arms the moment he left me. I never wanted to be alone. I shake so viciously as I sob, my muscles prove too painful for me to even remain sitting straight. I curl up like a child terrified in their bed. Except I make my bed on my husband's grave. And I have no intention of leaving.

I shiver instinctively against the cold, the misery of the silence when all I need is to hear my darlin' say he is with me. I bite down into my thumb, never taking my eyes from the wedding ring that has sat upon my finger for twenty-eight years without purpose.

"What am I supposed to tell our baby?" I choke, the dewey grass tickling at my chilled earlobe as I shake my head, never understanding... never understanding any of the blows the cruelty of this life has dealt both me and my son. "Tell me how I tell him I- I just... I want to die. Please... sweetheart, take me with you now, I'm begging you. Save the pain. Save his. Don't leave me here. Don't you dare leave me here."

1st January 2034
"Dennis, please baby calm down!"

I can't help but fling her touch away as I rush on, the every muscle in my legs feeling unbelievably painful, like we've chased across the face of the earth, searching for her. I barely have the voice to beg for my mother I have called her name so much. And all there is is that suffocating regret. Because if I don't find her, if any harm has come to her, tonight of all nights, my dad is never to forgive me and for that, I will never forgive myself. I never meant to let him down.

"You know we tried."

"Well, we didn't try hard enough! How do we even know she got my message? I shoulda called, I should have gone round! We shouldn't... I can't leave her on her own on New Year's Eve Leesh, you know I can't."

"She's not a child Dennis. You know she hates... she just wants the chance to be Sharon."

"But that's my mum!" I choke tearfully, the realisation that that was all beautiful, wounded Sharon Rickman ever wanted to be. She only ever wanted to be my mum. And I've let her down so badly. Leaving her to her misery on the one night she needs to be reminded that I am there, the one achievement to mark her many years of loneliness. "Leesh, where's my mum?"

She looks at me with such panic and my stomach twists over itself. Because she knows as much as I do.

"What ti-?"

Her words trail off, the both of us wincing as the clock on the church tower strikes one.

Then my wife gasps. "One o'clock - Dennis, it's been an hour! Your dad died at midnight right?"

"Yeah." I confirm miserably. "Twenty nine fuckin' years- Leesh?"

"C'mon!" she yells, racing up to the locked cemetry gates.

"You're crazy... how are we meant...?"

"Where else is she gonna be Dennis huh? She needs to be with your dad right now... right then."

"But..." I so want to believe she's right. Why else did we find ourselves here? We must know it's the only place, but as I look at the domaineering gates, so tall, so uninviting, so closed, I can't help but think we're wrong. She can't possibly be here but that can only mean worse things. "What are you doing?"

Aleesha is almost three months pregnant and still she can manage, with a lot of groaning at the effort of such an exertion, to push herself through the gaps in the railings. And without a word as she tears her gaze from my fervent face, she races down the path and soon I have lost her too to the darkness. Oh God, what will I do?

I slump, crying my bitter tears so quietly against the gates, crashing into them, scaring myself in my already present terror at the sound. I look up at the night sky, luminated by endless fireworks that tell of the rest of the world celebrating New Year, despite the cold, the damp, the flakes of snow that pour pitifully down as they have for hours, never wanting anyone to forget the chill they present. I swallow another guilty lump to have risen in my throat.

"Oh Dad-" I beg, coughing. "-please say she's OK. Say you're looking after her. I still need her, she's my mum and I- I'm so sorry! Just bring her home."

But my father, as ever, offers only the cruelty of silence. Oh why will he never speak?

I realise how lonely I feel all at once. I shiver as the snow flakes tumble down my neck, melting as they meet burning skin, burning in this panic, this frenzy. Oh my poor mother. What have I done? Why was I not there? It's not like I don't know what day it is, how she would be feeling. She's been like this ever since Christmas, understandably. Distant and reclusive because she's frightened. And I somehow don't think me and Leesh finding out about our baby on Christmas Day helped her. She thinks history is about to repeat itself. But here I am, a full hour into the new year; living, breathing and thankfully with no known enemies.

My mother is her own enemy. It has been that way for the every lonely breath she's taken without my dad beside her. And I, I don't know if she lives and breathes. I know nothing.

"Dennis!" 

Aleesha, panting at the painful force with which she has emerged from the night, slams into the gate.

"What?" I press, breathless too with the fear. "Is she there?"

Her face flushed, struggling to pull in breaths, Aleesha leans against her knees, her bunches slapping at her shoulders as she nods repeatedly.

"You... have to... come..."

"Well-" I grip the railings, shaking them furiously. "-how?"

"Dennis!" she growls irritably. "I'm pregnant for f*ck's sake and if I can do it... just c'mon."

And when I read the panic in her face, I feel sick. Nothing else matters, I have to go to my mum. Forcing myself through the railings, I stumble. Aleesha just gasps appreciatively and grabs my hand, pulling me forward at a pace that crucifies me but will be forgiven instantly, if I can just find my...

"Mum!"

Aleesha crashes to my mum's side, leaning down to her ear and pushing her hair away from her face, shaking millions of tiny snowflakes free.

"Sharon?" she says urgently, shaking her a little. "Sharon?! It's Leesh. I'm back. C'mon, c'mon, you have to wake up now."

I can't believe what I'm seeing. My mum... without being my mum. She's... a body. So still. Curled up on my dad's grave. His grave. And she let the snow fall on top of her. She felt the chill, she heard the New Year ring in, and she chose to stay with him. Bones, a memory. She looks as though the snow were to be her blanket, like she was just meant to be forgotten. And I... the one person that still matters to her, so nearly forgot her.

"Leesh? Is she...?" Oh God, I can't say it.

"No." she answers sternly. "No, she's not. She was talking... just now. But she's out of it... the cold..."

"Well... we have to get her to hospital!"

Blanching her lip, uncertainty in her eyes, Aleesha nods, pushing herself up and pulling her mobile from her pocket.

It's not that she doesn't think I'm right, of course I am. It's just.... my mum. My gorgeous mum. Why has it come to this... why now? Have all these years finally driven her over the edge? She is a child and it's tearing me up. I want my strong mum back, I want her to still have the will inside her. But to see her now, I know it isn't there. Perhaps it died the moment I was born. I have been her only purpose for almost thirty years, and what have I done to her? I've half-killed her.

"Am-Ambulance! St. Mary's.... the church. My- My mother-in-law's.... collapsed in the churchyard. Please... I... I don't know how long she's been here and it's snowing and... she's cold and she's not making much sense. Look... the gates are locked... we don't know what to do..."

"Mum? Mum, it's me. It's Dennis. I'm here now, but what are you... oh, why wouldn't you just come with Leesh and me? Mum, please talk to me!"

I see her tremor. Hope dares to flicker. I press my hand into her arm. She cries out, as if she's in pain as she throws me off. 

"Leave me alone!"

"Mum!"

The way she speaks to me tells me she wishes she could shout, yell and really make me feel the force of her anger. But she has been left with nothing but a vicious croak and this display of vulnerability hurts all the more. I want my strong mum back. I want Sharon Rickman back.

"I won't go."

"Dennis!" Aleesha says hurriedly, pulling her phone from her ear. "We're gonna have to carry her over the wall... they say they can only get outside."

"I'll do it." I assure her immediately.

But as I move to touch my mother, to gather her in my arms and protect her, care for her as I know my dad would have done, without thought, without hesitation, driven only by that love, she screams. In this hollow way that means her voice cracks. Aleesha gags on her misery, stumbling back and pressing her hand to her mouth to suppress her sobs as she watches. I can't believe we've been reduced to this. I'll never understand why. And I'll never be able to blame my mother for hating me but... I love her... I love her so much.

"Mum, please!" I beg, by now on my knees crying beside her, blinded by this veil of utter devestation. "We have to get you to hospital!"

"You can't take me away!" she howls, clawing at the earth desperately. "Only your dad! He's going to come for me.... I have to stay. I want to stay. I can't face the pain. He won't let me. He loves me... I'll be with him... I'll be with my darlin'... tonight!"

"No Sharon..." Aleesha sniffles, collapsing next to her and once again stroking my mother's cheek; perhaps a friend, never forcing her. "...not yet. You're only a young thing aren't you eh?"

But she whimpers to the contrary. "I'm tired. And I just... I wanna sleep in his arms tonight."

"Why... Mum, why are you talking like this? Is it because we...?"

"I have cancer!"

Those three words took everything out of my mum; for the first time in her life looking so painfully old and fragile. And they take everything out of Aleesha and me, making us choke and splutter in our reluctance to hear them.

"I'm dying Dennis." she rasps, and oh, it sounds like it, her voice so barely there. "I can feel it. I don't wanna be eaten away - I'd rather just die. Right here. I just want your dad to take me home!"

27th May 2034
Slipping past the cemetry gates, I can't help but stumble. I'm anxious, keep looking over my shoulder because I'm so sure Dennis, Leesh or Vicki or maybe even Ian have seen me leave the party and are tailing me, to this, my solace. But I had to leave. One look at me and I lower the tone of a happy day. I am frail, sickly... pathetic. I wish I knew myself still. But the Sharon I was once proud to be was lost to me the moment my son was born. Because I was lonely, watching him grow into his own person - just one less to need me.

"Darlin'...?" I whisper cautiously, wincing in pain as I clamber down to Dennis' grave, my hands slapping against my thighs. "Oh... why aren't you here eh? I wish you could see the state Vicki's gotten herself into. Got no shame. Tash has to keep reminding her she's the teenager, should be the one getting plastered. But yeah, makes her just like her mum that does. Tash isn't even fourteen yet for God's sake. But... I remember... Vicki was about that age when I heard her get up in the night... she was hiding bottles of spirit under the bath! I nearly tore her head off; it was just like one of my mum's little tricks..." 

I sigh as I consider my little sister, not so little now at 48 years old. Then there's Tash, so young with so many chances. And yet, I worry, because sometimes I see flashes of Dennis in her. She's cocky, she's moody, she's beautiful... and she makes us all so happy.

It was a huge shock to Vicki to find out she was pregnant. My sister has never in her life acted her age. When she was thirty-two, she took off travelling Europe. She hit Italy and fell head over heels for a street photographer. Like a couple of kids, they eloped to Rome after about a month and they got married. Vicki, married. That one was a bit of a shock to the system, especially given the way she'd acted. It was a volatile marriage, there were barriers they just couldn't get past. They split up after 18 months. Poor Vicki found out she was pregnant a week after Paulo called her to discuss their divorce.

Apparantly, I was the one who persuaded her to keep her baby, even though I said nothing beyond "I'll be there for you." Because she'd watched me bring up Dennis, my purpose. And she admired that so much, having been without a direction for all of her life. She hoped that a child of her own might bring one. And Tash did. She's been the absolute making of Vicki, even if that does mean she's regressed to being a teenager too.

"You owe your sister a lot of birthday presents, Dennis."

I laugh weakly as the words leave my mouth. They aren't mine, they're our niece's. She's wise is that girl. 

"You'd really like Tash baby. Get you eh? Uncle Dennis. At least, I reckon you'd like her now all she wants is to get bladdered with her mates. I know you'd have a few stories... and about twice as many games to make her sick I bet."

That feeling swirls readily inside of me without encouragement from such evils. I can't drink anymore. I've been having chemotherapy for about five months. When everyone found out about my cancer, oh, I could have died of shame just to read the pity in their eyes. This was a lie, to my mum, to Pauline, why must it be true for me? I'm so tired, I feel ill constantly and I have begun to weep everytime I look in the mirror.

"I don't understand... why did you leave me here? Don't you hear me anymore? I don't have anything left. I think I might have broken Dennis' heart, can you imagine what that did to me... as his mum? He knows what I want. I thought you did too, but I'm still waking up every morning. Why, Dennis? Why won't you care? Don't you know I just wanna be with you again?" 

I cough miserably as realisation pounds at me, inducing pain that makes a different kind of tears mingle with the one sat readily in my eyes. 

"Oh darlin'... I know what this is... you don't want me anymore." I twist the ring on my finger, each loosening circuit feeling like I'm being stabbed right in the chest. "You're up there... still so young and so beautiful and whenever it is you see me... you're not gonna come for me are you? Don't you even recognise me? I never wanted it to be this way y'know... but I... I give up. It's all gone. It's not gonna go away... it's going to kill me. So let it. I've... told them to stop the treatment. I'm on my way. Please baby, don't turn me away. I just... I need you to hold me again. That's all I've ever needed."

14th July 2034
People will ask you what death is like. And no-one can ever say, because they'll never be around to tell. That's how the treachery of death works, or else I would have been consoled by my darlin' so long ago. He'd tell me there's nothing to be afraid of. Unless... as he left me, Dennis was afraid. I've hidden that thought in the recesses of my mind from the very second I understood that he lay dead in my arms. I can't bear the idea he might have been afraid to leave me when all I wanted was to make him stay, to live out his life with me and our child.

And our child, in the painful haze of our reality without his father, has not left my side since I came to lie in this bed three days ago. He's trying to lie to me; I have heard him say so many times that I'll be fine, that he wants to take me around the world, with Leesh and their baby. I can't even bring myself to smile and humour his notions. I am so without energy and I know he lies simply to escape the truth I am no longer foolish enough to ignore. I am going to die, within this room, on this bed. 

The cancer has won, I knew it would. I was the one to make it this way. And when I told my family; Dennis, Aleesha, Vicki, Tash, Michelle and Ian, oh so many of them hated me, and there was a time I thought my son was never going to forgive me. Aleesha, distraught too, was the one that supported me in her husband's place for that silent and painful time - a fortnight I think it was. She would sit with me and she would treat me as Sharon, even as I knew I changed beyond every realm of recollection I could bear. 

And she would tearfully tell me how broken up Dennis was and guilt would burn. Because his reaction is no doubt the one I would have seen in his father, was he still here. Willing me to fight on. And oh, I would have done, if I was not so lonely. So I implored my daughter in law to return to my son, almost every time and remind me who it was I had missed during all the years of his life, who it was I needed more than life itself. And eventually, he came to me, my grown up son looking as terrified as a child. He said nothing, he just put his arms around me in a way that made me question whether he was ever going to let me go.

Dennis & I have never spoken on the idea, the inevitability of my death. I can read in his saddened face every day that he cannot bear to hear it. He concerns himself with my comfort, eradicating my levels of omnipresent pain. He has only ever uttered one sentence that assured me that as much as he hated it, he had accepted my departure.

"Let the old man know I love him, Mum."

That was it. And then he carried on tidying the lounge. I'd nodded and let myself drift back off to sleep on the settee, content in my eventuality. And I can feel now that that is not far off. I'm not going to see another morning. No, I'm going to see something... someone much more precious.

The shape of Dennis & Aleesha on my side, both clutching at my right hand is nothing but a blur of colour beneath the harsh lights everyone knows to be in hospitals. I only know they are there because I feel them, never surrendering their hold on my hand and in this one touch, there is so much love. Aleesha is such a good girl, I know she'll do right by my precious baby... their own baby.

"I'm... sorry... I won't... see... them!" I rasp.

I feel them shift, I can just about feel their warmth as they loom closer, but they feel so far away, like there is a wall being built between us I just cannot penetrate.

"See who, Mum?"

"The baby."

I hear Aleesha splutter on a sob she tries to smother with her hand as she presses her hand into her bump. That I can still see. Such a promise... such a gift... and I'll be gone. My only regret.

"Aleesha?"

"Sharon?" she responds weakly, trying to inject a false brightness into her voice that cannot fool me, even as I lie dying. The decline of death is enlightening really. Yes, the world swims in and out of focus, but every emotion is raw, you feel it all. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it is consoling. And sometimes, it feels so wonderfully liberating. But I am not free yet. Still, I am alone.

"You are going to be such a wonderful mother, sweetheart."

"Well... tell me that again when you meet the beanie eh? C'mon - since when did Sharon Rickman give up eh? I've only got a week to go... your son's baby deserves to know their Nanna."

I shake my head sadly, such a pain present in my neck with the exertion. "I'm going home."

"Oh yeah?" she sniffles, making it obvious to me, that even though I cannot see them, she is fighting tears back. "And what d'you reckon your Dennis would say about that just now eh?"

I laugh weakly, my chest so tight, every laboured breath leaving me to never be drawn back in. "I think he'd say... what took... what took me... so long!"

My son lifts my hand and kisses it affectionately as he too laughs, no thought given to the many pointless wires that pour out of my veins. "He probably would as well."

"I'm so proud of you... you're my baby.... always my baby. You're... all I ever wanted... you know that?"

I feel damp droplets on the back of my hand. My son is reduced to tears. Never again will I see them, never again will I know his sadness.

"I know, Mum."

"But now... I just want...  I need Dennis."

He nods furiously, his eyes scrunched shut so he cannot betray himself, or me. "He'll come, Mum, he will."

But he breaks down and I lose his touch against my skin as he leaps to his feet and bolts, crashing from the room. 

"I'm sorry, but I... I can't do this!"

"Dennis!" And Aleesha must get up and follow him. Of course she must. I cannot comfort him, and she is the next best thing, she is what must prove most important in his life now. I'll miss her. Sighing, hating that I have hurt him so, I turn my head, groaning in pain and smile at my sister.

"Are you frightened, Vicki?"

She blanches her lip and studies my knuckles, tracing my wedding ring upon my finger as she holds my left hand. Her voice is shaky, but oh how I love her for at least trying to convince me.

"Not if... Not if you're right Sharon, no. Not if Dennis is gonna take you back. You deserve that. Just... tell him that Tash and I love him OK? And that we miss him..."

I smile gently. "Tell him yourself."

"Sorry?" she questions wearily.

But I let her words travel over me, her confusion somehow feeling like the most delicious caress. Because my own confusion is gone, my fear and uncertainty have evaporated, held captive in the one youthful face I have been waiting almost thirty years to see again. Time has treated him well, still so beautiful as to take my breath away. But of course, that's exactly what he's here for. And at that thought, there is nothing but consoloing bliss.

"You took your time."

His footsteps make no impact against the floor he travels across. His apologetic half smile, still so much like a smirk still has a hefty impact on my failing, broken heart however. With these, my last sweet breaths, my heart dares to pound faster. Oh, how I have missed how such a rush could feel.

Dennis stops just behind Vicki's chair, smiling with such love alive in his eyes. Humour mingles too as he presses his hands down into her shoulders and she flinches in surprise.... feeling him and not knowing it. He bows his head and plants a kiss in her hair.

"Dennis, don't tease her."

"Sharon... Sharon, it's Vicki!" my sister says urgently, such fright held in her tone. 

She hovers over me, and I am amazed how clear her every feature has become. Oh, she has aged, but her beauty is still so childlike. Beautiful, darling Vicki. 

"Dennis is outside... do you want me to go and get him?"

"Oh Vicki... really. Dennis is right there. Don't you even remember what your own brother looks like?"

"My brother...?" she echoes, sounded almost haunted as she looks around. She can't see him. He looks quite stung, but nods sombrely, perhaps expecting it. I am sorry, but too removed by the peaceful smile to have stolen my lips. It's going to be OK now.

"Vicki?" Aleesha murmurs, sliding into the room. Dennis' eyes narrow in contemplation, his gaze sliding to me. If I had the breath, I'm sure I would giggle. Now that I know he is here, it's amazing to realise how very much he has missed.

"Aleesha Miller." I tell him softly. "Well, Rickman now... she married our baby... having their own too, look."

A grin breaks out across his face as his gaze drops to Aleesha's obvious bump and my stomach jolts. In so many dreams, I have envisaged the perfectness of the smile I was terrified I would forget in the misery of this loneliness. But it is so much more incredible in reality.

"Dennis!" Vicki gasps, sounding terrified and relieved all at once as my son, clutching his wife's hand allows himself to be drawn back into the room. His eyes are puffy, his face looks red and sore. I made him so desolate. He has to know this will all be alright. His dad is here now.

My sister flies at him, and I hear him choke on a very badly disguised sob. My eyes flit to my husband, and he looks crushed. Because he knows who it is he sees. And he sees what this is doing to him, the one precious gift he left me with.

"Dennis, listen to me... I think it's... now."

"What? No, it can't be, Vicki, she-"

But Vicki shakes her head, miserably dispelling his words. "She says Dennis is here."

Dennis pushes against the barricade of his auntie's arms, crying out desperately; "No... Mum... Mum, I'm here... I'm here."

"Baby!" Aleesha calls loudly, catching him awkwardly in her own frenzied, trembling embrace. "I think she means Dennis. Your dad is here."

"Well, where is he then eh? Where?" he hisses angrily. 

I tear my gaze away and look to Dennis. "Our son." I whisper. "I want you to meet our son."

It looks as though Dennis swallows down a troubled lump in his throat as he nods, stepping cautiously around the room to the grieving cluster on the other side. Catching the glint of the ring sat upon his finger, Dennis clasps his hand around his son's, their very first touch.

"I gave it to him." I confess. "It's part of us both... just like he is."

His lips curve lovingly as our son's sink in despair. He gasps in fright as he feels the touch, pleading; "Mum?"

"I told you he'd hear you. He's right there baby, just like always."

"No!" he howls viciously, tearing his hand away and crashing down at my side, groping for my hand. "I'm not gonna let him take you away from us, he can't. What right has he got?"

"He's my darlin'!" I protest.

"And I'm your son!"

"But, sweetheart.... you're Dennis' son too. He's your Dad."

"Yeah, and he wants to steal my Mum away. I won't let him!"

"Can he stop you?" I enquire weakly of Dennis, feeling so drained by this, my very last fight. My poor boy, he knows what this means to me, and yet, like that child I wanted so much, he clings on. So much like me.

Dennis pulls in his cracked lips, not knowing whether he dare to smile or whether he should surrender and weep. Can the dead weep? As wordlessly as ever, oh God, I long to hear him speak, he shakes his head.

And I manage a weak burst of laughter, somehow this crushing weight I have carried with me for these twenty-nine devestatingly lonely years is lifted. "Oh... I hope you know what day it is..."

"It's July fourteenth." Vicki offers awkwardly. The burden of calculation shows in her brother's face, but then... the realisation breaks through in a knowing smile.

"I had the most almighty ruck with Dennis on July fourteenth. Couple of hours later, he was proposing to me, but... I've never been so.... involved in a argument in my life. Threw a glass at him..."

His gaze isn't leaving my face, watching every word slip past my lips.

"And missed."

Oh my God. Just to hear his voice, I'm all but ready to RSVP on Death's invitation at that exact moment. It just hurts me that no-one else knows of his presence, the way I see it, hear it. Except manybe our son, our bond, the one to have felt his touch. I hope to God he'll understand everything that was meant in that one moment and that he'll treasure it.

"- but the engagement... was the end of that fight. And this... this is the end of mine. And that means-" I say pointedly in my son's direction, who raises his watery eyes to my face through nothing but guilt. "-the fight's over now. I promise you, baby.... I'll be OK. We'll never let go, your dad and me, I promise."

Dennis crouches down behind our son's chair, looking up at him in absolute awe. But his surprise as Dennis turns and looks him desperately in the eye is unchartable. Because he cannot be seen, by anyone besides me. But Dennis seems to know exactly where he will find his father.

"I'll beg you if I have to, Dad. Don't... Don't take her, not yet. I need her. Like I've always needed you... she's not ready!"

"Oh I am." I assure him hoarsely as I watch the pained uncertainity build in my husband's mesmerising eyes, darting across his son's troubled face. He hates that he hurts him so, but I can't let him leave me here. "I was ready from the second you met Leesh. I knew it'd be alright then. Please Dennis, I need this. Let me go. I wanna go back to my darlin'."

He cries against my hand again, his tears drenching my skin. "I love you, Mum." he chokes.

"I know baby."

Composing himself, wiping his streaming eyes, he turns, not quite so unknowingly to where Dennis still crouches. "She's waited my whole life for you, Dad. You best make this worth her while. Take care of her." He sighs heavily, and then adds weakly; "I suppose, in a way, it was great knowing you. Feels good being a part of you, Dennis Rickman."

"Feels good knowing you're a part of me, mate. You're the one thing I got right. I hope you know I love ya, cos I probably ain't gonna be seeing you for another 50-60 years. So remember that, and I'll be seeing you yeah?" Something registers on our son's face, and fear would stir if I could let it. But I'm so tired. I want to go now. 

Dennis smiles as he pushes himself up and meets my imploring gaze. His smile widens in reassurance as he moves down to me, his lips brushing my crown.

"I'm so proud of you, Sharon."

I tremor as I savour the sensation of his kiss upon my skin. For so long I have missed the way it feels. "You really came."

"Course I did." he murmurs gently, stroking my cheek. "You didn't think I was gonna let anyone else do this did you? Your mum kinda wanted too, Dot an' all, but they knew this gig was mine. I had to see you, I had to know it was right before I could let it happen."

"I'm dying Dennis, I doubt there's much you can do to stop that."

He shakes his head firmly. "You're wrong." Turning away, he looks sadly to Dennis. "That's my son, and all he wants is you. Begging me with the first words he's said to my face without even knowing it's there. If I'm any kind of dad, I'd let him have what he wants. Ah..." He almost winces as the words come to mind, the importance of them obvious in the tightness of his facial muscles. "...that's another thing mate. You saying you were never gonna be like me? It's twisted, but that is the proudest I've ever been. Do everything you told me you would. Be there for the kid right? Be the best dad you can, do everything I never did with you yeah?"

Nothing comes from our son at this declaration and Dennis smiles sadly, perhaps hoping for something. But instead, he turns back to me and grips my hand fiercely.

"You can fight Sharon, you can. You don't have to come with me... not yet."

I writhe with the pain. I think this must be what finality feels like. I won't be made to fight anymore, I won't lose him again.

"But I want to! Dennis, I need you, please... you can't leave me here."

"Hey, shhh!" he soothes, stroking my hair. "I'm not leaving you. You just have to be sure."

"If I... If I come with you... it'll be forever won't it? Like you said?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it will."

"Then mean it."

He gasps in a happy disbelief. I will him to keep looking at me with all the strength of mind a dying woman can possess, because if he turns and sees our son weeping for what he stands to lose, then there will be such a devestation in his beautiful eyes, I know all his promises will be broken.

"Are you scared?" he whispers.

"A bit." I confess shyly, feeling shame burn in my cheeks. My darlin', he died alone, I have him here to hold me safe in his arms as I leave.

"Don't be. Because this is what it feels like... I missed you, Sharon."

And his lips press against my daring smile, kissing neglected lips that have missed him for far too many years to prove fair. There's such a hunger in our connection we have both waited so long for it. It's such a release. I'm free. 

15th July 2034
I can't believe she's gone. My beautiful, brave mum. It aches, it truly hurts. And somehow, there's a part of me still refusing to believe it. It's like there could never have been any reason she would choose to leave me. I know I was her world from the moment she lost my dad. It's pathetic, but I can't help feeling stabbings of jealousy as I consider that he has taken her back into his own world now. I have no place. I'm the forgotten son. But I know to scold myself. Because to look at her now - she's at total peace.

I cried like a baby when they took her. Because I am a baby - I'm her baby. But Aleesha wound her arms around me, whispering comfort as I sobbed. And oh, she cried too. She loved my mum from the moment she met her. Vicki was stunned, her eyes sparkling with tears that could not fall. She stared at the empty bed for an age, as if Mum still lay there. And then, after about half an hour's pained silence, she whispered she had to go and ring Tash.

Tash apparantly got straight on a bus and flew into the empty and cold room twenty minutes later. Fourteen years old. Just fourteen. And I knew this was gonna tear her up. Aleesha moved away, stepping back to allow me to take my cousin in my heavy arms. We didn't say a word, there weren't any. We just cried. And as Vicki watched her daughter howl, she finally broke, collapsing into Aleesha's arms and pleading for an understanding of such injustice.

When we eventually tore ourselves away from this last room, we were told that Mum had been taken by the funeral directors to lie in their chapel of rest. The four of us stayed there until the senior director, a sombre looking man who genuinely looked saddened to work with death everyday, oh why would you - what the hell is there to get up for in the morning - told us gently it was time to go and that we could return whenever we liked in the morning. The night's sleep that followed was perhaps the worst in my life, imagining my poor mum lain out, abandoned in some room, locked up until it were to be business as usual that next morning.

Aleesha heard my tears, despite how quiet I strived to keep them and wound her arms around me, as tight as the obstacle of our child inside her would allow, kissing my shoulder and whispering that she was there if I wanted her. And that was all I needed, feeling my shoulder become damp with the effect of her own tears, evident in the thickness of her voice, sliding off her streaked face. And I turned my head and surrendered to the one crippling thought my mother herself had known she would regret.

"She... won't see our baby, Leesh. She's never gonna meet her grandchild."

"She'll be there Dennis. Sharon's not gonna let us down now."

Demi came with us to the chapel. I've never really thought how much it would affect her. She's just forty-three. And my mum was the one that came to understand everything she had been through, everything she wished for, and everything she was frightened of. Mum had used to say that they were kindred spirits. And now, Demi has lost hers. In this way, she is all alone again. And perhaps frightened all the more. She cried, oh the tears poured freely, and Aleesha, holding her tremoring mother close, was off once again. I kept back, knowing that this was not my moment. My mum meant so much to so many, I will have my time.

Smiling apologetically, Demi offers me her arms, winding me in and hugging me close. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. But.... your mum's someplace else now and she... she's happy..."

"I know Dems." I assure her, nodding as I draw back, kissing her cheek. "Dad came for her."

"I'll bet he did. Sharon woulda killed him twice over if not - she waited a long time."

"Yeah, well, no more, eh? I just wish..." Aleesha steps up and slips her hand through mine, squeezing lovingly, just so I know she's there as the pain of these words is set free. "...I just wish I coulda seen him, y'know? Mum could see him, but I... I could feel him and it... didn't seem like enough... not after all this time."

"But he was there and that was all Sharon wanted. You'll get your turn darlin', you will, but you've... gotta live your life first. Don't wish for this. I did, for a long time after Leo died. I just wanted to go to him, but death... it's part of living... and I bet both Sharon & Dennis would be having words with you for throwing your life away when they wanted you so much. You were precious to them both Dennis, don't forget that."

A painful lump rises in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut to stem the threat of tears that'll flow and bite into my lip as I shake my head. "But she was so young..."

"But your dad was younger..." Demi points out gently, and I wince guiltily as I considered that Leo, the one that she loved so much, the man that gave me my purpose in the love of his only daughter, was just a child when he was stolen from her. "...Sharon lived her life, because of you. You kept her strong and you did right by everything she ever wanted for you. That was all she needed. So she was ready to wish for Dennis again, and you know yourself that's where she is now. She's someplace with your dad... and that's not to hurt you." She reaches and brushes the falling tears away from my face. "So try, sweetheart... try not to cry. It hurts a parent to see their child cry... and they both see you now, Dennis."

I laugh weakly. She's right. The two of them are probably floating on a cloud somewhere, scrutinising every move all of us make down here. And my mum, she'd be guilt stricken, just as my dad will have been for each of his long and lonely years up there, never knowing how to console her because he cannot make it right for all of us here. I hope those feelings pass by quick enough. It means so much to think of my mum reunited with my dad, when I have seen for as long as my eyes have lain open how much she needed him.

Demi passes by Aleesha, kissing her too and whispering she'll be just outside. 

Left alone, Aleesha draws in a heavy breath and bravely steps up again to the coffin, leading me with her. My hand curls around the satin edging, but it cannot rest easy there. Mum, she looks too much as though she is sleeping. If I could just nudge her hard enough then maybe she'd wake up. Aleesha gasps frightfully beside me, trying so hard to curb the sound as I draw my hand down to my mother's face.

"Baby, you don't have to-"

But I have winced at the contact before all of my wife's words are out.

"She's so cold." I whisper, stroking her cheek. I have to make her warm again.

"I know." Aleesha replies awkwardly, knowing there's little else she can say because I'm not going to believe it.

Gingerly, I press my hand over my mother's heart. There is no beat, of course there isn't... that died long ago, in the shape of my father breathing his last in her arms. But beneath my touch, it's suddenly evident I will not wake her. Because she is so heavy, like lead. Weighed down by everything she suffered in this world I have no doubt. 

"She's just a shell. She's not my mum is she?"

"Not anymore baby, no."

"So.... what's happened to my mum, Aleesha - what happens when you die?"

I know I pose impossible questions, voicing them with the uncertainties of a child when my wife, as heart-broken as I am, can know as little as any bereaved child. But she holds firmly onto my hand and speaks, speaks to console, to offer words that will prove she loves me, even in the probability of their falsehood.

"I don't know about everyone... but I know what happened to Sharon, Dennis. Your dad kissed her and brought her home. He took her in his arms and she smiled.... the kind of smile she has in all those photographs.... because she knows now he's never gonna let her go. And wherever it is they have gone, I know that your mum is young again..."

"She'd have liked that. No more wrinkles." I trace out the tiny lines to have puckered around her frozen lips only within the last few months. "She never had any anyway."

Aleesha nods in agreement, but we both knew my mum. She wasn't vain - she was beautiful. It was a natural captivation and she called it a "talent" she never wanted to surrender.

"And her hair.... it's perfect. It's long, like it was and it's the colour of the sun. She's back living that perfect time before she lost your dad. It's never gonna end now. She's thirty-six, she's been happily married for nearly four months; it's bliss, even if her bloody husband still hasn't put those shelves up in the bedroom yet... and she's just had the most perfect news... she's having a baby... and she's never been so happy..."

Her voice waivers. But her every word is right, I know it is, I can believe whole-heartedly in every breath. And I love her so much for knowing the truth, for speaking it when I needed to hear it the most. I pull her back from the coffin and practically crush her in the desperation of my embrace. But she just laughs and holds me too. That is, until she screams out in pain and I let her go, leaping back apologetically.

But still her beautiful face is contorted in pain, even as she tries to fool me with a smile, pressing her hand into her back.

"L-Leesh?"

"Dennis, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry, just tell me what's wrong, what's going on?"

"I think that was a contraction..."

My stomach drops, my head buzzes, my blood runs cold, so many things all at once. "What? Well... how long have they...?"

She grimaces, real terror in her eyes. "Since last night."

Oh my God. Aleesha's having the baby... she's having our baby, she's been suffering with God knows what kinda agony for nearly 12 hours, and was too terrified to say a word because we were all so torn up over losing Mum. But then, maybe.... maybe Demi was right... maybe Mum did this because she wanted there to be no reason left for us to cry for her when she is at last at peace. But... God, twelve hours, why didn't Aleesha saying something... anything?"

"Demi!" I yell, supporting Aleesha as she folds, apparntly wanting so much just to collapse on the floor.

Demi rushes in expectantly. Fear sits ready in her eyes, but absolutely everything leaves her face as she reads the obviousness of the situation that meets her. She rushes to help me hold Aleesha up.

"Oh, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry..." my darlin' gasps through her pain. "I never wanted to... do this... like this..."

"Shhh, it's alright... Demi, she says she's been having contractions since last night..."

Just for a moment, I can see Demi understands why Aleesha never said a word, but surely nothing matters now, nothing except Aleesha and the baby. I know that's what my mum would say.

"Oh you silly girl, why didn't you... have you been counting how far apart...?"

"A... minute..."

I began to shiver as we helped her into the backseat of the car and sped to the hospital. I sat beside her, telling her to grip my hand, and coaching her through her breathing. I hate seeing her in this kind of pain, but there's nothing I can do. She'd only just made it through the doors of maternity when her waters went. I can't believe that she could have been in such agony for so damn long and her waters have only just gone. And I still don't know if she is brave or foolish. But I am there, beside her for every moment, willing her to hold strong, reminding her I love her, I'll always love her.

And as they lay our child on her chest some two hours later, I kiss her fiercely, needing her to know that as of this moment, tinted with her pain, with mine and so much damn loneliness, for there are so many people we want here besides Demi; I am complete.

I'm a father. That tiny little girl wailing for the first time against the warmth of her mother's chest is part of me. She amazes me, her furious little limbs, the strength, the determination in her cry, her shock of dark hair... she's perfect. 

At last I know how my dad felt... he is suddenly so much less a stranger - because I feel the pride he felt at being a father even as he lay dying. I understand now that a feeling like this is something that can never die. So I know to be everything I believe my dad could have offered to me. I know never to let go. And I know to smile. That's all my parents want.

18th July 2034
It feels so different being back in the graveyard, beside this grave. Because, well... as many times as I have come here, I came with my mum, with Leesh, with Vicki. Except now only Leesh and Vicki remain, because we're here to lie my mum to rest. The worst thing about it was when they carried the coffin in. Knowing that she was there, but that the lid was closed... I was never going to see her face again. That was perhaps the realisation that hurt the most. Leesh's arms are tied with rocking our baby daughter and so I hold Tash. She's been so brave, but now she shivers, trying her very hardest not to let her tears be heard. And perhaps they won't be, there are so many people here. Everyone my mum has ever known appears to be here to mourn her.

Leesh flinched as I got up to move to the front and deliver the eulogy. Oh, everyone knows it had to be me. But my wife, she has seen the way my tears have poured down, she has seen how I have tremored and she hates that she cannot comfort me. But in her glance, I know she cares. Edging past my mum, I brush a kiss across the smooth wood and take my place. My knees are shaking... what if I can't stand up? I face so many people. Friends, neighbours and yet so many are strangers. I'm scared. How can one person be so lonely in the face of so many others?

My voice is weak, it sounds so much like it'll crack.

"My mum... she came into her own when she met my dad. She always used to say that... their sort of love was what completed her. Even when she lost him... God, she lost so many people... I was her proof, I was her reason. When I was little, it used to feel like... a burden almost. I was just this little kid who didn't understand where his dad had gone. But I learnt to be proud... proud to be the one thing my mum had wanted so much in her life. I just hope I didn't let her down..."

That's it. I'm gone. There's so much more I need to say, there is, but I'm just too shattered to let the words come. My sobs are tearing me in half. I just want my mum. I need to hear her say one last time that she's proud of me, that she loves me. But I'm never going to hear those words, her voice, ever again.

I hear pews creak. I hear my daughter whimper as she leaves her mother's arms. But then I hear another voice. One with the experience, one with a heart weighed down with similar pains, striving to keep her back.

"No, Aleesha. I'll go."

I listen to Demi's heel tapping against the cold, hard floor, sagging with relief as she winds her arms around me. "It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright."

And she holds my hand fiercely and takes my place. I am a child. Broken all over again. And I stand, eyes brimming with tears, staring at the floor as I listen to Demi addressing this pained congregation in my place.

"Sharon... she became my best friend. Her son, my daughter, they had grown up in the same pain. And Sharon... she's only ever seen me as a child, and she hated so much that I knew her pain when I was so young. But so was Sharon. Always so young in heart and mind, no matter what she'd been through, she'd look at her baby, and she had a reason to smile. I lost the father of my child too.... Sharon understood everything, she held me and my family together. I pretty much owe this woman my life. She was incredible, but even now... she's not gone. Dennis.... he was her soulmate, and she always wanted to go back to him. It wasn't morbid... it was love, the strongest kind of love I think I've ever heard of. And that's where she is now. She let something so awful take her, because she was so sure of what was waiting for her... to make it all worthwhile. She's back in the arms of the one man to have made her life... to have given her her precious son."

She turns to me and squeezes my hand a little bit tighter, telling me gently; 

"You're her son, Dennis... and you're your dad's son. Part of them both forever. And I know what that meant to her. And so do you. You were perfect, and you... you could never let her down sweetheart. Never."

I sniffle, my eyes sore and itching and I nod, some of this darkness lessening. Just a little. Enough to let the stem of my tears die away.

"Sharon Rickman was an incredibly brave woman to make the decision she did. She loved everyone, she was so selfless. But in the end, she needed to do this for herself and I believe there's nothing we can do but respect her for that, because I think we all know it must have taken a lot of soul-searching for her to finally decide to let us go. But she's happy now... I think we all know that too. She's back with her darlin'... so the tears should stop. Sharon suffered enough heartbreak in her life, let's not do this to her now. Goodbye Sharon... I hope the walk up wasn't too awful in those shoes darlin'."

Oh, thank God for Demi. I could not have put into words how much everyone hear needed to feel that ripple of laughter pulse through them, backs so stiff as they hunch in mourning, eyes so damn damp.

"Thank you." I whisper sincerely against her ear as I fold her thankfully into my arms. "Demi, I mean it, thank you so much."

She just smile softly and leads me back to our seats. "Anything for you sweetheart."

I'd decided to be one of the pallbearers as Mum left the church. I needed to be close to her on this one last journey. I wanted to be the one to carry her back to my dad. Because I have always known how much she needed that. I will be the one to make her proud.

But being back in the graveyard makes me cold. Because I stood so long before the service, crouched out the graveside, looking now as I have never seen it before. Uncovered. Peering down I saw the plaque upon my dad's coffin, smeared with the debris of twenty-eight years. But I could not be so sure I was looking upon my own death. Because I felt so alone. Orphaned - oh how pathetic can one word sound?

"Hello Dad." I'd whispered croakily. "She won't be long now."

And now, she was poised, ready to lie in his arms once again. I didn't hear a word of what the vicar said, but I suppose I coulda gone and picked it up off a TV funeral or something. They say it for every body, every death, it don't mean anything. What does is my auntie crying until her every breath is a painful cough... my cousin, crying still, as though she has not stopped since the moment she knew that Auntie Sharon was gone. Family. Everything that mattered to my mum and my dad, everything that kept them apart, everything that made them. Why would the two of them leave us all so damn lonely - didn't they see we all needed them?

The mourners drifted dutifully away. Ian & Michelle stood close to our shivering cluster of family, Tash shivering against her mother, who rested against me, sadly stroking away the tears to still be rolling silently down my cheeks, Demi reassuringly pressing into my shoulder as she soothes Aleesha who clutches our daughter, her tears wetting the material of her beautiful pink hat, too big for her of course, she is just three days old, but it was a present from Nanna, it matters today.

"We'll, er... give you a bit eh?" Ian smiles awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he tries to guide Michelle away. "We'll wait out by the gates..."

Demi steps back, apparantly agreeing with them. Vicki, too, whispers to Tash that "Dennis needs some time now, darlin'," and ushers her away. But, accepting Ian's frail handshake and Michelle's kiss of reassurance against the slipperiness of my cheek, it is Tash that I stop. She gasps frightfully, her lips only twisting into a pale imitation of a smile as she sees it is me. I fall to my knees upon the dusty ground, simply not caring as I offer her my arms once again. She falls into them gratefully and I rock her as new tears present themselves, shushing her and kissing her hair.

"I'm so sorry Dennis, I'm so sorry."

"Why?" I question miserably. "You know she's alright now..."

"But what about you?"

"Hey-" I say sternly, nudging her with my shoulder and cupping her glistening face in my palms. "-I'm the Rickmans boy remember?"

She laughs weakly, nodding certainly as she returns; "Made of strong stuff."

"And so are you darlin'. You ever need me, I'm right there OK? Day or night-"

"Night-feed you mean!"

"Yeah. She's not the greatest sleeper, my girl. Gets that off her Nanna, she does. But at least it means I'll hear the phone. Always here for you Tash. Always. Love you."

"Love you too." she asserts, clambering up and offering her mum her hand.

"Look after your mum, Tash!"

She gives me a nod of promise, and Aleesha stands next to me, watching them all leave us... leaving us with the finality of a moment I never wanted to face. I scuff my toe into the gravel of the path, swinging on my heel and looking anxiously up and down the length of the graveyard, for any sort of distraction from this moment, squinting against the pouring sunlight. And I see this couple, just one. There seems to be no-one else around at all. He is tall, with dark hair, his strong arms wound protectively around the woman he loves. And she seems so small beside him, but well protected she is; he'd never let anything happen to her. 

She seems so content to walk against him, turning her head and stretching up, even from the height of four inch heels, to kiss his mouth. And as she turns her head, the sunlight catches in her golden hair, leaping off and blinding me. And I can even see the glint of a wedding ring on her hand as she lifts it, tenderly caressing his face. And I feel it. I know it. I do.

"Mum!" I yell, racing forward with such force that my calf muscles strain and feel like they have torn. But I can't stop. I can't let them go. Not if the two of them are really here. Together. Oh, I've waited all my life to see it. I need to know she's OK... I truly need to see his face. "Dad!"

~*~

"Please Dennis, let's just go to him."

I turn, and I know my glance pleads with him. But the pain of what I know is the truth plays across his face, so much more beautiful in the sunlight. So alive and yet... I'm stood watching my own funeral. Or at least, what will be my funeral. Because there, crouched at the uncovered grave of my husband; whose arms are wound around me in a way that promises he will never again release me; saddened diamonds pouring down his tired face, is our son, dressed for such mourning.

"You know we can't."

"But he's our baby, we can't just leave him... not like this."

"We already have Sharon. We already have."

"Oh..." I sigh in defeated misery, turning away and burying my guilty face in Dennis' shoulder. He holds me and he soothes me, but we both know it cannot be enough. Not right now. He told me we shouldn't come. He told me it would be too surreal to watch my own farewell. But he knew too that we had to come. And I knew he wanted to - just to see his son, just to be there at such a time. But it's so much harder on the dead. Because guilt tortures you on the inside, because you can't go forward and comfort them. Because you're not truly there. You are a loss.

"Hello Dad."

Dennis stiffens against me and I am silenced at hearing my son's quivering voice, so low so broken and yet carried at such a volume on the winds. "I still can't believe he's talking to me..."

He speaks with such a wonderment and I... I'm so proud. Because my darlin' stands here with me at long last, a father. And he is still so very in love with the idea. We did that, the two of us together. We made that precious life... the one that sits mourning the both of us with his every last tear. Oh, this hurts so much.

"She won't be long now."

"I know mate." Dennis murmurs in reply, stroking my hair back from my face as he holds me. "Oh God... he looks just like me, this is too..."

"Well, think what it's done to me the past thirty years will you?"

He kisses my hair apologetically. "I'm sorry darlin', it's just... I'll never be over it. That's my son."

"Yeah, I know... I gave birth to him. But of course, you wouldn't remember that would you?"

"Are you kidding? That was the best night of my-" He realises, laughing dryly, that he cannot legitimately say "life". "Well, it was the best. I was right there - didn't you know?"

I shrug. "I really didn't, Dennis, think I might have been concentrating on the agony of childbirth-"

"Not like that Aleesha then eh? I dunno how you could do that to her, Sharon."

I shake my head. "It's not for you to understand baby. It's for Dennis & Aleesha... and they understood, I know they did. I just wanted the tears to stop. And now look at them, look at us... we're Nanna and Granddad!"

Dennis laughs. "Guess that's not bad for thirty-one!"

I smile, but I can't humour him. Because that need, that overwhelming instinct is taking me. I can't watch my baby cry. "Please... I just want him to know we're here."

But Dennis grips my hand tigether, the ferocity of his touch reproaching me. "But we're not. If we were... then he wouldn't be... not yet, you know that."

That is perhaps the strangest thing about this existence. There is but one comfort in the afterlife. You are immortalized, you become who it is you are in your heart. Dennis lost just six days. I shed more than twenty-eight lonely years. And now we're to live forever in the revealation of our first Christmas as the Rickmans, our last together. Because in the moment we knew we were to have our son, we were both everything we'd ever wanted to be. 

It confuses me, it really does. Because my son crouches at Dennis' graveside, a grown man, a family of his own, and yet I can feel flutterings of his promise in my stomach. If there were breath in my body, he would grow. But he has been born. He lives... I don't. I stand here, carrying my son inside me, because knowing it was the most perfect moment of my life.

"I'll do anything! I just want him to know we're together. Look at him... don't punish him Dennis, please. I lived for your son, he knows me, he knows everything I've ever felt. He's never heard you say you love him, and I know you do. If we can't go over there and tell him that, then please just show him. He deserves something."

Dennis sighs, kissing away my tears. "I never meant to hurt you both so much."

"I know that, baby. But it's something you have to prove to your son. I was never enough to make him believe it."

"OK... but... we can't talk to him Sharon, you know we can't. We're gone. However much he wants it, dead people can't stand in graveyards having conversations-" He rolls his eyes as I give him a doubtful look... what exactly are we doing if that's not it? "-with the living Sharon. We'd drive him mad, and he... he's got a family. He's got a wife and a kid, I won't let him screw up like I did."

So I have to promise, and I have to wait. Dennis & I stand and we watch my funeral. He's right, it's so unnerving, knowing that my body lies in that box, that my shell is what all the people stood around and mourn. Dennis can read in my filling eyes the desire to rush out and scream "But I'm here, look, I'm happy! Please... stop!" and he holds me safe in his arms, whispering that it's so nearly over. He sags a little as my coffin is lowered into his grave, releasing a breath that isn't there. How can it be? But the mechanicisms stand, even in death. A chest will rise and fall, even when it is so without breath to breathe.

"Oh God, Dennis, I missed you so much..."

"Yeah well, you're stuck with me now ain't ya eh? Got enough room there?"

"Shut up... just hold me... and tell me when."

But he is silent for so long. All these faces move away, leaving the core, my family. We watch still as Vicki tries to usher Tash away and Dennis stops her, falling to the earth and offering his arms. And the poor little darlin' falls into them so willingly, so weakened.

"Vicki's kid right?"

"Uh huh. That's Tash... such a sweetheart..."

"I can't believe Vicki actually had a kid..."

"Yeah well, she said she'd watched me raise Dennis and she knew that if I could do it when I'd never wanted to without you, then she could do it without her good-for-nothing husband an' all. And I'm glad she did - Tash is everything to Vicki, like Dennis is to me."

"Maybe we should be glad he didn't have a boy eh? I have a hideous feeling he mighta been a Dennis an' all, and that's just cruel."

"Don't be so sure of yourself, you. He mighta been a Leo... after Leesh's dad."

"Well, do we know what they've called her?"

I shake my head. "Not yet. Dennis, what...?"

He's pulling me forward, down the gravel path.

"I don't know how long we can make this last, Sharon."

"Make what last?"

"Him." he says gently, nodding down the path to where our son stands hunched in the sunlight - looking right at us.

"Oh... darlin', can he... can he see us?"

"For now... yeah..."

I flop my head against Dennis' chest, overwhelmed by the moment, everything he's done for me. He bows his head and kisses my hair.

"I'm sorry I don't know how to make it be forever."

"You're not God darlin', this is enough... this is everything to me right now. Thank you..." 

And I turn, stretching up and kissing his mouth, every kiss as real as they were when we were together, everything I need our son to see to realise we're OK, that at last I have my forever.

But my spine goes rigid as I hear the desperate pounding of his feet against the gravel. 

"Mum! Dad!"

Dennis steers me away, knowing I'd give anything to stay, breaking as he calls for us both, realising we are together.

"You know we can't, baby. He deserves a chance. We can't do this to him. That's it. We have to go."

I nod sadly as tears pour from my eyes, inwardly pleading for my precious baby to one day understand what that one fleeting moment meant.

~*~

"Please!" I beg, racing after them still. Why won't they stop? Don't they know it's me? "Dad! I just wanna see you... Mum... please... don't leave me... don't leave me! I just need- I need-"

But I'm breathless for the severity of my tears, my desperation to believe, to see... to know. I just wanted to look into the face of my father, see the pride I feel now... to know that I am part of him. But they're gone... vanished like they were never here. I feel as though I am mad, and fall to the ground as I lag, crying desperately into my feverish palms, with every breath tearing my chest in two.

"Please come back! I'm begging you, please come back!"

But I plead with the swirling breeze, nothing more - there's no-one here. I can hear Aleesha calling me desperately, but she cannot come with the urgency I can hear that she feels for me, so broken in front of her, while she is as helpless as the innocent child she holds. My baby. I get it. I understand what I meant to my mum, because I feel it so intensely now, I could die too. I just need my baby.

Staggering some way back to my own feet, I manage to meet my wife on the path.

"Oh... Oh Dennis..."

"Give her to me." I choke, holding my arms out desperately for my daughter. Nodding, Aleesha feeds her, own tiny little life, into my shivering embrace and then throws her arms around me, rocking me as I cry so bitterly. 

"What happened? Oh darlin', c'mon... I'm here..."

"I just wanted them to m-m-meet her! They were here Leesh, both of them, I saw them!"

And oh, how I love that she doesn't look at me like I'm crazy, or worse, with pity. She looks at me with understanding, as if she mighta expected such a thing.

"C'mon..." she whispers, pulling on my elbow as I curl around our tiny baby girl, kissing her head, dripping such miserable tears over her. She is too incredible. She is part of me, part of the woman I love most in this whole agonising world and she is, in turn, part of all those Leesh & I miss so damn much. I can't believe she is mine. And I can't believe something so small is to hold us all together.

Following Aleesha's guidance, I cuddle my daughter, promising myself I'll never let her know this kind of pain. Sniffling, I crouch carefully at the graveside, knowing there is no other way to fulfil my one last burning desire - not if they won't come back.

"Mum... Dad... got someone here you should meet. This is her... this is our daughter. This is Sharon..."

Aleesha leans over her, eyes sparkling as she slips the hat off Sharon's tiny little head and coos as she curls her even smaller hand around her finger. "C'mon baby, say hello to Nanna and Granddad eh?"

But Sharon simply wriggles and murmurs like babies do, so unwelcoming of her sudden loss of temperature. I laugh weakly, kissing her soft mop of her hair again.

"Like that is it? Well, c'mon then... let Daddy look after you..."

With a groan, I get up, raising my daughter to the warmth of the sun as I admire her.

"Are you alright?" Aleesha whispers gently, pressing into my arm. I smile down at our connection and realise she's clutching Sharon's little hat. And I take it as I hold her safely to my chest with one protective arm and toss it gently into the open grave.

"There you go. Mum, Dad...  present from your granddaughter. She loves you. We all do. And thank you... thank you for showing me, thank you for finding each other. I'm proud of you old man... and Mum, oh Mum, he best make forever worth it..."

Aleesha giggles gently as she stoops to cover our daughter's crown in kisses. "Least you know he meant it..."