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Saturday 14th June 2025

"My name is Kevin.”
With that I started walking backwards down the stairs.
No.
No, this can’t be happening.
We’ve just lost their dad.
This can’t be happening.
I remember looking at him as if he might correct himself. As if he might say he’d made a mistake.
Instead, I turned and walked into the front room.
I pointed at the cabinet full of pictures and cards for Peter.
As if that proved something.
As if there was a limit to how much one family was allowed to lose.
“We’ve just lost him,” I remember saying.
Like that should have changed the outcome.
Kevin was still speaking, explaining something gently, but I didn't hear any of it. 

In shock I did my best to explain her complex medical diagnosis's and history. I was racking my brains.

Nothing.

This can't be happening.

Not her, not now.

I would have swapped places in an instant.

She has been through so much, her kids had been through so much.

The only thing that stood out was the dizzy spell she had mentioned to me a couple of days ago that she had put down to a long day at my grandparents, the extreme heatwave, and dehydration as she had left her water bottle behind.

She had spent that evening sorting out the kids bits and then next day resting in the hope that she would be able to do something with the kids on Sunday.

She finally decided to have a nice relaxing bath that evening,  I had suggested it a few times in the last few weeks to help with her muscles since she has only had access to a shower room these past few years.

Fifteen Minutes Earlier
My alarm went off.
Saturday morning. Already bright. Already hot.
For a split second I didn’t know what day it was. Then I remembered. Corey’s sleepover. I’d promised I’d be there early.
It was a normal morning.
I got up, threw some clothes on, and walked past her door.
It was slightly ajar, like always. Peter's wash basket wedged in the doorway and the toilet door wide open in the hope a breeze would travel through from the open windows. 
I didn’t think twice about it.
Why would I?
I went downstairs to make a quick coffee. I looked down at the plaster on my finger and was excited to tell Corey about the surprise in his room and want had happened. My phone rang.
“I don’t feel well.”
My brain switched immediately.
What did you eat?
Who’s there?
Are you okay?
He’d had butter. Since Peter died, we'd worked out he was lactose intolerant. We'd changed everything at home so this feeling had panicked him. 
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m coming now.”
I shouted up the stairs to wake Jane as I knew he would want his mum.
“Jane!”
Nothing.
I shouted again.
Still nothing.
I assumed she couldn’t hear me.
I ran upstairs and pushed her door open wide and....
I knew immediately. 
There she was asleep in her normal position with her blanket tucked under her chin.

The heatwave meant covers were not a option. She looked so peaceful and content happiness etched on her face. Her beauty shone through with her hair in the same slick bun she had done the evening before.

She had always been naturally beautiful with small petite features except for the most stunning plump lips. 

I started to say no no no, as if it would rewind the reality of what my heart already knew. She was gone. My brain had started to dissociate almost immediately to protect me. 

There’s a split second where your brain offers you something easier.
She’s exhausted.
She’s in a deep sleep.
She’s fine.
But my heart already knew.
And disbelief collided with instinct.
This can’t be happening.
But I have to go.
I ran back downstairs.
Everything looked the same.
The kettle.The washing up from dinner.

For a second, I thought I could just drive.
But when I stood up properly, my legs weren’t steady.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
He couldn’t find out this way.

There was only one person I could call.
Peter’s sister Hayley.
I don’t remember exactly how I said it but I did ask where she was first.
She asked if I’d called 999.
I hadn’t. My brain was only thinking of the kids.

I told her that I needed her to get Corey and act normal.
Protect them all.
She told me to call.
So I did.
“Emergency. Which service?”
“Ambulance.”

The signal dropped so I opened the front door and stood on the lawn.

I dialed again and then again.
My voice was steady.
They asked if she was breathing.
They asked if I was with her.
“No”
They started to give me instructions. I cant I said its too late. After she repeated how I could help her a number of times I started to doubt myself. 

I'd have done anything to make this ok but I knew it was too late. The lady on the phone isnt going to be there when I cant sleep because of flashbacks from following instructions. She deserved to stay in the peace she had left in not her big sister trying 

I ran upstairs again.
This time I went closer and touched her gently.                  "No, there is nothing I can do"                                                 The light was coming burning through the small window.      I ran back downstairs whilst saying Jane I'm sorry I can't.
“You’re doing really well,” the operator said.
I wasn’t doing well I couldn’t do anything.
Just one ambulance arrived no siren.
He walked calmly up the stairs.
I followed halfway and stopped at the bend of the stairs.
Ten seconds.
Maybe less he appeared.

MY MUM I hadn’t even thought about that. 

I started to make calls as I couldn't leave yet and my immediate family lived about 45 minutes away. My brother, my dad....
I apologised.
I knew how it felt to know you'd be the one delivering unexpected devastating news unable to process your own loss but to tell a mother that her little girl was gone....
I couldn’t protect my little brother either. 
I had been through so much truama that I honestly I felt guilty for asking someone to help me take the weight of this. 

There were long periods of time when Jane first became unwell, the months that followed with no diagnosis, and the times she had been rushed to critical care that we prayed she would make it through this but now no!! She was where she wanted to be with kids, and in her words those peices of her heart had been put back together. She was the happiest she had ever been in this aspect and together they would get though this devastating loss honouring Peter. Whilst she needed to manage her condition and its limitations she was making plans.....

More people knew.
It wasn’t something I could undo.
My life was burning down and there was no water to put it out.

 had text to say that she was coming to me. She has arranged for Coeys old childminder to collect him making an excuse to her about my car. When Hayley arrived I felt so relieved knowing she had come. How had it come to this for us? It was a club I didn't want to ..

The police arrived to take a statement which is the normal procedure when someone dies suddenly. They walked me through next steps and assured me that Jane was and would be taken care of. I was told that I couldn't leave yet but that once I could they would stay with her whilst I go and tell the kids.

I asked if I could speak to her as I wasn’t sure if I would get the opportunity. I spoke to Hayley about how I wanted to do things this time and she agreed. There were some things that occurred out of our control last time that I didn’t want to happen again. 

In my mind she wasn’t a grown woman.
She was my little sister.
The little girl I had always protected.
I felt like she could see what was happening.
Like she might be frightened.
So I spoke to her calmly.
I told her not to be scared. 

I told her I had her babies                                                     
I told her I had Mum.
I told her I had everyone.

I sat and tried to say ⁶ I wanted her to know including how proud I was to be her big sister. I asked god why her? Why know? Why couldn't she be happy? I said that I would swap places that she is needed here. 

I sang the song Nan used to sing to us ù

we were babies a song Jane sang to her own children.
As I sat there I noticed her toes.
Baby pink.
Bailey had done them for her.
They were perfect.
She’d been so happy with them.
Thank God she’d done them, I thought.

As the plan formed and reality hit me in waves, one thing stayed steady.
The promise.                                                                          

I had told her not to be frightened.
I told her I had her babies.
And I do.

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