The Wing With Her Name

STORY CONTAINS SUBJECT OF DEATH AND MOURNING.

Ann and Mary had not always been close. Growing up, the two girls couldn't seem to get along. Their brother, Rick, had been closer to Ann because they went to the same parties and shared some of the same friends, while Mary had her own circle and interests. Somehow, as the years passed, the two sisters who couldn't get along grew into women who became the best of friends.

They shared make-up secrets, discussed their health, and believed in doing good rather than doing harm. Both women loved animals, particularly dogs, but Ann took her love a little further by rescuing dogs from the shelter, bringing them home and training them. Mary understood why Ann rescued the dogs: she shared that love, and the animals became one more thing that brought the sisters closer together.

Ann had already been through one bad marriage when she met Lee and found the love of her life. They lived together for years, shared a home, and cared for their dogs together, but there was one thing Ann refused to do.

Lee asked her to marry him more than once, and each time Ann gave him the same answer.

“No.”

Mary couldn't understand it. “You love him, don't you?”

“Of course I do.”

“You've lived together for years.”

“I know.”

“So why won't you marry him?”

“I don't want to.”

Once Ann made up her mind about something, changing it wasn't easy. Mary didn't understand her sister's decision, but she stood by her anyway because Ann was happy with Lee, and that was what mattered.

Then Ann developed a backache that lasted two weeks and wouldn't let up. When Mary learned how long her sister had been hurting, she became concerned.

“Ann, you must go to the ER now."

“I don't need to go. It's not that bad,” Ann said. “It didn't hurt that much walking the dogs this morning.”

“Tell her, Mary. She won't listen to me,” Lee said.

“Ann, you go today, or I'm driving out there to get you myself.”

Ann didn't go, and several hours later Mary called her again.

“Ann, how is it going now that you've had some time to sit and chill?”

“It's no better, but I've got a heating pad going.”

“That doesn't seem to be doing you any good. So I'll be right over.”

Mary drove over and took her sister to the emergency room herself. They hadn't expected anything more than a long wait, but Ann was still filling out the paperwork when someone came and took her into triage.

“I'm not finished yet,” Ann said, looking at the forms.

Apparently, not being able to finish them frustrated her. Before long, the doctors moved Ann from the emergency department to a room on the third floor, where the word "oncology" told them this wasn't going to be the simple back problem Ann had expected. She needed more tests, including an MRI, to find out exactly what was happening inside her.

Mary called Ann's daughter, Marca, who lived two hours away.

“The news isn't good, Marca. You need to come as soon as possible.”

After Mary hung up, she returned to Ann's room, where Lee sat beside her bed. When the doctor came in with a smile, none of them knew what to expect.

“Good news, everyone. Ann can go home. Today.”

“What do you mean?” Mary asked.

“She'll have to come back Tuesday for chemotherapy and radiation, if needed. But it looks like she'll have two years, perhaps a little more.”

“What?” Ann said.

“Oh my gosh,” Mary said. “This cannot be right.”

That morning Ann had walked her dogs and insisted that her back didn't hurt badly enough to go to the hospital. Now a doctor was telling them she had cancer and that two years was good news.

When the day came for Ann's first chemotherapy treatment, Lee, Mary, and Marca were all in good spirits. Treatment was beginning, which meant they were doing something about the cancer rather than simply waiting to see what happened.

Three hours later, none of them felt quite as cheerful. Ann couldn't handle the chemotherapy well and began vomiting and sweating until her clothes were soaked. Mary and Marca helped clean her up while Lee helped her to the washroom.

“Honey, I've got you. Everything will be okay,” Lee said.

When they got home, Lee carried Ann into their bedroom and laid her on their king-sized bed. She could barely keep her eyes open and soon passed out. Mary went into the bedroom periodically and lay beside her sister, although she didn't know whether Ann was aware she was there. Marca did the same, each of them taking turns lying beside someone they loved when there was little else either of them could do.

The time soon came for Ann's next chemotherapy treatment, but the doctors couldn't give it to her because her liver count was too high. They ordered an immediate CT scan to find out what was happening, and the results weren't what any of them had hoped for.

The chemotherapy hadn't stopped the cancer. The treatment had weakened Ann's body, while the cancer continued to spread and grow like wildfire through dry bush. The prognosis went dark, and although Mary and Marca understood what the doctors were telling them, Ann and Lee somehow did not.

Ann and Lee went home hopeful, believing there would be another treatment and more time. They went on with their days without much thought for how quickly Ann's condition was getting worse, while Mary and Marca found themselves travelling in the opposite direction. They had understood what the doctors meant and had already begun mourning Ann even though she was still alive.

The saddest part was that neither woman could allow Ann or Lee to see what was happening to them. When they were together, Mary and Marca smiled, did ordinary things, and discussed whatever came next. If Ann was hopeful, they were hopeful with her, and if Lee believed everything would work out, neither of them wanted to be him otherwise. Their grief had to wait until they were alone.

During all of these events, the shelter where Ann had rescued some of her dogs contacted Marca.

“Would it be okay if we did something for your mother, very much in her style?”

Marca knew immediately how much something like that would mean to Ann. Unfortunately, Ann never got the chance to find out because she died before anyone could tell her what the shelter had planned.

The people at the shelter could have allowed the idea to end with Ann's death because what they had planned was supposed to have been a gift for her while she was alive. Instead, they continued with it and turned their gift into a tribute.

The shelter was building a new facility, and they put Ann's name on one of its wings.

Ann would have been beyond belief honoured.

For Mary, Marca, and Lee, seeing Ann's name there made losing her a little easier to bear. None of them could stop what happened to her. Mary had insisted that Ann go to the hospital, Marca had stayed beside her mother, and Lee had cared for Ann and carried her when she became too weak to walk on her own. They had done everything they knew how to do, but none of them could keep her from dying.

The shelter managed to do something for Ann that none of them could do. It gave her a place she could do something, and it put her name on a building that had meant something to her.

Dogs would pass through the wing carrying Ann's name. Some would arrive frightened, some abandoned, and others unwanted, but they would all be waiting for someone to decide they were worth another chance, just as Ann had done so many times.

Mary thought about the dogs. Over the years, Ann had brought them home, and neither sister could have imagined that the girls they had once been would eventually become best friends. She remembered their make-up secrets, their conversations about their health and animals, and all the ordinary things they had once believed they would have years left to talk about.

Looking at Ann's name on the shelter wing didn't take Mary's grief away, and she knew nothing ever would. At last, the grief had somewhere else to live besides inside her.

Somewhere beyond the wall carrying Ann's name, a dog barked; Mary smiled, knowing her sister would have loved that.