Chapter Eight – Holding On [Narrated]

Welcome back to Holding On.

Last time, Rachel returned to the hospice—alone, but not unheld. The house faded behind her, but its echoes lingered: Emma’s silence. Liam’s tears. Chris, steady in the doorway. The weight of what’s coming, everywhere and unspoken.

Nothing dramatic unfolded. But something shifted. A phone call. A shave. A shared meal with her father. The slow choreography of goodbye, beginning not with words, but with presence.

Now, the morning brings them all back.

This chapter swells in quiet ways. A sweater. A story. A gift, wrapped in tape and hope. The children hold more than we think. Laughter finds a way through. And in the spaces between—a hand moves, a light flickers, a truth lands:

Still holding on. This time, not alone.

Chapter Eight

Chris stepped into the room, a grin tugging at his mouth, hands hidden behind his back. The blinking lights on his sweater announced him before he spoke. "Can’t leave you out of the festivities," he said, revealing a sweater so outrageous it nearly defied description. Blinking lights, tangled tinsel, and a fuzzy reindeer nose that lit up and wiggled with every movement.

Rachel let out a laugh, sharp and surprised, as if the tightness behind her ribs had slipped free. "Oh my god, Chris. Where did you even find that monstrosity?"

"Years of watching Blue Peter finally paid off," he said proudly. Then, turning to David, "Sorry, mate. I didn’t bring one for you."

David chuckled. "I think I’ll survive without looking like a walking Christmas tree."

Rachel pulled the sweater on with theatrical flair. The lights blinked to life as she spun around, tinsel jingling. "How do I look?"

"A proper star, love," Ralph said from the bed, his voice soft but full of mirth.

Even Lily, though unresponsive, let out a breath that felt quieter somehow—less burdened. For a while, the weight lifted.

Rachel noticed Liam standing off to the side, clutching a small, wrapped gift. She crouched beside him. "Liam, sweetheart, why don’t you give Granddad your present?"

Liam nodded, his grip tightening as he stepped forward. Ralph’s eyes softened, and he tousled Liam’s hair. "Come here, lad."

The room hushed. Liam pressed the crinkled package into Ralph’s hands. The tape job was ambitious; the wrapping paper was lumpy and endearing. Ralph chuckled.

"You’ve made sure this one’s secure."

Liam giggled. "Didn’t want it to fall apart."

Rachel handed over scissors. "Here you go, Dad. I’ll help."

"Careful, Mum! Don’t cut the present!"

"I’m being extra careful," she promised, snipping away.

Inside was a handmade picture frame, studded with beads and seashells. In it, a photo of Ralph and Lily on a park bench, with Liam and Emma squeezed between them—all of them laughing, ice cream cones in hand.

"It’s my favorite," Liam said. "I never want to forget that day."

Ralph ran his thumb across the cool glass, lingering where a chipped bead jutted from the frame.. "It’s beautiful. Just like all of you."

He nodded toward Lily’s table. "Why don’t you set it there and tell your Nana about it?"

Liam hesitated. Rachel knelt beside him. "You can, sweetheart. That would mean so much to her. And to all of us."

With a breath, Liam walked to the bedside. He placed the frame carefully, then climbed onto a chair and took Lily’s hand.

"Nana," he whispered, "I made this for you. From the day at the seaside when we were all so happy. I love you."

His words tumbled out in a rush, pure and unrehearsed. Ralph wiped his eyes. David turned away. Rachel clutched her father's hand, willing Lily to hear.

Then, from the doorway: "Grandad?"

Emma stood with a red binder. Rachel looked up, startled.

"I wrote something," Emma said. "For you and Nana."

Ralph’s face lit up. "Let’s hear it, sweetheart."

Emma opened the binder. "It’s called A Lifetime of Love."

Her voice was steady, threading together the story of Ralph and Lily’s life: how they met, built a home, raised children, became grandparents. She spoke of things only a quietly watching child would remember. Humor and truth in equal measure.

When she finished, she closed the binder gently. "The end."

Silence. Then Ralph’s voice, thick with emotion. "That was very special."

Emma stepped forward and took his hand. "I love you. And Nana too."

Ralph squeezed her fingers. "We love you more than you’ll ever know."

Rachel blinked through tears. David leaned towards her. "You’re doing a great job, you know."

She shook her head. "I don’t feel like I am."

"You don’t have to make it easier," he said. "You’re just supposed to be here. And you are. That’s what matters."

Emma lingered, her fingers tightening around the binder, eyes darting between Ralph and Lily. David caught her eye. "I think Nana would like to hear it too. Would you read it again?"

Emma hesitated. "You think she’d want to?"

"I know she would."

Emma took Lily’s hand and began again. Midway through, Lily’s fingers moved—just a twitch, then a gentle squeeze.

Emma didn’t stop reading. Rachel’s breath caught; her hand trembled against her lips. David stood frozen, his eyes glistening.

When the story ended, Rachel reached for David’s hand. "Together," she whispered. For the first time in days, she believed it.

The room held a hush, dense and breathless, like the moment before snowfall.

Then Liam said, "Can we sing carols now?"

Rachel blinked. "Liam, I’m not sure now’s the right—"

The nurse, standing in the doorway, offered only a quiet nod.

Ralph nodded too. "Let’s sing."

Liam lit up. He grabbed his jingle bells; Emma joined him. They launched into the song, loud and slightly off-key, but joyous.

Something shifted in the air—lighter, warmer. Nurses peeked in. Doors cracked open. Laughter trickled in from the corridor.

They moved to "O Holy Night," their voices softer now, reverent. Rachel glanced at Lily. Her breathing had grown shallower.

She knelt beside Liam. "Time to wrap up, love. Let Nana rest now."

He looked up, wide-eyed. "Is Nana okay?"

Rachel hugged him close. "She’s resting. But she knows how much you love her. She knows."

Emma joined them, arms wrapped around her brother. Rachel held them both as the final notes faded.

The blinking lights flickered. Rachel’s hand didn’t move.

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