The Last Will and Testament of the Youngest Son

THE LEGACY OF THE YOUNGEST SON

Sarahs eyes remain locked on the illuminated sign above: Operating Theatre. The words blur from countless hours of waiting, her heart beating frantically. Sarah fidgets endlessly with her youngest sons favourite toy car in her handsa plastic red tractor with a scoop at the front. Jamie, her four-year-old boy, had first wanted a blue tractor like the one in his favourite cartoon, but over time, he grew inseparably fond of this red one, a gift from his beloved father.

At last, a mans silhouette appears behind the frosted glass. The door swings open and a weary doctor emerges. Sarah leaps to her feet and rushes towards him.

Doctor, pleasehow did it go? Is Jamie alright?

The doctor bows his head apologetically, removing his mask.

Mrs. Smith, Im so very sorry. We did absolutely everything we could

***

Sarah curls up on Jamies bed, hugging her knees. The pillow still carries his scent. On the mirror opposite, a smudge from his biscuit-covered little hand is faintly visible. Thank goodness she never wiped that mirror cleanhe will never smudge it again, never nestle his tired head on that pillow.

Another salty tear traces down Sarahs wind-dried cheek. Grief has scorched her heart from the insideher healthy heart, the one Jamie, her youngest, was never given. Her oldest, Harry, is fit and nearly independenthes 18 now, studying at university. But Jamie he was the unexpected late joy that transformed into tremendous sorrow. All through pregnancy, every check-up showed nothing amiss; only seconds before she gave birth did a specialist discover his profound heart defect During the operation, something went terribly wrong, and now Jamie is gone.

***

Sarah drifts into an uneasy, restless sleep. Again, as in every recent night, she finds herself in a sunlit meadow, awash with blooms of every scent and colour. Standing in the distance is Jamie, smiling his familiar, gentle little smile, wearing his favourite shirt with the car pattern. In his hands is a magnificent bouquet of daisies.

Jamie! My darling! Sarah cries out, but Jamie seems not to hear, preoccupied with plucking daisy petals.

She dashes towards him, arms open wide. No matter how fast or far she runs, he never grows closerinstead, Jamie drifts further and further away. Sarah screams in despair, stretching to reach him, yet cannot grasp him. Suddenly, Jamie looks up and smiles at her, then quietly melts away. Only a drifting tumble of white daisy petals remains, softly falling to earth

When she hurries to the spot where the petals have landed, Sarah looks at her feetan address is spelled out in neat white letters formed by the petals on the green grass.

***

A ringing phone jolts Sarah awake. The screen displays Harrys name.

Yes, darling? Sarah croaks.

Mum, can I come round today? Could you make something nice, please?

A tight smile flickers over Sarahs lips. Enough. Its been nearly three months since Jamie passed away, but she still has her eldest son. She needs to pull herself together and keep going.

Of course, love. What would you like? How about some pancakes?

That would be brilliant, Mum! Im on the coach, nearly there!

Harry tries to visit every weekendhe wants to take his parents minds off things. The loss hurts him too, the thought of his little brother still weighing heavy. But life presses on, and they must heal together. Thats what family does.

Sarah forces herself upright and shuffles to the kitchen. Upon opening the fridge, she realises theyre out of milk. Her husband, John, sits nearby tinkering with a laptop circuit board. He peers over his glasses and asks,

Need anything, love? Should I pop to the shop?

Harrys on his way, asked for pancakes, Sarah replies evenly. Ill go to the shop myselfcould do with some fresh air.

John looks up in surprise. Shes coming back to life, he thinks with hope.

Sarah dresses and steps out. The soft spring breeze caresses her face, birds singing as tree branches begin to leaf with vibrant green. Life returns after winter. Sarah sighs, Jamie will never see his fifth spring

She shakes her head, fighting despair, and walks towards the corner shop.

***

Sarah grabs a carton of milk, some of Harrys favourite chocolate biscuits, a loaf of bread, and a chicken, then makes her way to the till. Suddenly, a familiar childish giggle erupts from behind the shelves. Sarahs heart tightensthe laugh is unmistakably Jamies. She hurries towards the sound, but only catches a fleeting glimpse of a child darting away. Knowing full well its impossible, Sarah cant help but follow the childs path, bumping into a cardboard stand for some special offer on the way.

She stoops to pick up the stand and freezes. Scrawled across its white surface in bold red letters is the very same address from her dream.

Jamie, my darling, what are you trying to tell me? Sarah whispers.

She returns home, her mind buzzing. Jamie wants her to find something, but what? She must look up the address online. Not today, thoughher only son is coming home now, and she needs to be there, strong for him.

***

That evening is warm and comforting, surprisingly so. Sarah even manages a few smiles as Harry regales her and John with stories from university. Harry tucks into her home cooking with relish, while Sarah and John watch him fondly. Their firstbornnow their only child. Eventually, everyone retires as night takes hold.

After a long and full day, sleep comes easily to Sarah. In the middle of the night, she awakes to the faintest soundsomeone is softly singing in the bathroom. Her heart pounds; she knows that voice anywhereits Jamie, murmuring his favourite tune from the blue tractor cartoon.

She swallows hard, climbs out of bed, and pads quietly towards the bathroom door, afraid to startle Jamie. As carefully as she can, she pushes open the door. Of courseno one is there. Tears spring to her eyes.

What did I expect? That Jamie would really be here? My Jamie is gone! This is just my grief twisting my mind, she chides herself.

Sarah moves to the sink, turns on the tap, and washes her face to clear her head. Enoughshe must stop tormenting herself. For John. For Harry. She glances at her reflection: a pale, hollow face, dark circles beneath her eyes.

Impulsively, she lathers her hand with soap and smears foam across the mirrorshe isnt entirely sure why. Slowly, streaks of soap trickle downwardmiraculously, they form the same address again

A chill steals through the room. Sarah distinctly hears a tiny childs voice behind her:

Im waiting for you, Mummy

***

Why arent you asleep? John sits up, bothered by the laptops glow.

Sarah is in the armchair, laptop open on her knees.

Come here, John. If you feel what I feel, then maybe all this isnt madness after all.

He joins her, his heart suddenly surging with strange warmth when his eyes fall on a photo of a small boy, about four years old.

Edward Green, aged 4, the caption reads. Edward lost his parents in a car crash three years ago and lived with his grandmother. After she passed, hes been in the childrens home for six months.

That addressthe one haunting meour Jamie keeps leading me to it, Sarah explains.

She tells John about her dream, the shop incident, and what happened in the bathroom. After a moments thought, John says decisively,

Sarah, were going.

***

Mrs. Peterson, the head of the childrens home, leads Sarah and John down the long, airy corridor, explaining the circumstances as they go.

When Edward first arrived, we thought hed be adopted quickly. He was raised by his grandmother, a loving home, very bright little boy. Three families tried adopting him, but every time, Edward closed off from strangers. I cant in good conscience send a child to a home he doesnt want. He says his mum and dad are coming for him, and hell know them when they arrive. For the past three months, hes had an imaginary friendcalls him Jamie. Just recently, Jamie told him his new mum and dad would find him soon.

Sarah and John exchange glances. Could their late son have reached out to help a grieving child?

Well, see for yourselves, Mrs. Peterson concludes, opening the playroom door.

Sarah recognises him instantlythe small, thin boy sits cross-legged, surrounded by others, humming Jamies favourite tune while building a tower of blocks. Edward turns, leaps to his feet and dashes towards them, shouting,

Mummy, Daddy! I knew youd come!

***

The adoption is expedited, thanks in great part to Mrs. Peterson. She is delighted that Edward finally trusts again, especially after hearing about Sarah and Johns loss. A month later, Sarah, John, and Harry come to collect Edward and bring him home for good. Just before they leave, Edward slips his hand from Sarahs and says,

Mummy, wait a minute. He looks down the corridor. Jamie wants to say goodbye to us!

Sarahs heart aches all over again, but now its a gentle, bright acheshe knows nothing can change the past, but life must go on. Now Edwards well-being depends on her, and she will find strength for him. Shell always love and remember Jamie, but now she has another little one to cherish.

Edward runs down the hallway towards the window, pauses, then races back to join his new familyhis mum, dad, and big brother. Outside, perched on the wide grey window ledge, a gleaming white dove unfurls its wings and soars upwards, circling above Edward, Sarah, and the rest of their family, blessing their newfound hope.