The Dead Wife's Handbook (49 page)

And I suppose, in a way, it’s only now that I’ve learnt how to die, too. Because that’s what this netherworld has been about, surely? All this time I’ve thought that the purpose of my access was to allow me to observe my family in mourning, to remain close to them and to watch over them as they come to terms with my absence from their lives. Now I see that it’s been my own grieving process too, the space for me to learn how to be without them. The freedom to mourn the family I miss, the life that I’ve lost, and the life that I’ll now never lead. Perhaps it’s an opportunity afforded only to those who die young or unexpectedly or, in my case, both; an opportunity, like that of the terminally ill patient, to assess your past and to prepare yourself for a future that will evolve in your absence.

All this time I’ve been fearful of Max and Ellie moving on without me. Now I understand that it’s my job to move on from them and that the time has come for me to do just that. Because if grief is the price we pay for love, then I think all of us have settled our debt now.

Max, Eve and Ellie have moved to the kitchen, where they’re feasting on our traditional Christmas morning breakfast of smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels. It comforts me to see that some traditions never change.

Max selects an album of Christmas carols on the iPod and the high soprano voice rings out both in their world
and mine. It’s beautiful and peaceful and I feel dreamlike, as if I’m witnessing the world through the sepia spectacles of a life I can see is now in the past.

It’s nearly time, I know, to leave. Not just for this morning, but for good. I know that the present is no longer mine to be a part of, even if only vicariously. It’s time for them all to pursue their lives without my passive interference and time for me to face whatever comes next. I’ve no idea what might follow this netherworld if I willingly relinquish my access to the living. But I do know that I don’t fear it, whatever it is. Because I understand that I’ve reconciled myself to the life that I led and the death that became me and that this acceptance was the only thing ever required of me here.

I’d assumed all this time that accepting my death would involve a recognition of the finiteness of existence, a confirmation that my past would perish with me and that all my relationships would be erased on my departure. I’d thought it would involve the acknowledgement that everything – every thought, feeling, hope, fear, desire, passion and memory – would expire with my body. I’d thought it was the acceptance that, in the end, nothing and no one can beat the transience of life.

But now I can see the sequence of imprints I’ve left indelibly behind me and I feel sure that all those I knew and loved will carry those legacies with them throughout their lives and will allow them to influence their own relationships, their own choices, their own journeys, whatever those journeys may entail and wherever they may lead.

It’s the acceptance that my greatest bequest to the world was love, and that there’s no legacy more enduring that anyone can leave rippling behind them.

And it’s with this acceptance that I can now honestly say, hand on defunct heart, there’s not a single thing I’d change about the way I lived my life, even if that mythical opportunity were available to me.

As the faintest of clouds begins to mist my view, I catch my final glimpse of Ellie, cream cheese smeared around her mouth, hungrily devouring the last of her bagel, curled up on Max’s lap and giggling at a joke the three of them are sharing, the newest member of their clan bounding excitedly around her feet. She looks happy, relaxed, a child no longer burdened by grief but instead embracing the family she knows will take care of her.

I wonder whether my departure from this netherworld heralds the end of all access through time immemorial or whether I might, one day, be granted the occasional return passage to watch her graduate or get married or have children of her own. It would be lovely to think that I might. But it wouldn’t be the end of the afterworld if I didn’t. Because I know that she’s going to be just fine, my little girl. They’re all going to be just fine.

The bright clouds thicken and the whiteness gathers beneath me and I know, unequivocally, that they’re eclipsing my view for the very last time.

IF YOU ENJOYED

The Dead Wife’s Handbook

and would like to discuss it with your friends, please turn over for our reading group questions.

Reading Group Questions

1. The novel is narrated by a deceased character. Do you think this made you more critical of the living characters’ actions than if the narrative was told from their point of view?
   
2. How do you think Max handled introducing Eve into Ellie’s life? Did you think he let his new relationship distract him from other responsibilities?
   
3. Were you surprised when you learnt about Eve’s infertility and estrangement from her parents? Did that knowledge make you more sympathetic to her? And do you think her parents should have behaved differently?
   
4. Did you feel that Harriet and Celia’s initial reactions to Eve were justified?
   
5. Were you rooting for Max and Eve’s relationship to be a success or were your sympathies with Rachel?
   
6. If you were in Rachel’s position do you think you could ever feel comfortable with another woman taking your place?
   
7. Do you think that Eve would make a good stepmother for Ellie? What did you like or dislike about their relationship?
   
8. The novel implies that there may be a future romance between Harriet and Connor. Do you think they’d make a good couple?
   
9. Do you think the book paints an accurate portrayal of grief? Was the use of the seven stages of grief helpful in segmenting the narrative?
   
10. Rachel ultimately comes to terms with the fact that life will continue without her. Is that how you expected it to end and, if not, what had you been hoping for?
    
11. One of the lasting messages of the book is that close relationships are more important than external achievements. Do you agree?
    
12. The title of the novel is ‘The Dead Wife’s Handbook’. What did you think about the lessons Rachel feels she’s learnt at the end of the novel? Did you agree with them?
    

Acknowledgements

I’m indebted to various works on the nature of grief, death and dying for helping to shape my thoughts about Rachel’s predicament: Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s
On Death and Dying
, Darian Leader’s
The New Black: Mourning, Melancholia and Depression
and the truly inspiring
Staring at the Sun: Overcoming the Dread of Death
by Irvin D. Yalom.

My thanks go to everyone at Penguin: to Sarah Hunt Cooke, Kate Burton and the Rights team; to Joe Yule, Katie Sheldrake and Olivia Ovenden; and most notably to my editor, Hana Osman, for her incisive notes, editorial guidance and for spotting potential in characters that helped make their lives – and this story – so much richer.

My agent, Luigi Bonomi, is the kind of agent every writer dreams of but only a few of us are lucky enough to have; he took a punt on a single chapter and his editorial insights, commercial astuteness and belief in the narrative were fundamental to shaping what the book would eventually become. He also does a pretty good line in avuncular advice to first-time mums.

I’m indebted to Stephanie Jackson for reading everything I’ve ever written and for her steadfast encouragement that I’d one day be publishable.

Horatia Lawson and James Ingle do the world’s greatest line in love, lunches and enduring friendship, and life would be immeasurably duller without them in it.

My nieces – Tamsin, Maddy, Jemima, Tilly, Esme and Lois – taught me so much about little girls before I had my own and inadvertently provided me with some of the better lines of dialogue contained herein.

My grandparents, Bidsa and Ronnie Beckerman, may no longer be alive to read this for themselves but their extensive ripples of influence – their love, pride and nourishment (both intellectual and culinary) – really will survive for generations.

My mum, Tania Bowler, has spent close to forty years walking the ten blocks (and back) for me more times than I can remember and I hope this book is, at least in part, testament to everything she’s taught me about maternal commitment. And I’m delighted that she’s had Jerry to keep her company (and make her happy) on her most recent journeys.

My beautiful daughter, Aurelia, arrived just in time to show me that parenthood is everything I’d imagined it would be (and more), and to open up an emotional world that’s infinitely richer and considerably more fun than I would have dared hope.

And to my husband, Adam Jackson: saying a mere thank you seems woefully inadequate given that without his love, support, wise counsel and insightful readings – not to mention numerous weekends of solo childcare – the book would never have been finished. But thank you and I love you.

THE BEGINNING

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Published in Penguin Books 2014

Copyright © Hannah Beckerman, 2014

Cover illustration by Kate Forrester

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ISBN: 978-1-405-91281-5