Page 1 of Branson's Promise

Prologue

Branson - Age 17

The room smelled like disinfectant mixed with the scent of wilting flowers, but it was clean, warm and the dim lighting and lightly painted walls gave it a soft glow. It was meant to make people feel at ease, but I felt the opposite way standing at the foot of my father’s bed.

“Branson.” Dad’s voice was raspy, scratchy, as though it had been left in the sun, dried and dehydrated. He stretched out his frail hand to me and I shuffled forward, my eyes trained on his. He’d changed rapidly in the last few weeks. His skin was pale and paper-like, and his eyes had dulled, lacking their usualsparkle. And he was thin, like skin on bones and nothing more. My heart ached at the sight, and I blinked rapidly to clear my tears.

“Hey, Dad.” I stepped closer to the bed, taking his hand in mine. I struggled to find any words.How are you?sat on the edge of my tongue, an automatic string of words that seemed ridiculous in this situation. My mind halted at any other words, coming up completely blank. What did I say?Please don’t die. Please don’t leave me.

He could sense my unease, in the same way he could always read me. He had this intrinsic ‘dad’ way of thinking that meant he saw right through my lies and omissions. Dad dipped his head but didn’t say anything more. Mum had said it was a struggle for him to talk so even the fact that he had said my name was a huge feat. Dad had come to stay in hospice three days ago and at first, I hadn’t wanted to visit. I hadn’t felt brave enough to say goodbye to my favourite person in the world. I still wasn’t, but I also knew I had to be here or I would regret it for the rest of my life.

Dad coughed, a long, hard cough that had him bending at the stomach. The sound was rough, and I could see the discomfort in his face when he eventually caught his breath and leaned back on his pillow. I knew the cancer had reached his lungs. There wasn’t much of his body it hadn’t invaded. With my free hand, I reached for the cup and straw next to his bed and held it for him to take a sip. He nodded briefly before he spoke again, then turned his gaze to my mum who stood at the door, her lips pressed into a line that had them paling, tears skirting at the edges of her eyes. His words were slow, calculated and spoken like it took all the effort in the world to deliver, “L…lett..letter.”

My mum reached into the pocket of her long floral dress and pulled out a white envelope, then handed it to me, stepping forward, placing a kiss to my cheek before she left the room.

I studied the envelope, turning it over a few times, then traced my name written in shaky handwriting on the front. Dad coughed again and I looked away from the envelope to where he was watching me. “Do you want me to open it now?” I asked and he tipped his head so subtly it could have been missed had I not been tracking every movement of his frail body.

Taking a deep breath, I tore it open and took out the sheets of paper from within. It was dad’s handwriting, and it was dated three months ago.

To my dear boy, my perfect, amazing, wonderful son.

It breaks my heart that I am having to put these words to paper, but the time has come and though I would rather have spent a lifetime telling you all these things, I have been blessed with these years and unfortunately, they are now dwindling. I wish it wasn’t the case but wishing can only get me so far.

I rubbed furiously at the tears that were blurring my vision before continuing.

You are a good son - kind, loving, compassionate. You have made me proud every day and I know that this will be hard for you. As it will be for your mum. Take care of each other, but when the time comes, son, fly the nest. See the world. Live. Follow all those wild dreams of yours. Go to London like you’ve always wanted and take August with you.

I smiled at the mention of my best friend. His dad had chosen to leave him. I knew mine would do anything to stay.

Your mum will be fine. I know this because I have loved her since the day I met her, and she is the strongest, bravest, fiercest woman I know. I need you to trust her and trust mewhen I say that she wants you to live a life full of wonder, even if that means leaving her.

I looked away from the letter, toward my father, whose face was blurry through my tears. All the heartache, the pain, the fear of the unknown, poured from me in hot, heavy waves that I couldn’t stop, but there was so much more to read. Dad’s breaths were soft in the quiet room as I continued down the page.

I see you Branson, I see you and I love every part of you. You may meet people along the way who don’t see how amazing you are, but do not change who you are for anyone. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to watch you grow up into the young man that you are.

He continued on about the life he’d lived and the greatest moments in it and about falling in love. He called me bright and told me to never stop shining. Then he mentioned my mum again and my heart cracked even more. The love they shared looked like a fairytale to me and it hurt to think that my mum was losing the love of her life.

Your mum offered me friendship and love like I had never experienced before. I was happy alone, but the happiness I felt when she held my hand was insurmountable. Having someone to share my fears, hopes and dreams made traversing this life so much better. She has been my rock.

I hope you find your own rock one day. Maybe in a friend or a partner - whoever they may be. Life is not always easy my boy, I’m sad that you are learning that from such an early age, but it’s just that bit easier to handle when you’re not alone.

The letter was a jumble of his thoughts and feelings, as though he had so much to say but feared he wouldn’t get it all down in time. He talked about how he felt the day I was born, and how much he had looked forward to teaching me and watching me grow, and about the things he dreamed we would do together.

There is never enough time, Branson, it always goes too quickly. So, I am filling this letter with the little nuggets I always wanted to share with you, and I would have if we’d had more time.

I read on, notes upon notes of my father’s thoughts and hopes for me. His guidance and love filled both pages back and front with words I planned to read over and over until they were the very directions for the rest of my life.

His letter ended with a simple request.

In all of this, I hope you will be happy. Promise me, that wherever life takes you, whoever you meet, whatever job you do or place you settle down in, that you will be happy.

Fall in love. Travel. But always be who you are. Let no one change you.

I love you Branson. Now, and always.

Dad.

Placing the letter on the small table beside his bed, I sank down into the hard chair and buried my face in my hands, letting the pain seep from my eyes, holding nothing back as I sobbed for the person who would leave a huge hole in my heart.

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