Love Lives on in My Heart

LOVE LIVES ON IN MY HEART

After Sidney passed away, I struggled to concentrate on anything. The typewriter that Joan gave me was my savour. I had never typed before and am still very slow, but I started to hit the keys and copy my poems. I found that time flew by, and I had peace.

Christmas was a sad, empty time, but my family filled in many gaps.

 I picked up Sid’s ashes in January; they were in two blue plastic containers. I shall never forget holding them close to my heart and vowing I would fulfil his wishes: “Cast them to the wind on the Wonnie, Darlin.” I intended to empty one into the Woronora River as he wished, but the other, on his Mum's and Dad’s graves in London. I felt as if Sidney needed me to do this.

My son’s lovely wife, Lorraine, took me up the river in their boat so I could carry out Sid’s wishes. The moonlight on the water was beautiful. We sat there, reminiscing about the happy times together with Sid. She had helped me many times; here she was again, my rock. My heart was breaking, but at the same time, I was happy to release Sidney’s ashes…Does that make sense? I silently prayed as I emptied the ashes onto the incoming tide. I watch them float and then disappear. We sat there, quiet, with our thoughts, under the beautiful blue velvet sky. Lorraine brought me back; “We better get going. I haven’t got a light. The moon is disappearing behind that mountain.”

 I left in February on an around-the-world ticket. On my way home, I booked a five-day stopover in New Zealand. 

I packed some of Sidney’s things and made photo albums for his family;                                                                                Dolly, George, and Phyllis lived in England, and Alf lived in Florida.

 It was a long, lonely flight to the UK. The plane was packed, and the lady beside me could not speak English.

 Dolly and her son Dean met me at Heathrow. It was a very emotional meeting. I knew there was a special bond between Sid and Dolly. She was eleven when he was born. She practically raised Sid. Their mum was bedridden most of her life, and their father couldn’t keep a job for long. Booze saw to that.

We crammed into Dean’s car, and he fought his way home through peak-hour traffic. Dollies' husband, Ted, was in the garden when we arrived. I was glad to unfold and stretch my legs. He welcomed me with a gentle hug…as if I might break. He turned and pointed to the kitchen. He had a pot of tea ready and thick slices of Dollies’ bread pudding. It took four days to get over the trip. 

We spent time reminiscing. Dolly told me a lot about Sid’s early years and their families’ experiences through the war. She said Sid left school at twelve and worked in a broom factory. When he turned fifteen, he joined the Norwegian Navy under an assumed name, stating his age as seventeen. He had training on a sailing ship before being transferred to a merchant ship. He spent time in the North Sea. The merchant ship was torpedoed by a German U-boat in 1942. Sid and two others survived for eight days in a life raft. Six sailors died. Sidney spent months in the hospital. When he recovered, he learned bricklaying. Later, he joined the British Merchant Navy. Sid hadn’t told me much about growing up in London or the war years.

Dolly looked so sad when she told me her dad had tried to find Sid for fifteen years. She was so happy when Sid’s letter arrived, and she could read it to their father. She said he passed away peacefully a few days later. I was so glad to hear all this. I filled in some gaps for Dolly. 

Sid had landed in Australia in 1964. He resigned from the Navy and made Australia home. 

He got a job with Hennessey Pty: Ltd, a refractory bricklaying company, working on furnaces and chimneys. Sid worked for that company until his death in November 1987. 

We set our wedding date for June 1969. I encouraged Sidney to write to his family. After many attempts, his father finally received a letter from his long-lost son. I sent our wedding plans and photos, but sadly, that parcel didn’t reach him in time. Dolly said their father passed away peacefully, knowing his son was happy and was getting married. She was a lovely, roly-poly woman with a big heart and an infectious laugh. I yawned, and Dolly ordered me to bed. I slept for ten hours!

 The next day, Dean drove me to the cemetery; Dolly wasn’t well enough to go with us. It was early Spring when I walked down a lane lined with trees covered with pink and white blossoms, crocuses and tiny daisies scattered on the lawn. It was a beautiful place.

Sid’s mother had passed away in the war years. She was buried in a Pauper’s grave. A bomb had destroyed their home sometime before her death, and they lost everything. There wasn’t money for the burial. Sid and his two brothers were on duty; he didn’t know his mum had passed away until weeks later. I am afraid he beat himself up, as he could have been on leave but cancelled to join another ship. 

Sidney’s mother’s grave was in a sea of soft green grass. Written on a small plaque, Sarah Samways, Rest in Peace.

 I felt sad as I sat there thinking about Sid and his mum. Finally, I dug a small hole, put half the ashes there and covered them. I left a bunch of daisies and bawled back to the gate. Dean helped me to the car and drove home. I cried in Dolly's arms but felt better afterwards. Ted wanted to help with kind words and had the teapot ready.

We took a trip over to Dunkirk on the Car Ferry. We went to see the memorial to the brave men and women who lost their lives trying to save the troops on the beach. Sidney was in one of the craft that volunteered to try and rescue thousands of Allied Troops stranded on that beach. Thousands were killed, and lots of boats sunk by the German artillery dug in on the hill above that beach. We went up to the top on a small train. There, we read about that fight and rescue effort. I stood on that hill looking down on that beautiful beach, thinking about my Sid. He didn’t want to talk about it, and I didn’t push him. He was one of the lucky ones to get back to England. Thousands didn’t make it.

We returned to the beautiful old city and had lunch in a patisserie. The apple and berry pastries with thick cream were delicious.

 After a quick walk around the area, Ted drove to a vast German supper market and filled the boot with groceries. He said they were much cheaper than the UK, and he still saved, even with paying fares on the ferry. 

It was time for me to move on. Although I felt sad to leave, I promised to return.

I moved in with Sid’s eldest brother George and his wife Edie; she was like one of the stars in a British soapie. “Allo lv. U alright. Gotta go un get George’s backer and pie, back in a tic, lv.” George related stories about the old days. He used a lot of Cockney sayings like ‘bag of fruit,’ suit ‘, rubidium,’ pub, milk and kisses, and Missis. He said, “Sid glued a penny to the footpath once, and we hid and watched as people tried to pick it up. Dad gave us all a wack with a broom.” A penny was important back then. It was so good to hear the stories and to laugh.

George went with me to the London Cemetery. He turned back at the gate. He said he couldn’t go with me to his father’s grave; he would be at a nearby pub. 

I went to the office to get the directions to the grave. I was handed a one-hundred-yard tape measure and instructions on how to find his grave. The man informed me that a flood had washed all the headstones and identification numbers away several years ago. 

It took me over an hour, and I wasn’t sure, even then, if his remains were there. Again, I sat on the grass and dug a hole, placing the last of Sid’s ashes and covering them. 

I felt limp and alone but was glad that was over. I could move on.

I found a very drunk George in the pub. He saw me coming and ordered a shot of whiskey, a pint of Guinness, and lemonade. I was happy to drink them down; usually, it would take me hours to empty one glass. Anyway, it dulled my senses and wobbled my legs. 

I don’t remember returning, but I remember Eddie hugging me and sending me to bed. 

I stayed a few days to be with Sid’s family. I felt sad when I waved goodbye.

 I went by train to Clacton-On-Sea to stay with Sid’s youngest sister, Phyllis, Sid and their two daughters, Pam and Charlotte. They took me sightseeing. I went to Bingo with Phyllis, and we all went to a sing-along at the pub. I stayed for four emotional days. Pam promised to visit me when she had saved enough money. She had just started work.

  I joined the plane to America. I was feeling more settled. I looked forward to spending a few weeks with Sylvia and their family in Virginia. It was so good to move into their happy home. They spoiled me. The grandkids kept me on my toes. We went to Sam’s restaurant. We ate huge breakfasts: bacon and eggs, tomato, mushrooms, and a pancake and syrup, all on the same plate! We had a day exploring the Blue Ridge Mountains. We sat in a restraint with a glass wall; the view was magnificent. Squirrels were eating corn cobs that the staff had placed on the fence. Chipmunks joined in. It was a lovely day out.

Sylvia and Dan did all that was possible to keep me smiling.

   Sylvia went with me to visit Alf, Sid’s brother, in Fort Myers. We had a few days with him in his new Condominium. He broke up when I presented him with Sid’s gold watch. When he could speak, he told me he had given it to Sid as a going-away present. Sid had sailed away in 1960. 

We stayed a couple of days, and I promised, “I would keep in touch, Alf.”  

Sylvia and I moved to my friends, Clare and Alex Fowler. Sid and Alf had sailed with Alex after the war. I met them in 1974. 

They had a vast home, hurricane-safe, built beside a canal. We enjoyed the pool room and sailing with their son on the alligator-infested river. Sylvia and I had a lucky escape in the canal. We were paddling a two-man canoe, enjoining the sights, when we saw two giant alligators slither into the muddy water. We saw their snout and eyes coming towards us. Gone was synchronisation. We paddled to a boat ramp, jumped out and lifted the craft onto the drive. The gators were cruising in circles. The home was empty. We realised we could not return home on the canals, so we left the canoe and returned to the Fowlers. Neither of us had worn shoes. We had blisters on our feet—no mobile phones to call for help back then. Clare doctored our feet with Aloe Vera jelly and wrapped them up. 

We sat down to a vast ‘Thanksgiving’ feast that night in honour of Sidney. Alex stood up and raised a toast, a tribute to Sidney. There were twelve around the table and not a dry eye.

When we returned to her family, Sylvia and I were still hobbling. I spent three days there before flying home. 

It was a sad farewell. We promised not to cry, but that didn’t work. I did get through the gate before the flood.

 I flew across America and then to New Zealand. I was looking forward to five days there. I hoped I could pull myself together and cheer up before returning home. 

  I sat next to a young American backpacker on the flight. She spent two weeks there, then to Aus on a six-month visa. She would work on fruit picking. I told Pat I had booked at the Aspin Lodge, it was new and cheap, but I had to pay extra. Would she 

Would you like to share? She was pleased with the idea. I suddenly thought, ‘I go again, jumping in with both feet.’ Pat did seem OK! Anyway, we booked in together. It worked out well. 

I was going to Russell for a tour of the Islands, but it was cancelled owing to bad weather. It rained every day. I did tours of Dunedin, the harbour, and another to see the fireflies in caves. The scenery often changed from flat, crisscrossed with streams, stocked up to their bellies in green grass, to craggy mountains. The countryside was beautiful.

Rotorua is a fantastic place. The attractions are boiling mud, and the Maori use hot mud and steam funnels to cook food. The stink of sulphur was overpowering at times. I had to use my scarf as a mask. 

I stayed overnight at the International Hotel. They cooked the traditional hangi, a pig, chicken, cabbage, sweet potato, and onions in a covered basket in the mud. It was a great night. I did have a few drinks and remember joining the dancers. I found a hot spar in the backyard. It took a while to sit down. I drifted asleep and woke up, drained of energy and looking like an old prune.   Pat left early on my last morning. She promised to call me later.

I packed, and the bus arrived to take me to the airport. I had hidden some things under the carpet behind my bed. I took off my shoes and pulled the bed towards me. The middle caster ripped my big toenail up. I nearly fainted. I wrapped my foot in a towel and ran to the desk. The porter looked at the blood and my toe and promptly fainted. The bus driver called the hospital and a taxi; he said the ambulance would take too long. He said he would fix it with Qantas. He did, and they waited for me.

The doctor needled my toe and removed my nail. I had painkillers as well. The ambulance raced me to the airport, and a cherry-picker lifted me to the Jumbo’s open door.

 I was wheeled to a business class seat as the door slammed, and we took off. The crew was very concerned. I had a brandy. It wasn’t a good mix with the painkillers, but I wasn’t feeling pain when we landed in Sydney. My sister and her husband met me. They were shocked when I was wheeled out of customs with a massive bandage on my foot.

 They said I was high and saying stupid things. Anyway, I was home safe, though I slept with my foot in a box in the bed until the nail started to grow.

I settled back into my empty home. It took a few days to face my situation, which had been an emotional journey.

 I took to the typewriter again. There was a lot to write about.

2,634 words

By…Aunty Thelly 

Thelma Martin: -© 31/03/2020