I'll see you in my dreams

I could have been looking in a mirror. They say that we all have a doppelganger out there somewhere. If that's the case, I had found mine.

Yes, he had ginger hair and I had brown. I spoke with an Australian accent, he was Welsh. But the likeness was eerie. We looked at each other and never said a word. Not for a moment anyway. What do you say in a situation like this? He spoke first. “Hi, I'm Evan Jones”. My name was Jones too, Michael Jones. But hey, we were in Wales, almost every second person’s name was Jones. It was very unlikely that we were related. 

I knew that I had some Welsh heritage, that was one of the reasons I was travelling around Wales. But my knowledge was sketchy. My grandmother came to Australia at the end of the war. She arrived as a very young widow, pregnant, with no papers, no photos and very few possessions. My grandfather had died in action. She was all alone.

Gran has been dead for many years now, but she was much loved and my memories of her remain strong. She was an amazing lady. After giving birth to my father, she never married, remaining a single mother, devoted to her son, and then when I arrived, to her only grandson. She never spoke of her life in Wales. We didn't know where she had lived, who her family was or even anything about her husband. When we asked, she would say, “that was another life, it isn't important, my life here in Australia with my family is what is important now”. She was not going to be moved, so we never pushed her.

She is the reason that I am here today, in this little Welsh seaside town. Her memory had drawn me to Wales. I thought about her all the time. And here, in Wales, the thoughts were overwhelming me. She had been my best friend. In her eyes, I could do nothing wrong. I remember her all enveloping hugs with great fondness. I remember being snuggled up in bed beside her, under the doona, with the blinds pulled up so we could see the stars. We told each other how much we loved each other. She read me stories and we would create our own.  And I remember her singing to me. Her favourite song was one from her childhood, “I’ll see you in my dreams”. It was the only childhood memory she shared with us, so it was even more special.

Evan invited me home to meet his family. I jumped at the chance. When you are travelling, there is nothing nicer than sharing time with locals. Sitting around the table with his parents, wife and children, I immediately felt very at home. Our likeness was the topic of conversation and they quizzed me about my heritage. But of course, I had nothing to tell them. It was a really nice thought that we could be related, I did like the idea of having an extended family here, but it was just a fantasy.

The inevitable happened, out came the photo albums. And one photo jumped out at me. What was my father doing in their family album? Of course, it wasn't my dad, that was impossible. It was Evan’s grandfather. The likeness was uncanny. How many coincidences could there be? Our curiosity was certainly aroused now. We all felt that we had to find out more.

I rang my dad at home in Australia. Not surprisingly, he had nothing more to tell me. He had gone through his entire life knowing very little about his ancestors, not even his own father.  His life was filled with his mother’s love, but his family was a complete unknown to him. However, he was intrigued and we arranged for him to send me some photos of his mum when he was a child. 

My new found family (yes, I was already starting to think of them like this) were also setting things in motion. The keeper of their history was Evan’s grandmother, Maggie. She was 94 years old, still as sharp as ever and living in a local care home. We arranged to meet.

Walking into her room, I saw a wizened, little old lady, with snowy white hair and more wrinkles than I’d ever seen on one person. One of those faces that make you feel completely at ease straight away. Immediately, I felt an immense joy. She smiled at me, with my Gran’s smile. As soon as Maggie saw the photos of my Gran, she burst into tears. Happy tears, sad tears? At first it was hard to tell. I think it was a bit of both. They were sisters. She wrapped her arms around me and I felt like I had come home. And the story emerged. 

Maggie’s wedding day was the last time she ever saw her sister. After the ceremony, Jessie disappeared and was never heard from again. There had been police searches. Had she been abducted? Had she drowned? Or had she just run away? If that was the case, why would she do that? Nobody could think of a reason for her to leave. It remained a mystery and it brought a sadness to the entire family that never really went away.

Maggie never believed that her sister was dead. She saw her in her dreams and knew that she was living a good life. She knew that Jessie would not have left without a good reason, but never knew what that was. And she kept looking for her, always, everywhere she went. 

But life goes on and Maggie and her husband had a good marriage, with a family of their own. It was many years later that a piece of the puzzle finally fell into place. On his death bed, her husband confessed that he had slept with her sister before they were married. They were both ashamed of what they had done and when Jessie disappeared, he knew she had run away because of the shame. He had been carrying this dreadful secret around for many years, he had told no one.

It didn't take much thinking for all of us to realise that when Jessie arrived in Australia, she was carrying his child. The son who bore such a striking resemblance to his father that their photographs could be mistaken for each other. At first the room descended into a stunned silence. Revelations like this can have unexpected consequences. Everyone in that room had been living with a lie all their life. We looked at each other, not sure what to do or what to say. 

We took our cue from Maggie. After all, she was the one who had been wronged. She was the one who had lost her sister. She was the one whose husband had strayed and who kept this knowledge to himself for so many years. I learned at that moment that Maggie was as special as my Gran. There was no negativity. She had come to terms with her husband’s indiscretion and her sister’s betrayal. Even with that knowledge, she simply hoped that Jessie had lived a life as happy as hers had been.

No wonder Evan and I looked so alike. We shared the same grandfather and our grandmothers were sisters. We were cousins. This was not a fantasy, I had actually found family on the opposite side of the world. I was overjoyed at finding my dad’s family and so was he. I knew that he would be on the next plane over here. But my overriding thoughts were with my gran. I wished she was still here to see that everything was alright, that everything was okay. That Maggie loved her then and always has. 

Perhaps if the truth had come out at the time, she may not have been so forgiving. That's something we will never know. And you can see why Jessie ran away. She loved her sister so much that she didn't want to put a strain on her happiness. This would have created quite a scandal in that little town, one that the family may never have recovered from. And who knows what the impact on the sisters’ relationship would have been, or on the new marriage. But that was all in the past.

Maggie and I talked for hours. I told her about my gran’s life in Australia. About her rich life with my dad and the special relationship I had with her. She told me about their lives as children and what good friends they always were. There was no anger, there was total forgiveness and sadness that it had meant they had lived such completely separate lives. It felt good that this huge serendipitous event had such a positive outcome. I knew that learning who we were and becoming part of this family was something extraordinary for both my dad and myself. And I could see that Maggie had achieved a kind of peace, one that she’d been long hoping for.

She was a very brave woman, my gran. She was a remarkable woman, a strong woman. Here was her sister, an equally amazing person. I felt proud that they were my kin. I felt honoured that I was the one who was able to bring them together at last, even if only in memories. The feeling was overwhelming, meeting Maggie was almost like having my gran back again.

It’s possible to think of my gran’s life as sad. She left her family and her heritage behind and had to start again with nothing, all alone and living a life based on a terrible secret. I don't think that this is how she saw it. She saw it as a new beginning, she worked tirelessly to build a good life for her and my father. There must have been times of loneliness, of sadness, of guilt, of despair. But there were also lots of times of happiness and joy. I'm sure she missed her family and her home terribly, but she had made her choices for all the right reasons and she made every day count. 

She was a dreamer, she always had her dreams. Her dreams of her past life and her new life. Her dreams for her child and grandchild. That was all she needed to make her happy. She has passed that heritage down to me and I am so grateful to her. I have my own dreams now. 

Thank you gran, I know that it was you who brought me here today.

I’ll always see you in my dreams.