Post card from the bottom of my garden 22nd July 2002

My garden today
 

On 22^nd of July 2013 the announcement of England’s new born Prince George of Cambridge reached world wide audience, but little me will always associate the date with the departing of my husband’s soul from this planet in the year 2002. Was it seven years itch, was it unconditional love not enough or was it the cricket he could not play that he had to leave me? I shall never know. Anyway, I had my husband dressed up in his MCC cricket outfit and left his cricket bat and a cricket ball and his favourite Cricket book with few more messages in his coffin and I organised a catholic burial in Coventry, not his choice, as he would rather be in Purley (Surrey);  so I brought Purley into my home by building a shrine in my garden and here is what I had to say:  

                                                         

                                                       Purley Sports Club in Heaven

                                                  That thing at the bottom of the garden,

                                                            that arched gate to heaven

                                                                 is not the Pearly Gate
                                                 Which my mother always talked about
                                                 That thing at the bottom of the garden,
                                                              that arched gate to heaven
                                                         is in fact known as Purley Gate
                                                which my mother had never known about.
                                                   That thing at the bottom of the garden,
                                                               that arched gate to heaven
                                                              leads a way to a cricket field
                                                              where I know one kind soul
                                                           is enjoying his game in eternity.

 (The above poem was published on the back of the booklet titled THE SIX GENTLMEN the Centenary of Purley Sports Club 1905-2005; my husband was a member and played for the club throughout his working life).

                                          That arched thing at the bottom of the garden in 2002

 My husband died at the age of 67 and there were plenty of people who thought that his death was too early, so those who could not keep their options to themselves, I had few angry words for them:

                                                                       Death at 67
                                                              Death has no boundaries,
                                                           it does not have a time span.
                                                             Death comes to all of us.
                                                                 it is cruel and it hurts
                                                        the people who are left behind.
                                                              Death has no boundaries.

It comes to all of us,

                                                    even when you are only a day old
                                                             It can take your life away.
                                                    So those who think that sixty-seven
                                                                 is too young for death
                                                                 think of those who are
                                                      taken away in their mother’s womb.
                                                               Death has no boundaries
                                                               it does not have life span.
                                                             Death is what happens to us
                                                    while we are busy making other plans!
                                                    So, please, please don’t question death
                                                           once it’s taken away from you.
                                                                        Instead live life
                                               before death suddenly appears at your door!

 For my own piece of mind I had built a small box and filled it up with these memories:

                                                                          In my box

                                                                  In my box I will put
                                                               the memories of my love
                                                          his zest for life shone thorough
                                                                         ill health and

    his lasting smile

                                                                      his gentle laughter
                                                     his soft voice which called my name
                                                    are all safely tucked away in my box.
                                                        His little wink of his hazel eyes
                                        his small kisses blown gently through pouted lips
                                                                       and his big hugs
                                                                  are few more memories
                                                     locked away for ever in my little box.

 With my little box locked in my heart, I picked myself up and dusted myself down and started to search for the purpose of my existence on this planet? What I really, really wanted was to stop the world so that I could get off, instead I opted for a practical option, to travel to the end of the world for my answer. I knew my husband’s brother lived somewhere at the end of the world, King Island, Tasmania (he moved there with his family from Melbourne). I started planning for my journey to the Island with few stops on the way. I applied for VSO to work in Bangladesh for a year  and to help me with my journeys I joined a women’s club (Women Welcome Women Wide World… 5W). Along with a Lonely Planet Book as my sole guide I left home for my first trip in summer of 2003.