Thud. Thud. Thud. Those first shovel loads of soil hitting the coffin lid. All so definitely, horribly final. Until then, everything seems dream-like. Unreal. Then that thud. Every time I hear it, it gets me. Last Sunday it got me again. Because early last Saturday Lucy Same, Sweetheart Vivienne’s mother, my mother-in-law, died, bringing to an end 65 years, seven months and two days of marriage to her adored Saul. History is replete with famous partnerships – Woodfull and Ponsford, Rogers and Astaire, Abbott and Costello, Hewlett and Packard come readily to mind – but famous long-term marriages are thin on the ground. Or if not, I can’t think of many. My in-laws’ marriage, self-evidently long, was also famous. At Sunday’s funeral, an Australian Government Minister as good as said that the Labor Party wouldn’t be in government today if not for Lucy and Saul. Heady stuff to some. But not to them – two people bound not only in love, but also in belief. Models of integrity undistorted by vanity or self-interest. Their marriage was – is – a role model for anyone’s. Everyone’s. Sweetheart Vivienne’s and mine included. Yesterday ours reached 41 years and one month. I hope we’ll be blessed with many many more years together. But I don’t know that. No guarantees apply, sir. But I do know I treasure every moment I spend with her. If you’re not sure why, click here. Lucy lives on in Sweetheart Vivienne, and therefore in our darling children and grandchildren. If that’s not cause for celebration, I don’t know what is.
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