20

ELEPHANT WALK

I had to find a way of forgiving Stuart for what he’d done if I was to move on and help my children grow. If I forgave him, then I’d overcome my anger and resentment. But how much could I forgive, and how could I do this in a significant way – not just leave him in the photos and vow to keep a lid on it all? I couldn’t leave the elephant sitting in the room forever.

The solution slowly dawned on me over the evening after I’d started to cut up the photos. I resolved to do something that would change my life or at least steer me on a better course. I didn’t feel confident that it would be possible, but I was willing to try. I knew what I had to do. I made the decision on my own, knowing I’d have to carry it out on my own. I had to find the grave of my ex-husband, his wife and their daughter.

I caught a train from Newcastle to Sydney and then took the overnight train from Sydney to Melbourne, where I hired a car. The city was unfamiliar to me, but equipped with a map and general directions, I found the Calder Highway that led north-west towards Bendigo, and made the long drive to Heathcote.

Fortunately, it was a beautiful autumn day and I had all the time in the world, so I took the trip slowly. I bought some coffee and fruit in a milk bar along the way. As I approached Heathcote, I stayed calm by breathing evenly and deeply.

It took some time to find the cemetery, and I had to ask directions. I have absolutely no sense of direction, getting by these days with a portable satellite navigation system, so it was a miracle that I got to Heathcote at all. But I made it – nearly a thousand kilometres from my home in Newcastle.

Heathcote cemetery is one of the loveliest. It’s situated just outside the town and surrounded by huge old trees – Norfolk Island pines, oaks and elms. It was late in the afternoon when I drove into the small car park. The sun was low, but there was still warmth in the air.

It took me a while to find their headstones. I was starting to imagine myself wandering around the cemetery after dark. When I found them, I felt such a huge sense of relief that I foolishly said aloud, ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry it took me so long, but I’m here now.’

I sat down, laughing and crying simultaneously. The large black granite stone was warm, and I lay on it for a long time, trying unsuccessfully to stem the flow of tears. For what and who and why the tears had come, I wasn’t sure – for everything and everyone, for the unexplained and unanswered, for Sarah and Brendan and my family and me.

It was peaceful and there was no-one around, so I talked out loud. I can’t remember everything I said, but at the end of it I said what I’d promised I’d say. I told Stuart that, even though I would never understand why he did what he did, I forgave him.

By the time I walked back to the car, I’d stopped crying and felt all right. I promised myself to honour the decision I’d made, and I’ve done so to this day. Every time my thoughts turned negative, I’d remember that day.

Life was going on as usual that day in Heathcote. People were shopping, children returning home from school, cars cruising down the long, wide main street. I turned my hire car back onto the road and headed back towards Melbourne to begin the long trip home.

A few years ago I took Sarah to Heathcote on much the same journey. The movie Three Dollars was being filmed in Melbourne, and she was in the cast. We took a deep breath and drove up the highway to Heathcote. It was a private and very personal journey for her. She found the graves herself and shed many tears.

Afterwards we drove into Heathcote, and Sarah located the little flat where her father, Raken and Binatia had lived. It took a few drives up and down the street. Sarah had only visited a few times as a young girl, but she remembered that there was a stormwater drain running beside the flat.

Somehow I’d imagined the place as a spacious country flat with high ceilings and lots of character. The Stuart I knew had surrounded himself with nice things and had expensive tastes. Apart from that, he was the local doctor.

I was shocked when Sarah eventually spotted their former resid-ence. It was a plain ground-floor flat in a red-brick building devoid of trees, garden or character. Yet this is where they lived for years and died on that fateful night.

It was hard to imagine that flat featuring in a happy family scene. It must have been simply awful for Raken, especially in the winter with a small child. Seeing it drew my mind back to that last horrific day in March 1984. Sarah remembered the main bedroom with the double bunk and a tiny kitchen. She looked briefly in the window, as there was no-one around.

Returning to Heathcote was an important step for us both. Only time will tell if it was the right step. Brendan is yet to make this journey. The decision to do so is his and his alone.

It was a relief to get back on the highway and slowly wind our way back to Melbourne, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Some journeys are harder than others.