Since Boak’s death I’ve been often called brave, strong, even amazing. I’m none of these.
As I sat in the peaceful front garden of the house that has been my home for the last 11 years, drinking my morning coffee and waiting for the removalists to arrive, I felt far from strong.
In fact I dissolved into a most uninspiring puddle of tears. What brought it on was the sudden blinding realisation that I was moving on, physically, to a place where Boak had never been, and I felt so alone and inadequate.
In a curious way this beautiful Victorian sandstone rectory has ‘hugged’ me as I’ve worked through my grief as best I could with the chaos going on around me this year. I’ve felt close to Boak, and in my familiar surroundings it’s been easy to feel God’s comforting arms.
The Princess and her parents lived with us here for 5 years, and it was from this house that the Princess and her mummy walked with her attendants to the church down the road where Boak married her parents, Ben and Sunny, just 4 weeks before he left us.
We erected a marquee in the garden for Lachy’s and Merry’s wedding reception 5 years earlier, and over the years we lived there this beautiful rectory, designed by Edmund Blacket and built in 1849, was the setting for engagement parties, baby showers, 21st birthdays, 60th birthday parties, countless dinners (including a Vice-regal occasion) and church family gatherings. There’s been much laughter and tears, but now it’s time to move on and allow another family to create a home within those massive sandstone walls.
Admittedly I have to share some of them with my neighbours, but they make me feel happy to wake up to every morning, and Chester has a spring in his step.
I know I’m not really alone, and while the sun might have set on one stage of life, now that I’ve made the move I’m enjoying the view and finally feeling positive about what the future might hold.