Before I left home (again) to pursue a nursing career in Perth, my mother invited Gar and Anthony for a goodbye dinner. They had already met my dad, the tall distinguished man with a BBC voice who also happened to be a chiropractor, but they didn’t really know my mother.
It had been nearly six months since my dad had died but, because he had given his consent for my relationship with Anthony – a relationship that hadn’t even developed yet – my mother, who had an instinct for romance, was supportive (reluctantly I am sure!) of me singing a song I had written for Anthony that night. Even though I still cringe with embarrassment at this memory, it may well be one of the most courageous things I have ever done. I had been playing the guitar and writing little songs for years but Anthony didn’t know that.
So, after the meal was nearly over, and Gar and my mother were happily chatting over dessert, I beckoned Anthony to my parents’ front veranda where my guitar was already placed. Of course he was a bit mystified but as we sat down and I reached for my guitar, he became almost as nervous as I was.
As my shaking fingers plucked the chords, I sang the following lyrics:
We’ve known each other for awhile, my old friend; we always make each other smile, my old friend. But I can’t go only saying I’ll miss you, when I know now I love you.
I can still hear the tune in my head! Anthony’s nonplussed reaction was “Oh, Jules, you are so sweet!”
We returned into the house, Anthony awkward and me blushing, and Gar immediately said what she often said when I took too long to fetch a billy of milk: “You’ve been having a cuddle, haven’t you.”
No!
jmgoyder 
What a lovely chapter in your lives.
Gar was a wonderful woman!
How sweet and lovely indeed
so sweet