Anthony asks this question at least once a week and, because it distresses him, I have to be really careful with my answers. If I say she is fine and at home on the farm, he worries that she is alone and I have to reassure him that Ming is there with her.
This wonderful woman, Anthony’s mother, fondly called ‘Gar’ by family and friends, died over two decades ago. I adored her, was frightened of her (she was a true matriarch), and I was with her when she died at the age of 86. Her last words to me were, Will you look after Anthony? And, buzzing with all of the feelings that come with first love, I said yes.
I was a teenager, just 18, and Anthony was 41. My adoration of him was embarrassingly obvious to both Gar and Anthony. Gar encouraged it in a rather mischievous way but Anthony spurned my clumsy adolescent love-sick self, out of respect for my youth. It would be many years before he and I graduated from platonic to romantic.
Finally, at the age of 56, this workaholic, dairy farmer, best friend, bachelor, proposed. By then, I had steeled myself to imagine life without Anthony, but I had this absolute certainty about our son-to-be. And I was right. But I didn’t know that then.
Anthony’s proposal of marriage was almost too late as I was beginning a tentative relationship with another man – a kinder, younger, more generous man. I was in my early 30s by then and thought it best to finally move on and away from Anthony.
Then, whammo, Anthony just came to his senses. It was so sudden and such a shock to hear him crying on the phone and declaring love. I had never known him to express such emotion so I was flabbergasted and cynical. But I got over that and said yes to the marriage proposal.
Gar had always encouraged it, after all!
Anthony: Where is Mum?
Me: She’s in the kitchen, making breakfast, Ants.
jmgoyder 