I met Keith at the first dance I ever went to at Pioneer Hall in Wollongong, when I was 14.
A blond-haired boy in jeans and a bright white penguin T-shirt sauntered over to me and asked me to dance. We danced together for the rest of the night,then he walked me into town and bought me a milkshake.
That was 58 years ago.
He was 16 and living with his father and three sisters, working in a retail furniture business. I was a nerd at school, expected to go on to teachers’ college, though I dearly wanted to be a nurse.
We spent most weekends together going to the beach, watching the footy and hanging out with friends. He was always laughing and making me laugh.
One day Keith took me to the crematorium to “meet his mum”. We sat on the grass beside her little plaque and he told me stories about his mother. He had his head on my lap and I started to cry, hearing how much he was missing her. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair and we both laughed at the tears. I had never met anyone in my life who had shared something so personal and loving with me.
That was the moment I fell in love, even though I was only 15.
When I was 16, I found out I was pregnant. I was sent away to an unmarried mother’s home and I gave up my son for adoption. There were no choices in those days; I didn’t get to talk to Keith about what we wanted. My father thought adoption was the best plan so I could finish my schooling and get on with my life. It was all clothed in secrecy.
Years later, we found our son and I felt rewarded. Rob came into our lives when he was 25. He wanted to meet his mother, and he met two sisters and a father as well. We all noticed likenesses between Rob, Keith and the girls. It was an exciting time, charged with emotion and joy. It was such a rollercoaster for me and Keith. It brought up lots of unresolved grief from that lonely time in the home.
Our wedding was a tiny and mostly sad affair when I was 18. My father had remarried just weeks before and my mother was upset and tearful. Keith and I couldn’t wait to get away to start a happier life together.
Our first anniversary fell in August, just after my mother and father had died in previous months. We were living in a little flat and I was in my second year of nurse training. We had very little money, and couldn’t afford to go out to celebrate. Keith walked to the local shops and came back with a bottle of lemonade and two party whistles. We stood in our little kitchen, blowing our whistles and toasting each other with lemonade in plastic tumblers. Just us two; all we needed.
Our 25th wedding anniversary fell on a leap year. I sent Keith some flowers and a card asking him to marry me again. He asked me if we would have a honeymoon, and said he was in! This time around, we were surrounded by our family and dear friends. It was a wonderful time of reflection and celebration.
It hasn’t been all roses – there is a lot of work and compromise that goes into a long marriage. But we have built a loving family. Our two adult girls are an amazing support, especially since Keith’s cancer battle. And Keith and I have both had wonderful careers in nursing.
Now that Keith has cancer, our lives are smaller and quieter. I’m spending more time writing; Keith and our girls are so proud of me having a book published. Keith and I still laugh most days (and cry others), even if it’s watching Michael McIntyre on YouTube just before we go to bed. He is my first and only love, and I am proud of the caring and giving man he has become.
