Built from Laughter, Held by Tears

Please note: this piece contains content that some readers may find upsetting.

Noni and I became very close very quickly. We walked and talked every Friday morning, not to mention the coffee meet-ups with the other Mums from school. And they occurred almost daily. OLPS was a small school in a tiny village in Sydney. There was always someone at ‘The Bench’ after the school drop off for a quick coffee and chat before getting on with the day, except on a Friday.

Fridays were special. Just before the school bell rang at the end of the day, Mums would gather at the worn, wooden bench set located in the small park at the end of the shopping precinct. Inside their wicker baskets and cool bags were bottles of cold, crisp wine, fresh dips, aged cheese, and crackers. There would be lamingtons and fruit for the children to share for afternoon tea, who happily made their own way across the quiet road, bringing the younger children with them. Legionnaire hats and jumpers would then be left in a burgundy pile as they run free, letting off steam from the long week at school, while the Mum’s voices and laughter grew louder and louder.

When the chorus of cicadas began, most people would leave to go home for dinner, but the die-hards would have their husbands join them after work, and soon the local pizza shop was fired up. Picnic blankets and nylon camping chairs would appear from nowhere, and everyone would settle in until darkness fell.

My three children were in the same school year as three of Noni’s, and since neither of us was working at the time, there were lots of play dates and birthday parties to attend. But it was the Friday morning walks when we were alone amongst the scribbly gums that I was able to share the big stuff with her. My husband Joe had been diagnosed with cancer, and Noni listened as I worried and prayed that every chemo treatment would bring him a cure.

Sadly, it didn’t, and when he’d had enough, he gave me a choice: where did I want to live, Scotland or Australia?

‘You need to choose Suzanne, as I’m not going to be here.’

Words that made me realise he was serious, and that the cancer had finally won. I immediately chose Scotland. I wanted to go home. We were never meant to be away for so long, it was only meant to be a three-year contract with Joe’s work, which turned out to be eight years in Sydney.

It was tough leaving Australia, saying goodbye to friends, especially Noni, who had no words. How do you say goodbye to your friend who you know is going to be a widow soon, and you won’t be there to support? But I wanted to be close to my family. I thought it was the right thing to do for the children and me.

We talked on the phone every week, and Noni’s husband, Neville, who was a Consultant Gastroenterologist, would explain to me what procedures Joe was having and advise me about questions to ask. They were both a huge help and comfort to me from ten thousand miles away. I was incredibly grateful to them both and missed them dearly.

When Joe passed away, Noni was on the first flight to Scotland. I would never have asked her to come, but she said she knew from the telephone conversations we’d recently had that things were not right. She saw me, she understood what my voice was trying to hide. The support I thought we would have from our family didn’t happen. I guess we had been away too long. They scattered like the ashes we later fed to the ocean, fleck by fleck, they disappeared.

When Noni left Scotland after Joe’s funeral, I knew I had a friend for life. This beautiful woman left her husband and children to be with me and my children through the absolute worst time of our lives. And so, when eighteen months later she called to tell me the tragic news that Neville, her beloved husband, had died, there was no hesitation as to what I needed to do. I booked a flight to Sydney to be her support.

As the saying goes, ‘You can’t choose your family, but you can always choose your friends.’ Or words along those lines… Your family may not be there for you, but good friends always will be.

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