The Quail Trail - Part 10

 Memories and raw emotions

In Hitchin I had the privilege to meet Stuart's wonderful family. His parents returned home from a holiday in Spain three days before my departure. From the moment I met them I knew from whom Stuart inherited his sense of fun and laughter! It was in their genes! Moments after I met his mother I could picture this smiling woman pouring out all her love and caring to a deaf little boy. She told me about the five miscarriages she had before he came along and how guilty she felt about having to spend so much time with him as compared to his two elder sisters. She also mentioned that from this guilt she also probably spoiled the girls too much to make up for the time that she spent with Stuart. To me it was obvious that this woman could never give enough love and it was through her caring and compassion that I had the privilege to meet and get to know three very fine young people and their wonderful parents who took me into their hearts and home as if I deserved similar love! 

The limited time spent with this fine family was packed with fun, hearty, home-cooked meals and much laughter! I did not want to leave because it felt as if I had to stay with them! I made them promise that they would all come to visit me in South Africa. We talked about politics and the crime situation and wild life and the South African scenery and shared jokes. So much so that Stuart's mother even started phoning travel agents at some stage before I said goodbye to them.

As the end of my journey drew closer it was as if fear started gripping my heart. At the time I did not yet realise what a huge emotional impact my last experiences on this journey would have before I returned home. Sub-consciously I was already preparing myself for a very, very sad goodbye but first there was more fun to be had and more beauty to behold… The immediate environment had much in store to be explored.

Knebworth House

On a lovely sunny, summer Sunday Stuart and I visited Knebworth House – a stately English country estate in nearby Hertfordshire. He took me along winding country roads passing green pastures and golden wheat fields, dodging pedestrians walking their dogs and gently giving way in the narrow lanes to people on horseback before we entered the access road that brought the house, which looked more like a castle, in view through a lane of huge oak trees. As we came closer, the impressive gates, turrets and gargoyles stirred up images of Victorian ladies sitting at their embroidery frames working on intricate tapestries waiting for the men to return from the hunt with the dogs.

Me near the herb garden

Upon our entry a lovely formal garden invited me to sit on a bench near a lily pond to smell the roses! We commenced our walk, guide map in hand looking for a pet cemetery, a herb garden, a maze and more. Our walk took us along colourful shrubs, over small bridges and past immaculately "manicured" trees eventually finding the somewhat neglected and disappointingly drab pet cemetery. I delighted in finding my way through the small maze and sat on a bench looking at the butterflies and again noticing how much bigger the English bees are in comparison to our South African ones. Then Stuart found another bench in the herb garden where we again had a sip from our cold drinks, watched the butterflies and could not resist crushing some herb leaves between our fingers to pick up the fragrance. All the time I was also clicking away with my digital camera again testing Stuart's patience with my urge to take pictures of everything. I think I could hear him utter a sigh of relief when I was not allowed to take pictures inside the house! LOL

The rose garden at Knebworth House 2001

Once inside he could hardly get me away from admiring the antique hand made tapestries and marvelling at the time it must have taken to complete them. The life size paintings of Victorian ladies dressed in crinoline in the picture gallery leading to the bedrooms on the first floor stood in stark contrast against the latest painting of the youngest generation of the family. It was a painting of four teenagers leaning against the stair rails dressed in denim jeans almost as if they mocked their ancestors with their "cool" attire! What a delightful difference! I also could not help smiling at Stuart's exclamation: " Heck these people REALLY loved themselves!"

The Parish Church - Stevenage in the background

Clock Tower Trinity College Cambridge

Cambridge provided another trip down memory lane for me. I was surprised to find how many of the ancient buildings I remembered from a trip many years ago – the narrow cobbled streets, the interesting facades with rows and rows of chimneys and the impressive college buildings. One nowadays has to pay an admission fee to enter the Colleges and we just did not see fit to do that but naughtily slipped in through a back door into the quadrangle of Trinity College to render me yet another opportunity to take some pictures of course! We also had a snack and a drink in a typical English tearoom and could not resist buying some delightfully unhealthy cakes to take home!

Cambridge street scene

 Then we decided that it was going to be much easier to see the most of Cambridge in the shortest time by going punting on the river. We negotiated with an ex South African student to buy the tickets and I even got a chance to speak a little bit of Afrikaans again. We opted not to do attempt the punting ourselves when we saw how crowded the river was. I had a few anxious moments getting onto the shallow vessel when I realised that my balance was still not what it used to be before my implant and I had a fear of plunging into the water with my babblebox but with the assistance of Stuart and Maria managed to get in without too much trouble! Our punter, a young Swedish guy, expertly steered us along the river and under the many beautiful bridges to avoid the other less experienced punters. Some of them actually ended up falling into the river much to the delight of everyone observing their dilemma. Again time sped by with much laughter and fun and too soon it was time to return home as the twilight settled in filling our hearts and minds with beauty and joy.

Punting in Cambridge

Tudort Restaurant

The most memorable visit of my trip came up next. Stuart invited his boss, Pat – a lady about the same age as me – to accompany us to Althorp. None of us had been there before and I had a hunch that this trip would be an emotional one for me. Not so much because of the sad circumstances of Princess Diana's death but rather because I so vividly remembered how my late husband and I watched her funeral on TV at a time when he was also on the last stretch of his life's journey. The memories started flooding in when we left for Althorp on the first overcast day since my arrival in England. It was as if the weather matched the solemnity of what was in store for us at Althorp.

 We first visited the exhibition called "Diana – a celebration". I thought this was somewhat of a misnomer when I saw the many mostly older women and young girls tearfully exiting the exhibition hall. It was as if time fell away when we entered the dimly lit exhibition halls. Apart from the exhibits themselves every room featured a huge video screen depicting scenes from her childhood; her marriage; some of her elegant clothes; the funeral and eventually leading to a gallery with numerous books that were signed by people from all over the world at the time of her death.

So far so good. I still had my emotions intact until we entered the room where the exhibits from the funeral were displayed. As one enters an overwhelming scent of flowers literally enfolds you. The floor of this room is covered with a heap of potpourri almost a metre high! The sadness of it all is overbearing! People stood crying while watching scenes of the funeral on the huge video screen. We all cried!! However – I did not cry for Diana – I cried about my own lost love! I simply could not contain myself! It was as if Hennie was right there beside me.

This feeling of sadness prevailed as we did a quick tour through the house and walked off to the lake and the Diana Memorial. The path to the lake leads along giant trees and immaculate lawns – a beautiful park leading to the tranquil lake surrounded by the path interspersed with benches where people sat silently looking at the island lost in their own thoughts. Others followed the path around the lake and some left flowers at the Memorial silently crying. I was not sad anymore – only quiet. It felt wrong to talk. I sat for a long time looking at two swans (trying to take pictures of them that came out all blurred), lost in my own thoughts, before we eventually walked back. 

Pat and I at the restaurant
with Lord Spencer's cattle in
the background

Before going home we had a drink at the restaurant and managed to get ourselves in the right mood to take up Pat's kind offer to buy us dinner at a pub on our way home. Lord Spencer was autographing a book that he wrote and much to Stuart's dismay he refused to sign the cheaper book I bought even after I told him that I was from South Africa where he used to live some time ago. We then departed and found a quaint, typically English pub called "The Dusty Fox" nearby to end a particularly memorable and soul–searching day.

At the Dusty Fox pub

But for me it was not the end of the emotional roller-coaster yet. After we got back home in Hitchin the sad feelings of the day emerged again and got the better of me embarrassingly leaving me in tears. Then Stuart came to the rescue and we had a loooong talk. I poured out my heart to rid myself of a deep sense of loss and longing. I realised that I had come to another fork in the road and that my life would never be the same again. The healing was almost complete and I had to come to closure about Hennie's death. After much talking I suddenly realised that I understood the meaning of the word "forever" for the first time… Like Diana my Hennie was gone forever but my caring young friend helped me to make peace within myself and to close the book. Now it was time to go home.

My flight back to South Africa was scheduled for 05:30 in the morning. I hardly slept that night. That last evening I made some pancakes for dinner with maple syrup that I brought along from Canada. We were quiet and caught up in our own thoughts once again when we departed shortly after two o' clock the next morning to Heathrow airport. It was raining as if England was crying to see me go. We could not talk in the car because it was still dark and I silently sat watching Stuart singing along with the music (that I could not appreciate) coming from the CD player. Once again in my heart I marvelled at the wonder of sound that his CI brought back to him. It filled me with deep gratitude that I had the opportunity to get to know him better.

On the plane back to South Africa I wrote a long story in my diary wishing him many wonderful CI moments and opportunities to fulfill his dreams and remember the sunshine of the times that we shared. I knew that some day when I am old and reaching the end of my new journey I would still remember his playfulness and open, dimpled smile. A fine young man who filled the days with laughter and fun and who took me around a strange bend in the road. As the arid plains of the Sahara desert disappeared from the view obscured by some cotton wool clouds, it all felt like a dream that should never have ended. I longed to give them all one last tight hug but my arms were empty and my heart was aching with the desire to meet them all again some time in the near future…

The first e-mail message that I received from Stuart after I returned home jerked me back to long hot summer days in England with the lyrics from the Abba song "Our last Summer." The words of verse two ringing clear…

"We made our way along the river
And we sat down in the grass
By the Eiffel Tower
I was so happy we had met
It was the age of no regret
Oh yes! Those crazy years, that was the time
Of the flower power
But underneath we had a fear of flying
Of getting old, a fear of slowly dying
We took the chance
Like we were dancing our last dance"

In hindsight I know that my emotional experiences and moods in England was a culmination of deep feelings of gratitude for so much love and caring that was bestowed upon me not only by my dear friends in England but by so many people that I met in such a short time. More than ever I know that it is only amongst my Deaf/HOH/CI friends that I will find this very special brand of understanding, belonging, love and caring. My dearest friends, therefore I thank you all once more for being an integral part of my life. My new emotional road ahead is brightened every day by knowing that our friendships will last for a long, long time … forever…

...and since that time Stuart visited me three times in South Africa and we still keep in touch in spite of his busy globe-trotting lifestyle - now working for Advanced Bionics...