47. Fiji, My Bittersweet Farewell to You.

Sunday morning it was.  Time to get crackin’ for it’s sailing day.  Turn by turn we got up and took our showers; as usual they were cool and quick!  

Busy emotional day ahead.  I got dressed, made my bed and placed my suitcase upon it.    The kitchen had been buzzing since before my eyes opened and breakfast smelled especially good this morning.  

We all sat down to enjoy our meal and I wanted to savor everyone’s face who was sitting at this table with me.  After breakfast Noori arrived and just after that my aunts, cousins and uncles arrived from Toorak.  

All the bodies in the house were busy doing one thing or another, the children were running around as they do.  I had gone off to my room to pack and Noori was right there with me.  

There was a little wardrobe where most of my clothing hung.  She immediately began to remove and fold them;  she was packing my suitcase for me.

I’d glance at her as I buzzed around the room for things to put in the case.  She’d watch me and I knew it.  I closed in on her near the suitcase and saw the tears just rolling down her cheeks.  She stopped adjusting my garments in the case and reached out for my hands,  

Noori held my hands in hers and then she embraced me with the most affectionate hug she had; naturally I responded to this with a tighter hug and there we stood, embraced for what seemed like an eternity yet too short.

She cast a look around the room mainly towards the open bedroom door just to be sure no one was looking our way and then she said to me, “I love you Gary and I will miss you so much.  I also promise you this, I will continue to come here and take care of umi as often as I can possibly manage it.”

I pulled her to me, again in a hug and then I kissed her.  ‘I love you very much Noori.  Please know I have to leave for now but also I feel you do know me well enough to understand why I must do this.  I promise you I will come back soon and we can finally be married. Then we’ll be with one another forever!’

A lite lunch was laid out and we all ate together.  Then we did whatever last minute preparations were remaining before leaving for the wharf.  The family bus came (out of my brother-in-law’s garage) and it was time to pile in.  

Better than taking many different cars wouldn’t you say?  There was roughly thirty of us, adults and children, climbing on board.  I was the last one to get on as I wanted to gaze upon my family home one last time and bid it farewell.  

The bus driven by my brother-in-law drove away down Mal Street and towards the wharf where the P&O Liner Orsova awaited me.

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