The engagement and adjusting to realities of leaving

On the engagement



But the highlight of the summer was 26 June 2010. I had been experiencing homesickness – wanting to be close to my mother whilst her mother was very ill. Under that pretext Bernard had arranged a day for me to catch up with friends. I thought nothing of it – other than he was being a splendid boyfriend and hand-on-heart I can say that I had no idea what was coming. All I knew was that I was to be at Cutty Sark DLR in Greenwich for 10.30am. The day was utterly heavenly. At each stage I met a dear friend(s) who spoilt me rotten then gave me a clue as to where I was headed next. My final destination was to be at the place where Bernard and I first met. I thought it would be pretty silly if I was meeting someone else – so surely I was meeting Bernard this time.


And there he was – hurrah! At this stage I’d had a few glasses of bubbly and a few martinis so wasn’t interested in drinking anything but water. So we sat down at the table where we had our first date. This is nice, I thought to myself. Bernard handed me a puzzle box (I already knew how to open it because he’d infuriated me the previous Christmas trying to open it) and said inside it is a symbol. I started shaking, my heart racing. I fumbled for a good minute trying to open the box. It opened, and out came a ring – not THE ring, but one of his rings. I looked at the ring. I looked at Bernard. I picked up the ring and turned to Bernard at which point he said “will you?” Suddenly Bernard found himself with a weeping Lizzie clinging onto him for dear life saying repeatedly “yes of course I will, yes yes”. After he recomposed himself (it was a little dusty in the room) he said he didn’t presume to know my taste in rings (right response) and thought that since we are going travelling that it would be best to look at rings later. I agreed wholeheartedly.


Moments later, leaving Bernard’s pint half drunk, we returned to the flat to drink some celebratory bubbly. I was laughing and crying the whole walk home. “Oh you’ve put on a spread” I exclaimed when we walked into our flat. “Hmm, that’s Julie’s handbag? Is Julie here?” Moments later I realised that we were having a party with those who took part in the day, and the tears stopped and I started partying with gusto. My apologies if you received a drunken phone call from me that night (day in Australia), but I was far too happy to contain my enthusiasm.


On adjusting to the realities of leaving


The engagement gave me a greater sense of purpose in our return to Australia. We are getting married, and at some stage buy a house (fingers and toes Pound Stirling strengthens) and start a family (God willing). Sure, the idea of finding a place to live, a job and plan a wedding within nine months of returning did initially overwhelm me. But then I figure I will be far too busy upon my return to be wistful about the UK. This has got to be a good thing. And I’ve done my research and I’ve even compiled a loose budget (my goodness weddings are expensive). We know we want a relaxed style wedding on the Victorian surf coast, and I am content that we know where to start when we get home. I can let go of any wedding anxiety and enjoy travelling.


The recent passing of my grandmother (Judy Kelly) has also had an impact on my desire to return. Many times she had been close to death during the past eighteen months – she was such a fighter that one never knew when her body would eventually force her to let go. As such it was never clear if I should fly home. There was little I could do from such a distance to support my family. I had slept poorly for nearly a week – expecting a phone call at any moment. I got that call on the Monday evening (Tues morning back home). Unable to turn off the light, unwilling to shut my eyes, I fell asleep some time near 3am in front of the TV – very unusual for me.


The next day I started writing – nothing sooths me as well as a pen and paper. In the midst of my tears and reminiscence a Eulogy emerged. I shared it with mum who in turn shared it with Grandpa. The relief I felt and peace I found when told that my uncle Paul wanted to read out my Eulogy at her funeral, was immense. On the day I would be there, in some way.


I now feel ready to go home. My heart is ready. I want to spend some real time in Australia, reconnecting with my family, getting to know Bernard’s family and friends better and mine getting to know him. Yes, there is uncertainty about career opportunities, and yes our lifestyles will be completely different to what I have known these past years. But we are safe in the knowledge that if, after twelve months living back in Australia, our hearts are ready to be back in the UK, then that’s exactly what we can do. Though it is going to be exceptionally difficult saying goodbye to our English friends we’ve known all these years. I get weepy at the thought and its still just over two months til we leave.