The Story So Far

In 2006, not long after the end of my marriage, I moved to Muswellbrook from Sydney. There are 235 kilometers, a three and a half hour drive and a whole other world separating these locations. Sydney is a thriving metropolis with over 3,000,000 people. It has a rich history, thriving culture, many fine restaurants and is full of interesting and stimulating people.
Muswellbrook has 16,000 people, supports two power stations and has many many coal mines. Suffice it to say I noticed the difference. 

Now my head was not in a good place when I arrived. In the previous two years my father had died, I had quit a well paying job and  my marriage had failed. The world had become a strange and barren place. None of this was my fault of course. I mean I know I couldn't have saved my father, he was 95 years old when he died, and everyone knew (including him) that his time had come. I could however have worked at that job some more and I most certainly could have been a better husband. But in 2006 I was yet to understand any of this because it was of course somebody else's fault.

Dad in World War 2

Dad on his 90th Birthday in 1999

Up until early in the 21st century my life had been pretty good, I'd had a great time at Uni, I dated some smart and beautiful women, I had some interesting and well paid jobs. I'd done a little travelling, owned my own home and pretty well lived the good life. I then married the woman I loved and we'd lived a life where no reasonable want went unmet. 

Tragedy then struck in a way that no one saw coming, even though with hindsight we should have. One fine March day in 2003 I got a call from my wife which rocked both our worlds. Her father had taken the day off work, bought a length of rope from the local hardware store, then hung himself from the steps leading up to the organ loft at his local Catholic Church. Now whoever said hindsight is 20/20 got that right. I just wish someone had given me some 20/20 foresight so I could deal with that day. Our whole world changed there and then and almost none of it was for the better.

I don't know how, but I knew by the time I had completed that tragic phone call that our marriage was over. It just took another 3 years for it all to play out. 

In situations like those, there is no right thing to do, the emotions are raw and I doubt even the best professional help could have saved us. Who do you blame? Where do you turn to? What do you do to fill that void? I didn't have the answers then and nine years later I'm still no wiser. Suffice it to say that 3 years of constant alcohol abuse, bitter recriminations and sheer unadulterated pain saw our marriage end. 

I have no doubt that my wife suffered horrendously (and probably still does) as she tried to deal with her loss. I tried to help in any way I could but there was nothing I, or anybody else, could do. On a superficial level it seemed like we were getting on with our lives but underneath the surface the torment was debilitating and in all honesty our marriage petered out due to ambivalence, apathy and anger on both our parts.

So I ended up in Muswellbrook bunking at my mother's house while some real estate things got settled. I had intended to be there for 6 weeks. Needless to say I stayed a little longer.