From the Ruins
Chapter One - sneak peek!
Chapter One - sneak peek!
“I’m far too young for a retirement village.” Sandra Tolbrook toyed with the silver chain around her neck, her fingers brushing over the cross she’d worn for the past forty-five years, as she glanced around the new villa with its cream walls, plush pile carpet and basic light shades. Although the chain had been replaced several times over the years, the cross, with a simple blue stone in the centre, was a treasured gift from her late Nan; it was a gift she’d received when she’d invited Jesus into her heart as a teenager at a youth rally on the Gold Coast many moons ago.
“It’s an over-50’s place, Mum. Resort-style living, according to the brochure. Besides, it’s got everything you need here.” Abigail, her eldest daughter who was always organising the family in one way or another, waved a hand around the cosy living room, clasping the glossy pages of the resort’s brochure between her perfectly manicured fingers. “Tennis court. Recreation centre. Swimming pool. All located on the beautiful river. Oh, and even a cinema. That sounds like fun. You won’t need to drive too much. Everything you need is here.”
Sandra eyed her new home apprehensively. It had sounded perfect when she’d signed on the dotted line to purchase the three-bedroom villa in Summerset Retirement Resort, the brand new facility located near Sandwater Bay, two hours north of Brisbane. But the word facility conjured up images of an old and decrepit place, designed for the insane and smelling like mothballs and breath mints. She wasn’t quite at that stage in life yet. Sixty was supposed to be the new forty, wasn’t it? Well, according to some trashy women’s magazine she’d flicked through the previous week at the hairdressers, it was. She certainly didn’t feel sixty-three years old, although some mornings her arthritic knees begged to differ. And she certainly didn’t look a day over fifty-five, according to the nice young girl at the newsagency. She’d been genetically blessed with very few wrinkles and a metabolism that worked in her favour. Most of the time she felt quite sprightly, so perhaps there was some truth in the magazine article after all.
“Where would you like this, Ma’am?”
Sandra turned as two men manoeuvred a timber hutch through the front door. East Side Removalists was printed in black across the back of their grass-green sweat-stained t-shirts. Tapping a finger on her chin, she turned around the small room, wondering how on earth everything was supposed to fit.
“Oh, against that wall will do for now, please.” She would employ her son, Brad to help later if she needed it moved. The two men shuffled into the living room and with a few grunts lowered the hutch next to a bookshelf before squeezing their way past the couches and returning outside.
Eyeing the ever-increasing mountain of boxes, Sandra rubbed her forehead. How had she accumulated so much stuff over the years? And how had she thought it possible to move from a two-story, five-bedroom house on one acre of land to a three-bedroom box with only a strip of grass separating her back door and the neighbour’s fence?
She hadn’t wanted to sell the house she’d shared with Greg in Sandwater Bay for the past twenty-two years. It had been their haven. Their sanctuary in the midst of a very busy life of pastoring, missionary work and leading small groups in their church. They’d lovingly renovated the brick home with its tiled roof and raised their three children there. They’d hosted traveling missionaries on furlough. Welcomed the youth group for bonfire nights. Held big-screen movie nights in the yard for their children’s friends. And ran many home Bible study groups.
Greg had encouraged her homemaking skills, allowing her to decorate and take charge of the garden, while he wrote sermons, counselled those in need, and attended board meetings at church. They’d made a good pair. A good team, more specifically. She was the ever-dutiful wife, supporting her husband, happy to work in the background, while he continued to shepherd his flock. Greg. The very thought of her soul mate caused a lump to form in her throat. It had been two years, five months and six days since she’d farewelled her beloved husband and best friend from this earth. And not a day went by that she didn’t miss him.
End stage renal failure. That’s what had stolen his last breath. After a lifetime of knee injuries, a shoulder replacement and bowel surgery, the silly man had let his blood pressure go unchecked for years. As a result, his kidneys had suffered irreversible damage and eventually shut down. He endured months of dialysis - thrice weekly visits to the clinic in Brisbane. Sandra would read, or cross-stitch or nip to the shops while Greg was connected to the machine filtering his blood, before making the trek home with her weak and weary husband in the passenger seat. Eventually, the dialysis could no longer offer him the life-saving filtration of toxins he needed. Sandra had cared for Greg to the very end when his days were filled with a regime of medications, mouth and hygiene cares, and repositioning every few hours so he wouldn’t get any pressure sores.
After Greg passed into eternity, the tsunami of grief slowly waned making room for loneliness to creep in. An unwanted intruder, it slid into every chasm of Sandra’s life, paralysing her with fear and helplessness as to what she was supposed to do with the rest of her life. Greg had always been there as the decision maker, the dreamer, the go-getter. And without him, she felt incredibly lost.
The house she loved suddenly felt cold and empty without Greg’s booming voice and rumbling laughter filling the rooms. And although she was still in good health, the property was a lot of work for her to maintain on her own. Yet, she’d been so reluctant to move. The house held so many wonderful memories, and she was terrified of losing them all. It was hard enough saying goodbye to Greg. How could she possibly say goodbye to the physical reminders of their life together?
The wooden bannister leading to the second floor that he’d lovingly carved and polished from reclaimed timber. The back door that needed a little extra muscle to open because the humidity caused it to swell and get stuck. Greg always promised to fix it, but never did. The patched wall in the family room – the result of a skateboard incident from when Brad was younger. The rose bush in the back garden, a gift from Greg when her mother passed away. Reminders of their life were everywhere. But after slipping in the laundry room and twisting her ankle, she hadn’t been able to safely navigate the stairs on crutches. That was when her children suggested she move into the over-50’s retirement village.
“Mum?” Abigail stood in front of her, snapping her fingers.
“Sorry, darling. What were you saying?”
“You might need to have a yard sale. You’ve got way too much stuff to try and fit in here.”
In a daze, Sandra eyed the room once more. It would probably fit three times over in the living room of the house she’d just sold. She’d already donated some of her furniture to charity before moving into the villa, but by the looks of things, she’d need to get rid of more.
“Maybe.” The thought of selling anything filled her with dread. It seemed far too much hassle to organise something that would yield so little profit in return. Besides, she didn’t want strangers traipsing across her small plot of grass, and she certainly didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with her new neighbours. Too many people. Too many cars. Too noisy. The cons outweighed the pros. She wanted to slip into a peaceful existence, not create a disturbance for everyone to notice her.
“I’ve organised for Sophie and Brad to do some shopping and bring some meals over so you can unpack and settle in without getting too stressed about everything. They’ll pop in some time this week.”
Her younger children had sent their apologies – Brad was interstate on business, and Sophie was working the night shift. They’d helped pack up the old house and the four of them had spent many nights laughing, sharing memories and wiping away tears as they found treasured possessions and keepsakes they’d forgotten about. Sandra knew Brad and Sophie would’ve helped on moving day if they could, and she was extremely grateful for Abigail’s help with organising everything when she could barely think straight.
Always the one to notice the finer details, it was no surprise that Abigail had quickly landed a role as an executive assistant to the CEO of a multi-national mining corporation after graduating from university with a Master’s degree in Business. All of her children were successful in their own right. But Sandra often wondered if they placed too much emphasis on the wrong things. None of them were in relationships, and she hoped she would still be young enough to enjoy her grandchildren – if and when – God chose to bless her with any.
“Thanks, darling. That’s lovely of you to organise some meals.” Sandra absentmindedly twisted the gold wedding band around her left ring finger, thinking about all the things that needed doing, all the companies to notify with her new address, the neighbours she would have to meet …
“Just think of the new friends you’ll make. They’ve got lawn bowls, activity nights, craft groups …”
Sandra had tuned out when Sophie and Abigail first suggested the luxury villas at Summerset Resort. She didn’t want to make new friends, let alone do all the other activities they spouted about. She wasn’t old enough to spend her days card making or chasing after a jack on a freshly tended bowling green.
But after thirty-five years of marriage and working alongside Greg for the best part of those years, she suddenly found herself alone and … lost. Gone was the motivation for getting up each day. Gone was her purpose. She was directionless. Lonely. Empty. Without Greg, she had no idea what she was supposed to do or who she was supposed to be. And so here she was, succumbing to her children’s wishes hoping to make a new start.
With a sigh, she heaved a box onto the laminate benchtop in the kitchen and ran a knife through the strip of packing tape. She pushed back the edges of the box and pulled out a roll of cutlery wrapped up in dishtowels. Yet another thing she would have to reduce in size. What was the point of owning so much silverware when she only had to cater for herself each meal? Sure, she could invite people over, but there wasn’t enough room in the small eatery off the kitchen to warrant large dinner parties. She missed the impromptu gatherings they used to have when Greg was alive. The youth group dropping over Sunday nights after church. Or hosting the church board meetings around their kitchen table. Greg was the extrovert in their marriage and would think nothing of inviting a new family from church over for lunch, while she was happy enough to whip up an easy meal without a second thought. She enjoyed offering hospitality, the sense of community, of having an open house. But it had always been with her main man leading the way, initiating friendships and conversation.
Knives and forks slipped out of her fingers, clattering into the drawer. Could she invite strangers into her home again? Alone? Her stomach churned at the thought.
The removalists unpacked the last of the boxes with Sandra’s worldly belongings, and after accepting a can of lemonade as a parting thank you, they went on their way leaving the musty stench of sweat and body odour lingering in the air.
“I’ll order us some takeaway to save you trying to find anything for dinner, Mum.” Abigail slid the front windows open to air out the living room. Sandra nodded her thanks, eyeing the unopened boxes stacked against the wall. A narrow path cut from the front door to the kitchen where more boxes littered the bench. She sighed with the enormity of the task ahead of her.
Abigail’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. “It’ll be alright, Mum. Change takes time. You always told us that, remember? When I struggled to settle into my new job, that was the first thing you said to me. Give it a few weeks. Once you’re unpacked, I’m sure you’ll love it here.”
“I guess.” Would she, though? Would she really love it? This wasn’t what she planned for her life. She was supposed to be enjoying her twilight years with her husband by her side. Travelling. Stepping aside from the responsibilities of a lifetime of ministry. Enjoying grandchildren – not like that had come to fruition, though. And travelling, well, she had no desire to do that on her own.
“I won’t be long. Is Chinese okay? I saw a restaurant a couple of blocks over when I drove in. Might as well give it a try. It might turn out to be your new favourite.” Abigail grabbed her purse off the recliner and headed to the door.
“That’s fine, love. Thank you.” Sandra offered an exhausted smile, thankful Abigail suggested picking up some dinner, because she would have only ingested a piece of toast and cup of tea if she’d been alone. That’s if she could even find the toaster or kettle amid the mess.
Abigail soon returned, and after they enjoyed a meal of honey chicken, beef with black beans and fried rice, Sandra gathered the plates and carried them the few steps to the kitchen.
Abigail stretched her slender arms and yawned. “As much as I’d love to stay, Mum, I should probably go. I’ve got to prepare some reports for a meeting on Monday morning.”
“You’re always working so hard,” Sandra commented as they walked to the front door. “Make sure you’re looking after yourself, okay?”
“I am! Don’t worry about me. Enjoy your first night in your new home.” Abigail kissed her cheek before walking across the lawn to her zippy two-door sports car. She slid behind the steering wheel and waved goodbye.
Sandra double-checked the door was locked before clearing a path through the living room and flopping into the recliner near the front window. With a weary sigh, she pulled the lever on the side and nestled against the cushions, closing her eyes. What a day!
Unfamiliar sounds of the new home enveloped her. The quiet drone of distant traffic. Music – Neil Diamond, if she wasn’t mistaken – drifted from somewhere nearby. An owl or night bird called into the night. Even the hum of the refrigerator was a little louder than she was used to.
She hoped it wouldn’t take too long to adapt. The last few years since Greg’s passing seemed to be a constant adaptation to one thing or another. Any change was always difficult, and she expected to feel out of sorts in her new environment for a while. Besides, she’d prayed about moving, hadn’t she? She knew she couldn’t maintain her large property on her own, so the obvious answer was to downsize.
A young family had purchased her home, and she hoped they would be able to create some wonderful, lasting memories there like she had. The villa had been well within her price range, so wasn’t that an ample sign that she was supposed to move? She had been so reluctant to uproot from all she’d known, but here she was. She needed to focus on the positives and not dwell on all she’d left behind.
Positives like not having to spend half her day cleaning. There was no yard here, so she wouldn’t have to worry about yard maintenance, or gardening, or using the ride-on mower to cut the grass. Her three children lived reasonably close, so she would still see them – when they weren’t so busy with their careers and social lives. And thankfully, she was still close to her church, because she didn’t think she could bear to find another church family at her age. Starting everything from scratch would be stretching the comfort zone a little too far.
Yes, it would all take time to settle in. She only hoped she had the strength to do so.
“It’s an over-50’s place, Mum. Resort-style living, according to the brochure. Besides, it’s got everything you need here.” Abigail, her eldest daughter who was always organising the family in one way or another, waved a hand around the cosy living room, clasping the glossy pages of the resort’s brochure between her perfectly manicured fingers. “Tennis court. Recreation centre. Swimming pool. All located on the beautiful river. Oh, and even a cinema. That sounds like fun. You won’t need to drive too much. Everything you need is here.”
Sandra eyed her new home apprehensively. It had sounded perfect when she’d signed on the dotted line to purchase the three-bedroom villa in Summerset Retirement Resort, the brand new facility located near Sandwater Bay, two hours north of Brisbane. But the word facility conjured up images of an old and decrepit place, designed for the insane and smelling like mothballs and breath mints. She wasn’t quite at that stage in life yet. Sixty was supposed to be the new forty, wasn’t it? Well, according to some trashy women’s magazine she’d flicked through the previous week at the hairdressers, it was. She certainly didn’t feel sixty-three years old, although some mornings her arthritic knees begged to differ. And she certainly didn’t look a day over fifty-five, according to the nice young girl at the newsagency. She’d been genetically blessed with very few wrinkles and a metabolism that worked in her favour. Most of the time she felt quite sprightly, so perhaps there was some truth in the magazine article after all.
“Where would you like this, Ma’am?”
Sandra turned as two men manoeuvred a timber hutch through the front door. East Side Removalists was printed in black across the back of their grass-green sweat-stained t-shirts. Tapping a finger on her chin, she turned around the small room, wondering how on earth everything was supposed to fit.
“Oh, against that wall will do for now, please.” She would employ her son, Brad to help later if she needed it moved. The two men shuffled into the living room and with a few grunts lowered the hutch next to a bookshelf before squeezing their way past the couches and returning outside.
Eyeing the ever-increasing mountain of boxes, Sandra rubbed her forehead. How had she accumulated so much stuff over the years? And how had she thought it possible to move from a two-story, five-bedroom house on one acre of land to a three-bedroom box with only a strip of grass separating her back door and the neighbour’s fence?
She hadn’t wanted to sell the house she’d shared with Greg in Sandwater Bay for the past twenty-two years. It had been their haven. Their sanctuary in the midst of a very busy life of pastoring, missionary work and leading small groups in their church. They’d lovingly renovated the brick home with its tiled roof and raised their three children there. They’d hosted traveling missionaries on furlough. Welcomed the youth group for bonfire nights. Held big-screen movie nights in the yard for their children’s friends. And ran many home Bible study groups.
Greg had encouraged her homemaking skills, allowing her to decorate and take charge of the garden, while he wrote sermons, counselled those in need, and attended board meetings at church. They’d made a good pair. A good team, more specifically. She was the ever-dutiful wife, supporting her husband, happy to work in the background, while he continued to shepherd his flock. Greg. The very thought of her soul mate caused a lump to form in her throat. It had been two years, five months and six days since she’d farewelled her beloved husband and best friend from this earth. And not a day went by that she didn’t miss him.
End stage renal failure. That’s what had stolen his last breath. After a lifetime of knee injuries, a shoulder replacement and bowel surgery, the silly man had let his blood pressure go unchecked for years. As a result, his kidneys had suffered irreversible damage and eventually shut down. He endured months of dialysis - thrice weekly visits to the clinic in Brisbane. Sandra would read, or cross-stitch or nip to the shops while Greg was connected to the machine filtering his blood, before making the trek home with her weak and weary husband in the passenger seat. Eventually, the dialysis could no longer offer him the life-saving filtration of toxins he needed. Sandra had cared for Greg to the very end when his days were filled with a regime of medications, mouth and hygiene cares, and repositioning every few hours so he wouldn’t get any pressure sores.
After Greg passed into eternity, the tsunami of grief slowly waned making room for loneliness to creep in. An unwanted intruder, it slid into every chasm of Sandra’s life, paralysing her with fear and helplessness as to what she was supposed to do with the rest of her life. Greg had always been there as the decision maker, the dreamer, the go-getter. And without him, she felt incredibly lost.
The house she loved suddenly felt cold and empty without Greg’s booming voice and rumbling laughter filling the rooms. And although she was still in good health, the property was a lot of work for her to maintain on her own. Yet, she’d been so reluctant to move. The house held so many wonderful memories, and she was terrified of losing them all. It was hard enough saying goodbye to Greg. How could she possibly say goodbye to the physical reminders of their life together?
The wooden bannister leading to the second floor that he’d lovingly carved and polished from reclaimed timber. The back door that needed a little extra muscle to open because the humidity caused it to swell and get stuck. Greg always promised to fix it, but never did. The patched wall in the family room – the result of a skateboard incident from when Brad was younger. The rose bush in the back garden, a gift from Greg when her mother passed away. Reminders of their life were everywhere. But after slipping in the laundry room and twisting her ankle, she hadn’t been able to safely navigate the stairs on crutches. That was when her children suggested she move into the over-50’s retirement village.
“Mum?” Abigail stood in front of her, snapping her fingers.
“Sorry, darling. What were you saying?”
“You might need to have a yard sale. You’ve got way too much stuff to try and fit in here.”
In a daze, Sandra eyed the room once more. It would probably fit three times over in the living room of the house she’d just sold. She’d already donated some of her furniture to charity before moving into the villa, but by the looks of things, she’d need to get rid of more.
“Maybe.” The thought of selling anything filled her with dread. It seemed far too much hassle to organise something that would yield so little profit in return. Besides, she didn’t want strangers traipsing across her small plot of grass, and she certainly didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with her new neighbours. Too many people. Too many cars. Too noisy. The cons outweighed the pros. She wanted to slip into a peaceful existence, not create a disturbance for everyone to notice her.
“I’ve organised for Sophie and Brad to do some shopping and bring some meals over so you can unpack and settle in without getting too stressed about everything. They’ll pop in some time this week.”
Her younger children had sent their apologies – Brad was interstate on business, and Sophie was working the night shift. They’d helped pack up the old house and the four of them had spent many nights laughing, sharing memories and wiping away tears as they found treasured possessions and keepsakes they’d forgotten about. Sandra knew Brad and Sophie would’ve helped on moving day if they could, and she was extremely grateful for Abigail’s help with organising everything when she could barely think straight.
Always the one to notice the finer details, it was no surprise that Abigail had quickly landed a role as an executive assistant to the CEO of a multi-national mining corporation after graduating from university with a Master’s degree in Business. All of her children were successful in their own right. But Sandra often wondered if they placed too much emphasis on the wrong things. None of them were in relationships, and she hoped she would still be young enough to enjoy her grandchildren – if and when – God chose to bless her with any.
“Thanks, darling. That’s lovely of you to organise some meals.” Sandra absentmindedly twisted the gold wedding band around her left ring finger, thinking about all the things that needed doing, all the companies to notify with her new address, the neighbours she would have to meet …
“Just think of the new friends you’ll make. They’ve got lawn bowls, activity nights, craft groups …”
Sandra had tuned out when Sophie and Abigail first suggested the luxury villas at Summerset Resort. She didn’t want to make new friends, let alone do all the other activities they spouted about. She wasn’t old enough to spend her days card making or chasing after a jack on a freshly tended bowling green.
But after thirty-five years of marriage and working alongside Greg for the best part of those years, she suddenly found herself alone and … lost. Gone was the motivation for getting up each day. Gone was her purpose. She was directionless. Lonely. Empty. Without Greg, she had no idea what she was supposed to do or who she was supposed to be. And so here she was, succumbing to her children’s wishes hoping to make a new start.
With a sigh, she heaved a box onto the laminate benchtop in the kitchen and ran a knife through the strip of packing tape. She pushed back the edges of the box and pulled out a roll of cutlery wrapped up in dishtowels. Yet another thing she would have to reduce in size. What was the point of owning so much silverware when she only had to cater for herself each meal? Sure, she could invite people over, but there wasn’t enough room in the small eatery off the kitchen to warrant large dinner parties. She missed the impromptu gatherings they used to have when Greg was alive. The youth group dropping over Sunday nights after church. Or hosting the church board meetings around their kitchen table. Greg was the extrovert in their marriage and would think nothing of inviting a new family from church over for lunch, while she was happy enough to whip up an easy meal without a second thought. She enjoyed offering hospitality, the sense of community, of having an open house. But it had always been with her main man leading the way, initiating friendships and conversation.
Knives and forks slipped out of her fingers, clattering into the drawer. Could she invite strangers into her home again? Alone? Her stomach churned at the thought.
The removalists unpacked the last of the boxes with Sandra’s worldly belongings, and after accepting a can of lemonade as a parting thank you, they went on their way leaving the musty stench of sweat and body odour lingering in the air.
“I’ll order us some takeaway to save you trying to find anything for dinner, Mum.” Abigail slid the front windows open to air out the living room. Sandra nodded her thanks, eyeing the unopened boxes stacked against the wall. A narrow path cut from the front door to the kitchen where more boxes littered the bench. She sighed with the enormity of the task ahead of her.
Abigail’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. “It’ll be alright, Mum. Change takes time. You always told us that, remember? When I struggled to settle into my new job, that was the first thing you said to me. Give it a few weeks. Once you’re unpacked, I’m sure you’ll love it here.”
“I guess.” Would she, though? Would she really love it? This wasn’t what she planned for her life. She was supposed to be enjoying her twilight years with her husband by her side. Travelling. Stepping aside from the responsibilities of a lifetime of ministry. Enjoying grandchildren – not like that had come to fruition, though. And travelling, well, she had no desire to do that on her own.
“I won’t be long. Is Chinese okay? I saw a restaurant a couple of blocks over when I drove in. Might as well give it a try. It might turn out to be your new favourite.” Abigail grabbed her purse off the recliner and headed to the door.
“That’s fine, love. Thank you.” Sandra offered an exhausted smile, thankful Abigail suggested picking up some dinner, because she would have only ingested a piece of toast and cup of tea if she’d been alone. That’s if she could even find the toaster or kettle amid the mess.
Abigail soon returned, and after they enjoyed a meal of honey chicken, beef with black beans and fried rice, Sandra gathered the plates and carried them the few steps to the kitchen.
Abigail stretched her slender arms and yawned. “As much as I’d love to stay, Mum, I should probably go. I’ve got to prepare some reports for a meeting on Monday morning.”
“You’re always working so hard,” Sandra commented as they walked to the front door. “Make sure you’re looking after yourself, okay?”
“I am! Don’t worry about me. Enjoy your first night in your new home.” Abigail kissed her cheek before walking across the lawn to her zippy two-door sports car. She slid behind the steering wheel and waved goodbye.
Sandra double-checked the door was locked before clearing a path through the living room and flopping into the recliner near the front window. With a weary sigh, she pulled the lever on the side and nestled against the cushions, closing her eyes. What a day!
Unfamiliar sounds of the new home enveloped her. The quiet drone of distant traffic. Music – Neil Diamond, if she wasn’t mistaken – drifted from somewhere nearby. An owl or night bird called into the night. Even the hum of the refrigerator was a little louder than she was used to.
She hoped it wouldn’t take too long to adapt. The last few years since Greg’s passing seemed to be a constant adaptation to one thing or another. Any change was always difficult, and she expected to feel out of sorts in her new environment for a while. Besides, she’d prayed about moving, hadn’t she? She knew she couldn’t maintain her large property on her own, so the obvious answer was to downsize.
A young family had purchased her home, and she hoped they would be able to create some wonderful, lasting memories there like she had. The villa had been well within her price range, so wasn’t that an ample sign that she was supposed to move? She had been so reluctant to uproot from all she’d known, but here she was. She needed to focus on the positives and not dwell on all she’d left behind.
Positives like not having to spend half her day cleaning. There was no yard here, so she wouldn’t have to worry about yard maintenance, or gardening, or using the ride-on mower to cut the grass. Her three children lived reasonably close, so she would still see them – when they weren’t so busy with their careers and social lives. And thankfully, she was still close to her church, because she didn’t think she could bear to find another church family at her age. Starting everything from scratch would be stretching the comfort zone a little too far.
Yes, it would all take time to settle in. She only hoped she had the strength to do so.
