Excerpts: Chapters One and Three

1
A HORRIBLE twist of fate and Aubrey’s life is over. How could I have prevented it, held onto him, protected him? I must not weep anymore, tears are counterproductive. I repeatedly tell myself, “As of tomorrow, no more crying.” But today is already ‘tomorrow’ and I can’t seem to contain the tears! I have to think, convince my heart to be brave and not go to that place inside my head where only confusion reigns. Focus on surviving without my soulmate.
My thoughts were interrupted by the voices of our grandchildren playing in the backyard. I walked to our bedroom window and watched them frolicking in the snow, climbing the playhouse and swinging on the rope, all with such unlimited energy and exuberance. Aubrey and I used to call out to them from this very window, they would then put on an acrobatic show for us, each trying to outdo the other. I now listen to their laughter, forever the sweetest sound, even when my heart seems to have gone astray. As I tap on the window, they look up and for a second I think they expected to see their Grandy standing next to me. Then the moment passed. Whatever the season, our grands always enjoy the backyard, along with the rabbits, squirrels, birds and the occasional deer darting between the trees.

My eyes divert to the landscape. Such tall pine trees, their snow-covered tips giving them a majestic look, like white crowns on green giants. A ravine flows between our backyard and a conservation park that has many tall birch trees. On windy mornings between spring and fall, one can hear the rustling of the branches, their leaves flirting with the clouds, and the soothing sound of the mourning doves call, Nature’s alarm to awaken you, feeling elated without a cause. That’s how I felt waking up beside Aubrey. When will I adjust to living without him? Speak of him in the past tense? And when will I find myself again, my whole self, one person instead of half of a couple? There must be a positive side to this lost lonely feeling. But when and how? Seeking God helps sometimes. I have to exercise more faith for my sanity and comfort.
As I watch my grandchildren’s antics, I think of how, as children, we are imaginative, uninhibited, happy, and live in the moment. Then as adults, we are burdened by fear, greed, hurt and many other emotional turmoils. So much to bear, the self is lost. We then become wandering souls in this vast jungle, worrying about tomorrow, regretting yesterday, while forgetting how to live today. I pray my grandchildren always remember to live in the moment.
I went downstairs as the boisterous four came in, snow-covered, hungry and hoping to be entertained by Grammie. I provided snacks and a deck of playing cards. Then with full stomachs, tired limbs, bold statements and endless questions, which include Leo’s “Guess what? Grammie never saw snow until she was very, very old!” (22 years). Jasper remembered his Grandy teaching him how to play poker. Then Lily asked, “Grammie, how was your life in Guyana and when did you and Grandy meet and fall in love?” The eldest, (Leo) in his best authoritative voice said, “Lily, don’t ask Grammie such personal questions!” And our youngest, Ruby, who spent a few formative years in her Grandy’s company, as he taught her so much – including introducing her to the moon – claimed sadly, “I miss Grandy; he always helped me with my jigsaw puzzles.”
As I listen to their questions and declarations, I think now is the time to enlighten our munchkins about my ‘snowless’ life in Guyana, and the years their Grandy and I shared. For, I believe, some moments in life are too splendid to be contained. Our grandchildren should know!
When I was seven years old, I was hospitalised for reasons still unknown to me. I remember Ma rocking me, her lovely scent, her warmth and soothing voice.
As a little girl, I had mixed emotions about being in the hospital, and I missed my parents terribly. On the other hand, I had daily visits and received beautiful gifts, such as a lovely and highly impractical pair of beaded slippers that Ma had previously denied me, after I spied them in a shop window. I also had my two beloved storybooks with me. The only inconvenience seemed to be the daily injections administered and the chore of having to eat. All that I was told years later regarding my time spent in the hospital, was being allergic to penicillin and having a rare blood type.

Every morning while hospitalised, my brother Kash, twelve years my senior, brought me my favourite comic strips, ‘Mutt & Jeff’ ‘Maggie & Jiggs’ and ‘Blondie’, neatly cut from the daily newspapers. Kash also brought small wooden toys he made in his spare time to keep me entertained. He was a gifted woodworker and made my sister and I beautiful dolls’ furniture, so intricately done, we thought it was the work of Santa’s elves.
I’m sure I had frequent visits from my other siblings, especially Arif, the third eldest of my brothers, who affectionately called me “Bones,” a monicker he still uses today. Arif, my jovial and charismatic brother, always had time to take my sister Zorena and I driving and sometimes organised trips to the beach with us and our friends. He knew how we hated taking our daily dose of cod liver oil and would reward whoever reminded him to administer it. Zorena, whom I presume didn’t mind the taste, became quite rich, while I had to continue taking the ghastly oil and was poorer for it.
Niz, the fourth of my brothers, was and still is the most mischievous. He derived much pleasure in teasing his younger sisters and always tried to shift his naughty pranks on us.
Zorena, three years my senior, and I are close; we did everything together as kids. I remember as teenagers how she always looked out for me, especially when we attended parties. I don’t know if it was her protective instinct or the responsibility imposed by our parents. It must have been tiring to take care of another when you yourself were so young. She was level-headed and responsible; I in turn, the opposite.
The eldest of my brothers, Zed, sixteen years my senior was like another parent to me. One who also indulged my every whim. Sometimes, while he was courting my sister-in-law, Lyla, who lived outside of the city, I was taken along to visit; I’m sure at my insistence. She came from a family with no small children and, therefore, I was showered with attention. I recall my naps after our Sunday lunches with them. My siesta room had many little trinkets which I loved playing with when they thought I was having a much-needed rest.
Khalda, my eldest sister, and her husband Hassan are the ones responsible for getting me hooked on Second World War movies; a period in history that still interests me. I remember being a pre-teen munching through mouthfuls of Smarties, my eyes glued to the screen, as I rooted for the good guys.
I spent many happy years with my siblings, and being the youngest in a family of seven was indeed advantageous. Now, reflecting on the relationship I have with them, I see they each influenced my life in a different and positive way. The common bond was their love and caring attitude. I hope they are aware that this feeling is reciprocated.
ABOUT THE BOOK

In 1960s Guyana, Merle and Aubrey dared to love across divides. Their forbidden romance, born amidst prejudice, blossomed into a lifelong journey that spanned continents. From Guyana’s shores to Canada’s embrace, and through heartfelt letters across the Saudi Arabian sands, their story is a testament to unwavering devotion.

I’ll Buy You Heaven is more than a memoir; it’s a love letter etched in resilience. Merle’s poignant narrative, interwoven with Aubrey’s tender words, reveals a love that defied societal constraints and physical distance. It’s a story that will resonate with anyone who has dared to love without limits.
Discover a love that truly bought heaven.

Published by HANSIB PUBLICATIONS.

AVAILABLE worldwide from Amazon.