Pat Ritter. Books

[patritter]

'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 37:

A Sea Story

Death is the final stage to our lives. I want to share a story about a wonderful woman, a dear friend, whose sudden death left a huge hole in our hearts.
Over the years our dear friend told us, ‘when I die, I don’t want a funeral. I’ve paid for a wake for my friends to enjoy and celebrate. I want my ashes shattered in the sea’.
Basically each time our dear friend repeated her wishes, we didn’t take any notice and thought it would never happen for years. Earlier this year she fell at home and broke her ankle.
Two days after her operation we visited our friend at the hospital and the operation was a success. We ed and joined in celebrations.
Two days later she never left the hospital. Complications arose from the operation and our friend passed away. To say it was a shock – would’ve been an understatement.
Without our friend, we felt sorrow and loss. She was with us – no more. Because she didn’t want a funeral, we found it difficult to say our final farewell and closure.
Six weeks after her death, we attended our friend’s wake. At ten o’clock in the morning we joined relatives, friends and acquaintances to board a ferry and rejoice her life.
Twenty-six mourners gathered on the vessel. Morning tea served and the skipper headed from the wharf. Slowly the vessel putted heading for open sea.
Fortunately it was a fine day with a cool breeze and the sun shining. You would almost think our friend had arranged the weather because of her request and wake.
Arriving at the desired spot, the skipper dropped anchor. No wind blew – it was calm and surreal. Words of grief spoken by a cousin about the life of our friend dug deep into our heart and soul. We missed her smiling face and especially her company.
Others spoke of our friend in their own way. We felt lost to witness her wish eventually came true. Ceremony of her ashes thrown to the winds of the sea; first floating, disappeared below the water; left us hollow inside.
Our friend was a member of a flower group. Each mourner chose a flower and cast it into the water in a flotilla of flowers in remembrance. This moment will never leave me.
Although our friend’s request was carried out to the letter, closure was difficult to feel. She continues to remain in our hearts and soul. May she rest in peace?
Word count: 421
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 38:

What Took You So Long?

Imagination for a child of ten years old can at times be scary. I grew up in a country town where everyone knew one another and all children gathered and played on their neighbourhood corner without trouble.
Cricket in the late 50’s and 60’s; the order of the day using the rubbish bin as the stumps; an old bat, worn and seen better days with the bowler using a battered tennis ball which had seen more games than Rod Laver. We had no fear.
Sunday nights we’d gather at the gospel hall and listen to the preacher sing his sermon and scare the hell out of us young children with his blasphemy of words. If we committed a sin, we would go to the fires of hell, he told us. We believed him.
This was a good upbringing because we never feared anything, apart from the bogyman at night, if we didn’t go to bed when told by our parents. Peace and contentment ruled the world.
Looking back on these times I did feel fear – particularly loneliness and at times not knowing where my parents had gone. They regularly went to visit their friends and play cards. We didn’t have mobile telephones or the telephone in those times.
One particular Sunday night, nearing dark, I was home alone. I waited for my parents to arrive home so we could attend gospel. This particular night they didn’t arrive home to take me to gospel.
Images grew in my mind of my parents being taken by the devil because I’d done something wrong. A shape of a person dressed in a red coloured coat holding a huge fork, prodding my parents closer to the fires of hell sprung into my mind as an image.
Darkness grew over my home where each noise scared the hell out of me. Would they ever come home, kept repeating through my mind?
Our family didn’t have a motor vehicle, only pushbikes, one black and the other pink. My mother rode the pink one whilst my father rode the other.
Frightened to not seeing my parents again, I began to cry, tears running down my face like a torrent. Suddenly the front door opened and there standing together - my parents, my mother said, ‘are you ready for church?’
Between the sobs of seeing my parents again, I said, ‘what took you so long?’
Word count: 405
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 39:

Boy Meets Girl

Do you believe in soulmates? I do. In fact I’ve been lucky enough to have had two soulmates so far in my life. When I met my wife forty years ago I didn’t know what a soulmate meant.
After thirty-one years of marriage I lost her to cancer robing a life not being able to see her grandchildren born or indeed grow up. How we met was extraordinary.
A couple of days before my twenty-third birthday; from the first time our eyes met, I knew she was the one for me. Something in the stars I suppose.
After a short engagement, we married. Like I mentioned thirty-one years later I lost her to that dreaded disease cancer. Throughout those thirty-one years we were joined at the hip and thoroughly loved one another.
I don’t know if you believe in fate or destiny. From evidence which has happened in my life, I’m a believer. I’ll share a story to back up my beliefs.
Ten years ago I decided to retire from the workforce and concentrate on my writing. When I told my wife these wishes, she said, ‘how are we going to eat?’ Her wish was to retire at Imbil in the Mary Valley. I’d never been to Imbil and had no idea where it was. It could have been on Mars for all I knew.
On chance, we drove to Imbil in search of a property to purchase for our retirement. In the window of Imbil Real Estate was a property we desired. We purchased it not knowing who was the previous owner or any other knowledge. It was the property we wanted.
Within twelve months of purchasing the property my wife was stricken down with cancer and passed away. We hadn’t completed our home. Her wishes were to be cremated and laid to rest in front of the house. I fulfilled her wishes.
Ten weeks after my wife lost her life, another person at Imbil returned home to find her husband had passed away suddenly. I had no knowledge of this family only told about the event on a visit to the local café where she worked.
Each Friday morning I visited the café for a morning coffee and was introduced to this widow. Immediately something happened, I don’t know if cupid aimed his arrow, I developed a similar feeling toward this widow than I had for my wife forty years before.
Over the next couple of years we fell in love, and I thought I’d never love another woman as I did my wife; however, fate and destiny played their part. My present soulmate grew up on the property where I now live. We have been together for seven years. I never in my wildest dreams ever imagined I would experience two soulmates in one lifetime. I’m pleased for the experience.
Word count: 479
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 40:

A Family Gathering

Once a month over the past couple of years I’ve been visiting my daughter and grandson in Brisbane. One of these visits, I noticed her lifestyle had changed and being a concerned parent wanted the best for them.
On my visit last month, we sat and spoke about her lifestyle. She cried and sobbed; through tears of sobbing admitted she’d had enough and didn’t know how to cope. She wanted to come home to the farm.
My heart went out to her; I cuddled her, wrapped my arms around her shoulders and told her everything would be fine. She stopped sobbing. We shared a moment and if I’d had a magic wand I would’ve waved it to solve her immediate problems. Understandably I couldn’t.
I live at Brooloo a small community of less than one hundred people. Gympie is our nearest town. My daughter is employed by Coles. One thing I must say is once she understands what she needs to do; she does the best she can to accomplish what she wants.
Once a decision was made, she telephoned the manager of Coles Gympie requesting a position at his store. Immediately he accepted her as an employee.
Stage one complete. Stage two began with the transfer of my grandson from Brisbane to Mary Valley State College at Imbil.
Within a week from discussing my proposal of her moving to the farm, she’d been transferred in her job; my grandson was transferred to Mary Valley College.
Where were they going to live? For the short term they’ve taken residence in my home. Through discussions, my daughter decided she wanted to build comfortable accommodation in a shed on my property for them to live. I agreed.
My son and his wife and their two children live opposite on their farm. When my daughter and grandson moved to the farm to live in my home; the family gathered. I immediately knew how important it was they all are together again.
From the beginning I wanted to help my daughter and grandson re-settle into a new environment and to be comfortable; more importantly to get on with their lives.
After listening to my plan; each agreed it should be left to me to finish the task. The whole family will be together again. I can see my late wife smile down from heaven. She always wanted the family together.
Word count: 402
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 41:

Turning Point

From age six years old, I always wanted to become a real life detective. Don’t ask me ‘why’. Each time something strange happened in our neighbourhood instinct overrode my mind – always looking for an answer and question ‘why’.
For instance, at eighteen years old, a friend told me a story of being involved in a traffic accident. Instincts ricocheted through my mind to tell me he was the driver. He denied it. I knew he lied.
Many other similar incidents occurred before I turned twenty-one years old when I fulfilled my lifetime dream of becoming a real life detective. On 28th August 1970 I became a constable with Queensland Police Force.
My first posting, began as a Plain Clothes Constable with the State Licensing Branch. Fortunately my dream did come to fruition; however my duties did not include the role of a true detective. I became an undercover agent whilst the true detective arrested the people from whom I obtained evidence.
Three years later I began my dream as a detective in the criminal investigation branch. Each day I investigated crime and bought the offender to justice. I loved being a detective.
Do you believe it takes a detective five years to earn their stripes? In this time they need to investigate many hideous crimes and constantly give evidence in a court of law.
I remember well my turning point in earning my stripes. Two scoundrels thought they would escape the law after breaking into a golf club. Before they completed their task, they left in a hurry to leave behind vital evidence which proved their presence at the scene of the crime.
Both denied the offence when questioned. Each element of the charge needed to be proven as circumstantial evidence. This is to prove they were at the crime scene and committed the crime without their admission.
This was a turning point in my career to gather sufficient evidence to prove beyond reasonable doubt these two scoundrels committed the offence of break and enter of the golf club.
Proof of soil samples found at the crime scene, matched the dirt on the soles of their shoes. Evidence from witnesses who heard them admit the offence; proved circumstantial evidence they were the persons who broke into the golf club and stole property.
This turning point opened doors I could never have imagined. This gave me an instant pathway in criminal investigation procedures which I never thought possible.
Word count: 412
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 42:

And So It Came To Pass

A friend and I have taken the same numbers for Saturday night lotto since 1982. Over thirty years. To date a prize greater than 4th division hasn’t been won. My friend tells me eventually we will win as long as we don’t give up our dream.
Winning lotto is a dream I’ve had since the game commenced. Dreams of seeing my numbers fall into the tube. Winning lotto would make a difference to my life. Money is important in everyday living. I suspect if my numbers did fall into the tube, the result would be exciting even if the amount wasn’t as much as I desired.
Many times, almost daily, I see my numbers on a Saturday lotto draw fall into the tube. If they did fall, I would accept the result whatever may be the consequences and visualise what I would do with the prizemoney.
Naturally my friend would receive half. With the remainder here is a formula. On numbers similar to the ones my friend and I take, our prize may be $550,000.00; which equates to an 8th of the total $4,000,000.00 from the pool. My share would be $275,000.00 which is nothing to scoff at.
Divided amongst my children and partner; myself gaining the lion’s share of the money, I would end up with $125,000.00 to do with as I wish.
First, I would carry out repairs and renovations to my home and property – build a rear patio; improved roadway; fencing; water connections and painting. After serious consideration I may upgrade my motor vehicle. If I need to get rid of a bit of cash then so be it.
Placing the law of averages in their rightful place, together with Murphy’s Law; whatever will happen – will happen; our numbers could fall in any Saturday draw of lotto. The longer we take these same numbers; gives us a better chance of winning.
It’s exciting to think of what may happen? We have no control of the outcome, but you’ve got to be in it to win it. And so it came to pass I continue to take lotto to fulfil my dream of seeing my numbers fall down the tube.
When this event happens, I must share with you how happy I would be and more important to share my winnings with my friend and family members. In the meantime I will never give up hope of winning.
I’m a good person and I feel luck will be with me to win Saturday night lotto at sometime in the future.
Word count: 431
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 43:

Déjà Vu

At ten years old, my first memory of visiting Charleville, a country town seven hundred and fifty-eight kilometres west from Brisbane, seeing a particular type of scrub which grew in small bushes across the landscape; mixed with red coloured soil similar to a desert; flat land as far as the eye could see. My grandparents lived in the town at the time.
On arriving at Charleville by train, my grandparents met me at the railway station. In those times steam engine puffed smoke sending fragments of coal into the carriages. Most passengers, including myself endured blackness around their eyes and mouth.
As I stepped from the carriage onto the platform, a sense of déjà vu encompassed by mind – knowing I’d been on the platform before. This mind set left me when I noticed my grandparents approach and gave me a warm welcome.
A decade later I returned to Charleville, again by train however this time a more modern one since the bygone days of steam. When I stepped from the train and stood on the platform, suddenly my mind returned to a different period to experience I’d been here before.
This feeling wasn’t anything to do with my previous visit; this visit marked a time when the Railway Station was built in 1888. A certain smell devoured my senses providing a strange odour which I never before experienced.
This is difficult to describe, only I’d sensed a similar odour on this particular platform previously and it wasn’t a decade ago. I’d never smelt this odour anywhere else until this time and place. Visions flashed through my mind of knowing I stood in this exact spot before.
I’m not a sceptic; I do admit at times thinking I have lived on earth in some fashion or another. Perhaps if truth be known, I probably lived in 1888 and had something to do with the building of the Charleville Railway Station? I don’t know.
One thing is for certain, each time I step onto the platform at Charleville Train Station; and I’ve done it many times since I was ten years old, my mind flashes a sense of déjà vu. I’ve visited this place before but have no idea when or why?
Word count: 375
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