I always knew that when I started this trip that it would lead to uncovering the history of my family.
I never met my Grandfather John Howell as he died on October the 13th, 1983
and I was born in December of the same year.
Despite this fact, I have always recognised a feeling of deep connection accompanied by a healthy curiosity. As a teenage I would spend hours looking and discovering his possessions at my Grandmother’s, house. Relics of a life lived from a man than I only ever knew from other people’s memories. I rejoiced in the stories from my mother, and I loved hearing about the flowers he grew for my Grandma to put in her home. He provided for his family in a way that was incredibly nurturing, with an incredible orchard and vegie patch filled to the brim and overflowing with life.
My own father, my Grandfather’s son in-law always expressed a great love and respect for this grand man. He took some beautiful photos of him and his property and my mother in the orchard. My father loved going shooting with him and I know that he gained so much from the time he spent with my Grandfather.
The year I spent living at my Grandmother’s house delivered another level of closeness and I found such joy and satisfaction spending time in his orchard and the weedy remains of his market plot garden. Hepburn Springs is such a beautiful area and I could sense that my Grandfather resided in his home with pride. He seemed to be a caring and loving man and definitely a strong family man despite his own upbringing.
One day I was fortunate enough to stumble upon his diary. The day-to-day entries of the last year of his life recorded in an obviously discarded girl’s diary with lock and key (although key was no longer to be seen, lucky for me it was open to read).
It was filled with mundane entries which were not mundane to me, but fascinating.
Thoughts were expressed about what was growing in the garden and problems he encountered and solved on his property, such as the water pump dying.
One of the last entries in the diary not long before he passed brought tears of mixed feelings to my eyes. It was written with incredible fondest for my mother Kerry who was visiting and exclaimed how excited he was by my brother who would of been one at the time, describing his delight with Matthew beginning to form sentences.
I did not know him but he was my Grandfather and his blood lives on in me and in his beautiful family. It is an Honour to be his Grandchild. And now my own research has begun, prompted gently by the flow of life. As I now take the steps of my own journey to know my Grandfather I am creating my own memories that connects me to the life he lived and his younger years in Western Australia
I have fallen in Love with Western Australia. I came to visit my brother and to experience the life he has built for himself. I did not plan to stay very long but the sunshine has caressed my spirit and recharged my very soul, so for now here I stay. I have found some work, as a nanny for a three year old which was advertised on the internet.
As I drove out to where they lived, the beauty of the Guildford area took me aback.
When I returned to my brother’s house and spoke to my mother I was reminded that Guildford was where my Grandfather attended school. My Uncle Glen had already given me this information but the details lay in my diary and it slipped my mind.
On the day I was to begin my job I attempted to find a faster route and as fate should have it ended up lost. Only to discover that my wrong turns had begun my research as I had driven straight past Guildford Grammar School, where by Grandfather attended school. With a sigh of relief and excitement I pulled into the car park to take a breather and read the road maps, I wasn’t there for long when a white Ute pulled up and a man stepped out. After saying hello in turned out that he was the caretaker and he invited me back for a tour, in the near future. I followed his directions and I found myself driving straight past the church where my grandparents were married. With tears in my eyes I drove to begin my new job, only 5mins from where my grandparents were married. I discovered that the father of Emrick (the three year old boy) works at Pearce Air Force base. Which my Uncle has told was the first posting of my grandfathers when he joined the air force in 1939, at the beginning of WWII.
It was only two days later that I returned after receiving a text message from my mother telling me it was my grandparents wedding anniversary.
It was only an hour short of dusk and the sun was quickly fading from the sky. With camera in hand i quickly snapped some shots savouring the last of the light. I was standing at the door capturing the minor details of the door handle, when the care taker walked past. With a hello and joyous explanation that it was my grandparents wedding anniversary he kindly opened the doors and inside we went to stand inside the very same church, to look up at the door arch, to gaze at the stained glass window and to stand at the altar that my Grandparents stood on this very same day many many years ago. I got a short history of the church and was delighted to hear that other than the windows being fixed and replaced the church stood as it would have stood seventy years ago.
As the night set in I took some time to myself as Lola played close by to record my thoughts
‘I take a moment to reflect upon the feelings that rush over me
as I sit with my back resting against the church
where my grandparents were wed.
It is a big and multilayered feeling
that comes and goes in a gentle swirling swell.
It is just little me sitting upon these sacred grounds of my families milestones.
My daughter skips nearby,
watching the trains, doing handstands
and worrying about what treats she will have for dinner.
I am left alone watching the feelings wash over me.
They rise and fall as the sun disappears
and the moon claims the night sky.
There are grand oaks lining the churches edge,
some remaining autumn leaves cling delicately to the bare branches,
as if they are resisting the season’s change.
I recognize the same feeling in me a resistance to letting winter claim me.
As I flee from where my grandfather now rests in peace,
chasing the sun to the West to discover where he was born.
I reflect upon the age of the trees and wonder
how tall they stood on this day seventy years ago.
I wonder whether autumn colours still clung to the bareness of the branches on their special day.
On the day that my grandparents stood at this very same spot
And claimed each other and announced their ‘I Dos’
I wonder if they had any understanding what their ‘I Dos’ would one day encompass.
A beautiful home, with its own creek and gumtree bush
an abundant garden and a strong family of Six Children,
Eighteen Grandchildren and Eleven Great Grandchildren.
And now a peaceful serene place to rest together
surrounded by golden paddocks, cows, growing gumtrees
and Mt Franklin off in the distance.
Their children are now Parents and Grandparents themselves.
Moon light walks still happen in the Hepburn community,
which is flowing with love, happiness and the next generation of joyous children.
Their two youngest children still live on the same land and nurture their abode.
A great love flows through the family and its origins are still felt,
with respect, admiration and reciprocation of love.’
We finished the night with a nice meal at the local hotel that was standing when my Grandparent’s were married on the 19th of July in 1940, four days before my Grandmother’s birthday.
We celebrated the anniversary with a ‘cheers’ and loving and fond memories of their lives that they so graciously lived.
I have an immense feeling of Kinship and Great Love for a Great Man,
John Howell.
I will always hold him and my Grandmother close to my heart and look forward to the next story that I am blessed to uncover, and retell to all that are listening.
