Fields of Bali

By Glenn Ogier

The Bali Bombings of 12th October 2002 changed the lives of many people throughout the world but not more than those who lost loved ones. This book is a personal insight into the true impact that a loss like this can have on someone as they try to make sense of their own existence – living without the one they envisaged spending forever with. Simply this is a story of love, loss and living.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glenn Ogier
• Release date: Jul 17, 2015

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Fields of Bali

Copyright 2013 Glenn Ogier

Published by Glenn Ogier at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1 – At the Tender Age of 31

Chapter 2 – To Dream a Dream

Chapter 3 – So Here We Go…

Chapter 4 – A New Day and a New Home

Chapter 5 – Family Values

Chapter 6 – Portrait of an Angel

Chapter 7 – A New and Brighter Year

Chapter 8 – Engagement Party and Wedding Bells

Chapter 9 – Making House

Chapter 10 – Love Letter, Love Letter. Go Get Her, Go Get Her.

Chapter 11 – Coming Home

Chapter 12 – Knock, Knock. Who’s There?

Chapter 13 – Four Funerals in Eight Days

Chapter 14 – Champagne and Tears

Chapter 15 – Celebrating for Pepa

Chapter 16 – Reconnecting

Chapter 17 – Where is Aunty Peppy?

Chapter 18 – Four Legged Friends

Chapter 19 – Back to Bali

Chapter 20 – One Year On

Chapter 21 – Long Service Leave

Chapter 22 – More Alone Than Ever

Chapter 23 – New Life

Chapter 24 – It’s Your Dream Now

Chapter 25 – A Reason to Write

Chapter 26 – New Life II

Chapter 27 – Farewell

Acknowledgements

Afterword – by Ruth

Prologue

The phone woke me from a restless sleep at 7.06am on Sunday 13th October 2002. It was the first time I’d been apart from my wife, Pepa, since the day we met almost twelve months earlier. I was hoping that I would be hearing her loving tones telling me how much she missed me already. Instead it was my brother, ringing to tell me that he had heard that there had been a bomb blast in Bali. This jolted me awake.

Being the eternal optimist I assumed that everything was okay, but to allay any fears I had to at least touch base with Pepa. Within the next few minutes I’d made half a dozen calls all without much luck. This included trying to get through to the Bali Mandira, the place Pepa and her friends were staying, as well as the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAT). I tried the Bali Mandira but got no answer. I assumed that as it was still early in the morning in Bali, no-one was around to take the call. I then decided to try DFAT to find out any information that might be helpful. It seemed as though the phones at the DFAT offices were constantly busy and my first half a dozen attempts were met with a busy signal. I then decided to try calling the Bali Mandira again and again until I could speak to Pepa. When reception answered I was placed on hold before being transferred to her room. The phone rang for a little while (as you would expect when waiting for someone to wake up and get to the phone). When the phone was finally picked up it was not Pepa on the other end. Instead it was Sue Broadhead, who along with three others had arrived later than Pepa. She told me that they had arrived shortly after the bombing and after getting to the hotel, had found that Pepa, and the three other girls I waved off at the airport the morning before, had gone to the Sari Club and had not made it back yet. My heart started to pound and a nervous feeling had begun to build in my stomach.

Not ever having been to Bali I didn’t know much about where things were and what club was what. This, in hindsight, gave me more reason for hope than was justified.

It felt as though the next few hours were spent on the phone, listening to ABC radio and watching the television news broadcasts, trying to establish what had happened and where Pepa had ended up. I couldn’t let myself think that she was injured, or even dead. I was sure that she would be holed up with the girls somewhere and unable to contact the others back at the Mandira.

The morning seemed to drag on as it seemed like forever between news broadcasts. As the hours passed, the network of phone calls I either made or received seemed to increase exponentially. It included several calls back to the Bali Mandira, always hoping that there would be good news – hoping more desperately to hear Pepa’s voice on the other end of the phone. The longer things went on the more mechanical it seemed I had become.

I can’t remember if I ate, showered or even if anyone came over; I was numb, in a bit of a daze, and working solely on autopilot. It was as if time had stopped.

It was as if life had stopped too. I could no longer hear my heart pounding or feel the tightness in my chest that had been so prominent only hours earlier. I’m not sure if this was just part of the shock or, that deep down, I had an inkling that I had lost my reason for living. My life was about to be changed forever.

The events that followed still live large in my daily life and have left me irrevocably changed. Unfortunately, these changes have not been for the better.

Before I tell you more about this part of my story, I would like to tell you a bit about the times that led me to meeting my wife, and so shortly after, having to face her devastating death in the Bali Bombings of October 12, 2002.

Chapter 1

At the Tender Age of 31

After my marriage of 5 years failed, I was faced with the prospect of having to start my life over again. With separation, divorce and subsequent house sale, life can be pretty lonely. With all the dreams you thought you shared with that someone special - someone who you chose to spend the rest of your life with - going up in smoke, it is nearly impossible not to feel a little lost and lonely. Even though I was the initiator of the split it didn’t make it any easier. Although it was a difficult thing to do I just knew that I could not continue with this journey which was leading me in the totally wrong direction.

I spent a lot of time reflecting on why things didn’t work in an effort to learn from it and to make sure I didn’t make the same mistake twice. I was surprised with what I found. I, like many men, was a fixer. I wanted to be needed and thought I had found the perfect person to fit that bill; someone in need of my help. I would get joy from helping her improve herself and become a better person. Unfortunately after several years I realized that this was not exactly what she needed and our battles began. We were rarely angry and hardly ever fought. Our needs didn’t match and we were simply moving along two different paths. With no solution in sight the best thing for both of us was to split.

At the start of 2000 I found myself renting a place from a friend that was not too far from work and family. In fact it seemed to be the perfect place to spend the next stage of my life, however long it was going to last. It gave me some of the grounding I needed to allow me to see my future, family wise, positively. I was also fortunate enough to have a landlord who was happy for me to refashion the yard as much as I felt necessary. This gave me an instant energy outlet. Something I needed and which acted as a balance, allowing me to entertain the idea of moving forward in my life.

After a few months of immersing myself in my work, my job and at home, I decided it was time to restart the search for the woman of my dreams. I was ready to get back on the dating scene.

Although I’d always thought of myself as a nice guy (and depending on who’s reading this, that is still the case) I have never really had much luck with the ladies. This was clearly evident in the way I got together with my first wife. After being told that she liked me I took the bait and found myself chasing. Chasing hard. All the poetic and romantic training I had completed in my youth held me in good stead; I knew it would pay off one day.

Unfortunately, in this new phase, I didn’t have someone who liked me. Nor did I move in circles large enough to meet new people, although there were a few trying their hardest to set me up. Even so, I felt that the pressure was on and that I had to do it all on my own. I was willing to do whatever I needed to do to meet my special ‘one’. It was at this time that blind dates became my thing. I rediscovered some of that youthful exuberance I once had.

Now I could spend the next few pages telling you about all the interesting girls I met, dined with, and very rarely kissed! I could tell you about the pseudonyms I used on an internet dating site, or the happenings at a couple of singles events I went to…but, although you might get a laugh, the reputation of those involved (especially mine) might be tainted.

Ok, you twisted my arm. Here goes…

After battling with the feelings of being either ‘too old’ or ‘past it’ I was starting to think that I would be alone for a very long time and that I would miss out on those lifelong dreams of marriage and raising a family. After a friend in a similar position to me confided that she had placed her profile up on an internet dating site, the thought didn’t sound as offensive as it had previously. I still didn’t like the idea, but with some assistance, ‘Cool Breeze’ found himself on the hunt for love via his computer. Apart from the possible opportunities this gave me, it was also a bit of a laugh seeing our profiles make it into the ‘Hottest 100’. Which one of us would be crowned most popular? While my friend was racing up the charts, I was languishing in the 80s and giving up hope. But, before I knew it, the race was renewed as I found myself in the 50s in a matter of days and then into the 20s with a bullet. Within another week I had made it to Number 4 but this was a mediocre finish in this race as not only did my friend hit Number 1, she actually got quite a few dates out of it. In the whole of my time on the site I only had two dates and these were both initiated by me. The following is a snippet from each.

Blind Date #1

After I had made initial email contact I was quite excited when I received such a positive response. The emails continued for a while to allow, what I believed, to be a sense of surety as to my state of mind (not a nutter) and my intentions (completely honorable). Eventually phone numbers were exchanged and I called to set up a first date. I had thought a bit about what it meant to have a first date; the pressures of expectation, the concerns with incompatibility, and how to avoid future contact if things were all one sided. I tried to be as open as possible and had discussed these issues with my prospective date, in preparation of our first meeting. To try to ease some of the anxiety I suggested we meet for brunch and, if we both felt that things were going okay, we could then catch a movie and possibly lunch to follow. We were to meet in the city under the clocks at Flinders Street Station. I took the train and as I was counting down the stops I was becoming increasingly nervous. I keep calming myself down and reassuring myself that it didn’t matter what the day brought, it would be an adventure. I hopped off the train and quickly made my way to the clocks to meet my date. I was expecting the steps to be completely clear with the exception of my date standing there waiting. Unfortunately it couldn’t have been further from the truth. The steps were packed with people waiting, talking, busking, kissing or taking photos. It was going to be harder than I thought to find her. It only took a few minutes before a pretty girl came up to me and introduced herself. She didn’t quite look like the photo I’d seen on the computer but I wasn’t disappointed with what I saw. We quickly engaged in conversation and seemed to hit it off quite well. After finding a place to eat we sat down to an enjoyable brunch with both entertaining and open conversation. We decided that a movie would be a worthy addition. Although the movie was a bit of a dud, we still enjoyed the time together. Unfortunately we both had commitments later that day so we said our goodbyes with the idea of catching up again soon.

Through phone calls during the week it was decided that the second date would be a picnic. The rules were that I would choose the spot and do the driving while she supplied the food. I decided that the Dandenongs were the place to go – within an hour of her place - with a beautiful bush setting below tall eucalypts and amongst ferns. With the birds singing their melodious tunes this was definitely my style of location.

After picking her up and starting the drive, the first part of our conversation drifted between past experiences and future ambitions. All seemed to be going fine until, after about twenty five minutes into the drive she said that I probably should have chosen a different spot to picnic (maybe Williamstown) as she had had a few picnics in Williamstown with friends and exes. I didn’t think this was really the right way to start a date. And, as I was trying to impress her with an idyllic setting, I was a little disappointed.

Lunch was a pleasing event although there were several more comments that seemed to grate a little. Due to past experiences she had developed a strong will that was specifically directed at the opposite sex. She was never going to let a man get the better of her again. Somehow, without exception, this also meant me. She was adamant that any man would have to follow her; living in the north or western suburbs was the only option (I lived down south). He would also have a high earning potential with the skills to be a work-from-home dad, ensuring her career was not affected.

I found this a little disconcerting as I lived and worked an hour and a half from her and that, as a teacher, my earning potential was always going to be limited. I was getting the feeling that maybe she was trying to push me away, and I was feeling that the further she pushed the more comfortable I felt.

When she then invited me to her work Christmas Party, I was a little confused. Two questions came to mind 1: Was I in or out? And 2: Was she in or out? I was leaning toward an ‘out’ response to Question 2. To allow me time to sort through this I thought that I’d start asking her a few questions to see if there were any other areas where we were not compatible. I asked about her tastes in food, about her career goals, her personal goals, and her responses were all quite sound. I thought that her initial position on money and location may not have really been that important and the other things, with an amount of compromise on both sides, could be conquered.

I needed something that would clearly sway me one way or the other. Did I really want to try a third date? After we had packed up lunch and had a short walk we started the drive back to her place. My mind was in a constant whirl, searching for the clincher question. Fifteen minutes in and I had it: ‘Would you shit in a hole?’ Just to clarify it a little I should tell you that this question was in relation to going camping and using a bush toilet – a hole in the ground. As I grew up regularly camping with my family and still enjoyed the occasional sortie into the bush, I was hoping to meet someone who would also enjoy the same; the positive energies I felt when spending time with nature.

Her response was not a simple no, or even a masked possibility of doing it. It was a clear, forthright and extremely adamant NO! She was even offended that I asked her and that I would ever expect her to have to demean herself to that extent.

Decision made. It was a quiet ride home. Needless to say I didn’t go to her Christmas Party and didn’t hear from her again.

Blind Date #2

This date was about a month later and, like the first, started with email contact, the exchange of phone numbers and the set up. Along similar lines as my previous blind date I thought that an early start time would help ease tensions as well as give options for tacking more on to the end of it if the desire was there.

This time we were to meet in Mornington for a late breakfast. It was a beautiful late spring morning with blue skies and a refreshing breeze. I took the opportunity to ride my motorbike as the weather could not have been more perfect. I even took a spare helmet… just in case.

As I approached the café where we were meant to meet, I saw a girl looking around with what seemed like a mixture of nervousness and excitement. I assumed this was my date. When we caught eyes she beamed a smile as broad as her face and rushed a greeting. We went inside and found a table. I sat facing the street, which I later found to be a disadvantage.

Although the food was tasty, the conversation, from my point of view at least, was quite dull. There didn’t seem to be any spark and I didn’t find her at all attractive. This was proof that some of the photos used on the internet really did not always reflect a person’s current look. I wanted out!

I was not giving myself fully to this experience; instead I was mentally opting out. This led me to thinking about what I was actually there for. Unfortunately it seemed as though I may have been becoming a little shallow – shopping for a look instead of getting to know the person first. Although I believe you always need to feel attracted to your partner, I also believe that looks are of little consequence when you meet someone full of life. Clearly I needed to change my mindset a tad.

So, with this thought I decided to open myself up to all possibilities while polishing off my last few bites. She ordered coffee, which I’m allergic to, and I ordered a juice to follow the meal. And within a few minutes of more tedious conversation I was back in to the ‘I don’t want to be here’ state of mind. It was during this time that my eyes started to wander outside to the passersby. And then they landed, for the first of three times, on people I worked with and their families. I successfully hid away on the first two occasions but failed on the third. This meant that I would have to introduce the girl and possibly give a follow-up explanation at work the next