Anniversaries keep coming round don’t they? Yep – 42 years ago today I married Maria Augusta Bandeira de Lima – better known to all by her nickname – Magucha. Now being married to someone from a different culture and language base has its challenges. And then throw into the mix the different personalities – me, tall (1.96 metres and 97kgs) and relatively phlegmatic, and she, tiny (1.52 metres and 50kgs), very pretty with a quick fire, Portuguese (Latin) temperament and sparks would often light up the environment!
She loved flowers, pretty things, small things, bright colours and mirrors – there are mirrors all over the house that I have left in position, not having the heart to move them. But then she also had a kind heart, was very loving with an innate sense of justice. She also was indomitable and absolutely fearless - I never saw her afraid of anything.
Another strange thing, which I call to mind, is that I never saw her cry. I’m sure she did – in fact when her father died, twenty years ago, I’m certain of it, but not in my presence. In that respect she was very private.
Being my wife, she could criticize me and point out my many faults but if anyone else tried that within her range of hearing she would fire up, almost vibrate with anger, and defend me with all her considerable powers. I loved her for that.
You see – I truly know that, if the situation had ever arisen, I would have defended her to my last breath. I have absolutely no doubts that she would have done the same for me.
Finally, however, with all her health problems and the pain she suffered, the “uninvited visitor” called and she went with him to that “Undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller returns”.
She was only 62 years old when she died five and a half years ago on 21 January 2016. We were together for just over 36 years - and I miss her more than I can tell.
As always when my emotions run high I turn to poetry to best express how I feel. I offer the following which I have used before but it still resonates with me:-
My Wife
Trusty, dusky, vivid, true,
With eyes of gold and bramble-dew,
Steel-true and blade-straight,
The Great Artificer
Made my mate.
Honour, anger, valour, fire;
A love that life could never tire,
Death quench or evil stir,
The Mighty Master
Gave to her.
Teacher, tender, comrade, wife,
A fellow-farer true through life,
Heart-whole and soul-free
The August Father
Gave to me.
Robert Louis Stevenson
