Chapter 17: Eventually

“Head Nursing Sister Jenkins,” said the voice on the phone. “How can I help?”

“Nurse Jenkins, this is David, Abbie’s husband.”

“I recognize the voice.”

“How is my child?”

There was an immediate silence on the other end of the line.

“Sir ... how were you informed that you have a child?”

“That is not the issue here ... the issue is my issue ... so to speak. My daughter survived the death of her mother. How is her health?”

“Sir, pursuant to New South Wales Statues, Abby’s offspring has been released to the Church Missionary Society of New South Wales as an orphan.”

“How can she be an orphan? Her father is alive.”

“All I can tell you is that she has been put in custody of the CMSNSW pending further review.” She sounded very nervous. “I recommend you contact them at your earliest convenience.”

We stopped at the house, where I picked up our marriage license and other documents I considered might be necessary.

The viewing at the morgue was difficult ... and rather unfeeling.

The black bag rested on the stainless steel pan. The bag and pan were designed for the largest possible use so the lump in the black bag looked inconsequential.

The attending rolled the wheeled pan under the light.

Before opening the bag, he said, “Abbie was a registered organ donor. She had been since she was 16, she donated her organs to any compatible recipient.”

“Why wasn’t I contacted?”

“Abbie had no listed next of kin ... she had neglected to file your marriage license with the state authorities. As far as New South Wales is concerned she was unmarried.”

Another shock!

“This is never pleasant,” he said, as he unzipped the head of the bag.

Harvested ... Abbie had been harvested.

I vomited.

“A normal reaction,” said the attendant. He directed me to a washing station where I rinsed my mouth.

The face was enough.

“What’s left is Abbie,” I said.

“Positive identification.”

“Yes ... that was my wife.”

“There is a Chapel in the main floor. If you need to seek solace a chaplain is available in his office next door.”

“Thank you.”

As I was leaving I could him humming as he sluiced my leavings to the drain. The song sounded suspiciously like Disney’s “Whistle While You Work.” Must be an interesting job, I thought.

The office wouldn’t take a check ... but my One Card took a hit. Arrangements for the body and services were expensive, time consuming, and mind numbing.

So numbing I forgot about my child.

Through it all, Jim was a brick.

Jim organized my life ... arranged feeding, laundry, cleaning as I slowly pulled myself together.

About the time ... two weeks ... I remembered the child ... the Aboriginal Child, Family and Community State Secretariat came calling.

“We’re a not-for-profit organization funded by the NSW Department of Family and Community Services. We are the Number one organization providing Child Protection and out of home care policy advice on issues affecting Aboriginal Children.”

I could picture the caps as she made the requisite governmental spiel.

“Am I going to need a solicitor?”

“I don’t see why. If you’ll just sign these documents I’ll be on my way.”

First mistake ... she tried to prevent me from reading the paperwork.

“Excuse me.”

“Jim ... I need a good Solicitor ... now.” I said to my phone.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Tea or coffee?” I asked the lady from the ACFCSS.

I spent a good deal of time in the kitchen.

The rap at the door was on time.

The young person presented me with identification that proclaimed to all the world that she was one Jenny Wren, Lawyer, Solicitor.

She immediately recognized the woman from the ACFCSS. Ms Wren snapped her fingers ... ACFCSS produced the paperwork.

Ms Wren said, “Give me a dollar.”

She folded it into her purse.

“Don’t sign a thing.”