Love Beyond Time
Love continues through the aeons of time.
I feel a lucky, fortunate woman - for I have known a Great Love.
I was twenty-eight when I met Peter Nelson. I was studying for my mature-level matriculation at TAFE, preparing for Macquarie University in Sydney. One of my friends invited me to a birthday party, and that is where I met their family friend, Peter.
Within two weeks, we both knew our connection was something extraordinary - and as time passed, that truth only deepened. What a gift it was to find my life’s partner. We both believed in reincarnation and felt sure that this was not our first lifetime together. My twins, Barnaby and Shelly, adored Pete. Within two years, he had become an inseparable part of our family. I can still see him at the piano on Sunday afternoons while I sat nearby, writing my university assignments. His music filled our home with warmth and magic. I was so happy, so content. Peter’s music lifted my heart and energy, and somehow those assignments, infused with his love, always came back with top marks.
There was one piece he wrote that always carried me to Paris in my imagination - walking hand in hand beside the Seine, past little cafés and an amusement park, all the way to the Eiffel Tower and into a quiet garden beyond. He called it “Susie’s Song.”
Then Peter began to feel unwell. A swelling appeared on his neck around Easter. After the holiday, the tests revealed devastating news: Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, Stage 2. A tumour in his chest, too. We did everything we could - chemotherapy, raw foods, vitamin and juice therapies, even past-life regression (remarkably suggested by his GP, quite rare for those times). We wrapped him in prayers and love. Though there was a 70% chance of recovery, it was not to be part of Pete’s life story.
We had decided early on that we would marry on our fifth anniversary — just the two of us, in a private ceremony. Our dear friend Sue took the twins to the movies, and we married each other quietly and joyfully. It was perfect.
Months later, Peter - now on portable oxygen — suddenly said, “Why don’t we marry again, in front of everyone?” My answer came instantly: “Of course, Pete, if that’s what you’d like.”
In three whirlwind days, everything came together. Peter somehow called 80 friends, while my family and I organised the rest - a church in Gladesville, a special licence, our clothes, rings, and flowers. Barnaby was Pete’s best man, and Shelly, my bridesmaid.
It was one of the most poignant, beautiful moments of my life — the church was filled with tears and love. Pete and I were radiant, utterly in love.
We celebrated with a joyful Friday evening party, then spent a night at the newly opened Regent Hotel at Circular Quay. The next morning, we rode home in a limousine, laughing and collecting Barny a few streets away — he had been waiting eagerly to spot us. It’s such a cherished, happy memory.
Just two days later, Peter began another round of chemotherapy. Three weeks on, he was in hospital. He chose not to die at home — ever so brave, ever so thoughtful. With only 10% oxygen in his system, he was placed on a special life-support machine. After 24 hours, the doctors suggested keeping him on it longer, but Peter made the courageous decision to come off.
And so began his final journey. The soul, I believe, chooses its own time to move on, and it took longer than we expected. It started at 9 a.m. on Valentine’s Day and ended peacefully the next morning, around 5 a.m.
After 36 hours awake, my family urged me to rest. I slept near him in the adjoining room for four hours, then quietly returned to his bedside. I placed my hand next to his — he was so thin, so fragile. Gently, I whispered, “I love you, my darling.”
And somehow, though unconscious, he found his voice one last time — faint, distant, yet clear — “I love you too.”
Ten minutes later, Peter slipped peacefully from this world.
I would have loved for us to have a lifetime together. Life for me, and for Barnaby and Shelly, would have been so different. But I remain profoundly grateful — blessed to have known a love like ours.
Our bond was deep and spiritual; our years together felt like twenty-five. Peter was just thirty-two when he passed, and it’s now been forty years since he moved into the Greater Life. But I know — with all my heart — that we will be together again.
