One Last Flutter
This story is with the compliments of Readers Digest, written by Kim White's daughter, Lisa.
You may also go to http://www.readersdigest.com.au/my-story-one-last-flutter for the actual article.
You may also go to http://www.readersdigest.com.au/my-story-one-last-flutter for the actual article.
My grandmother was crazy about horse racing. As a kid, I remember her scouring the racing section of the Saturday paper from top to bottom, systematically circling her picks for each race and then walking down to the local TAB to place her bets – 50c for a win and 50c for a place. Happy with her horses, she’d return home, where she’d listen to the races on her old transistor radio, interrupted only by crackling bouts of static.
It was 2003. The Spring Racing Carnival was underway and the Melbourne Cup was only days away. Sadly, though, Nan had been admitted to hospital a few weeks prior and was going downhill quickly. She’d been battling Parkinson’s disease for more than ten years and, at the age of 81, had now reached the stage where she could no longer care for herself. My father visited her as often as he could, sitting by her bedside and talking to her about the things she loved, trying to keep her spirits up. She was slipping in and out of consciousness and, by this time, hadn’t spoken for days. It was clear that she didn't have long to go.
Still, Dad was happy to keep her company and was chatting away to her one Saturday when he thought to ask, "Who’s going to win the Melbourne Cup on Tuesday, Mum?" He didn’t expect an answer but, without missing a beat, Nan quietly whispered back, "Number 12." Stunned, my father leaned across the bed and grabbed her hand tightly. He asked again, "Mum, which horse did you say is going to win the Melbourne Cup?" Her eyes flew open and she repeated the answer, only louder this time, "Number 12. My birth date is 21/12/21. Number 12!"
It was 2003. The Spring Racing Carnival was underway and the Melbourne Cup was only days away. Sadly, though, Nan had been admitted to hospital a few weeks prior and was going downhill quickly. She’d been battling Parkinson’s disease for more than ten years and, at the age of 81, had now reached the stage where she could no longer care for herself. My father visited her as often as he could, sitting by her bedside and talking to her about the things she loved, trying to keep her spirits up. She was slipping in and out of consciousness and, by this time, hadn’t spoken for days. It was clear that she didn't have long to go.
Still, Dad was happy to keep her company and was chatting away to her one Saturday when he thought to ask, "Who’s going to win the Melbourne Cup on Tuesday, Mum?" He didn’t expect an answer but, without missing a beat, Nan quietly whispered back, "Number 12." Stunned, my father leaned across the bed and grabbed her hand tightly. He asked again, "Mum, which horse did you say is going to win the Melbourne Cup?" Her eyes flew open and she repeated the answer, only louder this time, "Number 12. My birth date is 21/12/21. Number 12!"
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I don’t think anyone in my family could quite believe it but nevertheless, a few days later when the Cup rolled around, we all placed a small bet on number 12 out of loyalty to my Nan. It didn't matter that none of us had ever heard of the horse – a feisty young mare by the name of Makybe Diva.
Needless to say, "the Diva" went on to win the race that day – her first Melbourne Cup – but, unfortunately, Nan never got to see it. She died at 2am on the eve of the race. As it turned out, a week or so before she passed away, Nan told Dad and his two brothers that she wished for each of her seven grandchildren to receive a $2000 gift from her before she died. As was her nature, although she didn’t have a lot of savings, she wanted to share what she did have with her loved ones. Most of us used the money to buy something special to remember Nan by, but my brother Brad decided to keep his share for a "rainy day". |
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By the time the 2005 Melbourne Cup came around, Makybe Diva had won the race two years running, no doubt guided by a fantastic jockey but also, I’m certain, by Nan looking down from above. I’m not sure what led Brad to gamble so big on that first Tuesday in November 2005, as he never normally gambles. Something must have told him that this is what Nan would have loved and wanted. Whatever the reason, he decided to bet his entire $2000 bequest on Nan’s horse. The odds, I believe, were three to one. Brad didn’t tell anyone what he’d done and, as we all watched the race with the thought of Nan in the back of our minds, we prayed that her horse, would once again get up and win.
Well, as we all know, Makybe Diva made history that day by winning the Melbourne Cup for the third year in a row. She also made my brother a small fortune – with some help from Nan, of course.
I remember watching on TV as the jockey was congratulated after the race. "How did you do it?" the commentator asked. "The horse looked for all money like it was out of the race, stuck near the back of the pack as it turned into the straight." The jockey replied, "I didn’t do it. The horse did. It was like divine intervention. The horses in front of us parted and through she went. It was amazing." I couldn't help but think proudly of Nan and, with tears in my eyes, I sent a text message to my Dad, knowing that he would have been watching. He replied with the same underlying emotions of astonishment and sadness.
When the Melbourne Cup rolls around this year, I know I’ll think of my grandmother and smile. I still miss her terribly, of course, but I’m comforted by the fact that at the end of the day, just like the great Makybe Diva, she went out as a winner.
Well, as we all know, Makybe Diva made history that day by winning the Melbourne Cup for the third year in a row. She also made my brother a small fortune – with some help from Nan, of course.
I remember watching on TV as the jockey was congratulated after the race. "How did you do it?" the commentator asked. "The horse looked for all money like it was out of the race, stuck near the back of the pack as it turned into the straight." The jockey replied, "I didn’t do it. The horse did. It was like divine intervention. The horses in front of us parted and through she went. It was amazing." I couldn't help but think proudly of Nan and, with tears in my eyes, I sent a text message to my Dad, knowing that he would have been watching. He replied with the same underlying emotions of astonishment and sadness.
When the Melbourne Cup rolls around this year, I know I’ll think of my grandmother and smile. I still miss her terribly, of course, but I’m comforted by the fact that at the end of the day, just like the great Makybe Diva, she went out as a winner.