“She might not live.”
That’s what the surgeons told Michael, way back in 2011, after I was burnt.
They asked him if he wanted to see me, but warned him I looked different (my head was the size of a pumpkin and they’d shaved it).
He thought: If Turia’s going to die, I want to remember her how she was, with long dark hair and her big smile and her full lips.
And then he had a second thought: If she survives, I’ll marry her.
I survived and, unbeknown to me, using an inheritance from his Nan, Michael bought a ring from a charming shop in Kununurra; the diamond in it was even from the mine where I’d worked as an engineer.
Fast forward four years, and Michael’s proposing to me in the Maldives and I’m saying yes and we’re going midnight snorkeling with manta rays.
I’ve always loved diamonds – they’re literally the hardest stuff on earth….
My fingers are burned, so I wore MY symbol of everlasting love around my neck on a necklace.
I was traveling overseas, was in a taxi with my son, and he was playing with it – swinging it back and forth and back and forth – until…
What happened next? Listen below.
