30 years ago something extraordinary happened to me. Although some of the finer details are now a little blurry, the end result of this incredible experience remains with me - including the feeling that it might have been a miracle.

I was Merelyn Watson back then, young mother of two heading overseas for the very first time. 12 days in Thailand without the kids was both exciting and scary.

We had many things planned including a day trip to the famous Kanchanaburi War Cemetery followed by a boat ride down the River Kwai and a visit to the Burma 'Death Railway'. Obviously it was going to be an emotional day.

Before leaving Australia, then husband Simon and I had been 'commissioned' by the wider Watson family to look up and take a photo of a relative assumed buried there during the war with the surname Watson. We thought it was unlikely we would find the grave in the short time our tour was going to be there among the 6982 graves, but we wanted to give it a try.

Before the days of mobile phones with handy camera and google assistance, we headed off for our half hour visit and started walking up and down the isles in the cemetery scanning for names. We were a bit overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of the history of heartache lying in front of us, but were determined to see as many graves as possible.

30 minutes went by with no success finding anyone named Watson. The call came to re-board the bus and we tried to squeeze a few more rows in. The bus driver was starting to get cranky and started yelling at us to hurry up. I was some distance from the bus and decided that to get there quickly before said cranky driver left without us, I cut across a line of graves heading diagonally to where the bus was instead of politely and respectfully going up and down each row (I mean the driver was REALLY annoyed at me by now).

The going required dodging and weaving and inevitably in my hurry I tripped and fell on top of a grave stone. Feeling very ashamed I jumped up ready to run again, but before I did I sideways glanced at the stone.

I couldn't believe my eyes when the name was Watson, and it fully matched the person we were looking for.

I hastily took a photo, ran to the bus and sheepishly apologised for holding everyone up.

The holiday continued to it's conclusion and I headed home alone to Melbourne where I processed the photos, and got on a bus to Mt. Gambier to spend some time with the Watson family and be reunited with my children..

I had the photos of my trip in my hand luggage on the bus and was settling in to the 6 hour trip when I heard a very elderly gentleman talking rather loudly to the bus driver that he was heading to Adelaide to attend a Weary Dunlop reunion.

Colonel Sir Ernest Edward 'Weary' Dunlop was an Australian surgeon renowned for his leadership while being held prisoner by the Japanese during World War II. The gentleman speaking to the driver was in the same prison camp as Weary and others, many of whom were buried in the Kanchanaburi Cemetery after perishing on the Burma 'Death Railway'.

Obviously I tuned in as they talked about the Cemetery in general and the burial of their mates in particular.

During the next stop break, I approached the elderly gentleman, told him I had just visited the cemetery, had some pictures in my bag, and asked would he like to see them.

Of course he did, so he sat next to me on the next leg of the journey and told me all about his time in the Japanese prison camp in Thailand. Talk came around to the cemetery again and he commiserated that he had never had the chance to return there to look up the graves of his friends, including his best friend.

At this point in time, I was reaching into my bag, pulling out the photos ready to show him. I asked what his best friend's name was.

I couldn't believe it as I flicked to the next photo in my hand, he spoke the name,and it was Watson - the exact name on the grave in the photo - the one I had stumbled over on my guilty run back to the bus.

We both sat there astonished. Tears welled in both our eyes as I handed him the photo. After some time, he quietly asked if he could have a copy of the photo. He said it was wonderful and even though there was no time to get him a copy before the reunion he was heading to that weekend, he was so excited to tell the remaining diggers about meeting me and seeing for the first time his best friend's grave stone.

If only I'd had a mobile phone then! I held onto the picture, tried to concrete it in my memory and then handed it to him saying it was more important that he share it with his friends as it might be his only chance.

So I handed over the photo's, and the negatives as he would need copies for all his mates, he went back to his seat for the rest of the trip, we said goodbye at the end of the journey and that is all I ever saw of him.

I don't recall his name. I don't need to.

I was meant to go to that cemetery and trip over that grave. We were meant to meet that day on the bus, and he and his friends were meant to have the photos.

I will never forget the overwhelming feeling of knowing I was in the right place at the right time.

I think of that man often, certainly he would have passed by now, and I wonder if he and his mates sent me a blessing that day of the reunion and perhaps some days after, as they reminisced with photos in hand and tears in their eyes.

When events unexpectedly and improbably come together that like, some call it synchronicity!

I call it Synchronicity AND a Miracle!

Be happy.
Merelyn Carter

Merelyn’s writing is supported in part by the sale of her books. Autobiography - ‘The Deepest Part of Me’.  ‘Inspire’ – inspirational reflections for your life’s journey.  ‘Stories behind the Songs’ and her first children’s picture book ‘To The Moon and Back - Grandma’s Rocket Ship Adventure’. To find out more about her work and to support her through the purchase of her writings and music, please go to www.carterandcarter.com.au