On a sweltering Sydney day in December 1993 I stood in front of an overflowing
congregation to deliver my father’s eulogy. It had been a harrowing few days,
and I was in no fit state for public speaking. I have no record of what I said,
but I recall that walking to the microphone was like walking through wet sand. As I waited
for my words to find their way up from the pit of my stomach, everything seemed blurry and indistinct . A
coffin that I didn’t want to see was the only thing in clear focus. Struggling to make sense of the scene before me, I knew that the chances of anything other than a deep sob
coming out of my mouth were slim.
So I well remember the wave of empowerment I felt when my
eyes finally settled on the faces of two of my most treasured friends. These two had
come into my life via different roads, from different directions, at different
times and for different purposes. Both of them were -and remain - essential to my life story. And my ongoing amusement. And my gin intake.
Seeing these two side by side at my father’s funeral somehow
amplified the support that either might have given me individually. It was a
bit like finding two corner pieces of a jigsaw puzzle at the same time – suddenly,
a task that seemed overwhelming became just that little bit more achievable.
After seeing them - my corner jigsaw pieces - emerge from the haze, I opened my mouth to speak. The threatening sob stayed put, and my words found their way into the air.
Later, as my brothers and I shouldered our father's coffin and made our way slowly down the aisle, both of those friends stood tall, strong and reassuring. They held my eye and
touched my free arm as I passed their pew. The strength of their stance and the
power of their friendship got me outside into the sunshine.
A couple of years ago I stood beside one of those friends at his mother's grave. I watched him drop a flower onto her coffin and momentarily lose himself in private thoughts and memories. Being there was an honour and a privilege for me. Afterwards, he and I walked together from the shady cemetery into the
sunshine, then drove to his childhood home to indulge in a suitably celebratory
wake.
 |
| Rest easy Gal. |
Tomorrow, the other of those two friends will farewell her father.
I desperately want to be there so I can hold her eye and touch her arm; to stand
solidly in her hazy blur. But that’s not going to happen. Instead, on the far side of the globe, feeling
helpless and a long way away, I will think about a dry-witted, open-hearted, multi-talented man who helped raise a remarkable daughter. I will try to stand tall, strong and reassuring for her, as she once did for me, and hope that she somehow senses it.
And I will make time to celebrate the force and
fortune of friendships that carry us through shadows and back into sunshine.
