Gratitude
On The Death Of My Only Brother. May He Rest In Peace.
Over Seventy Years Of Sibling Stories To Tell — Where Do I Begin?
I have been absent from Medium for about a month, dealing with a family tragedy. The sudden unexpected death of my only brother.
These are my fondest memories of Richard, not in any consecutive order, because these images come to my mind in random flashes.
Sunday Dinners
One thing we both disliked was plucking the chooks for Sunday dinners in Big Bell — “whoever eats the most chook eats the most feathers” was our motto.
We thought that father got off light, because all he had to do was chop off its head and then tie it to the long clothesline, rather than chasing it around the back yard. Maybe we misjudged Bluey’s contribution.
Roaming In The Bush — Unhindered And Unsupervised
We spent hours roaming around in the bush. Once, we went looking for mushrooms in the middle of summer. In later years, we realised our parents had set us up, even to the point of making sure we had a billy can, to bring them home.
Like the time they sent us off looking for white camels! Tsk tsk. While they got to have an unsupervised Sunday morning lie in.
Cooking In The Bush and At Home.
We made stone forts and roasted potatoes in their jackets in hot coals. We sat around smoking Mum’s prized cane lounge, a few canes at a time, while we waited for the spuds to cook. Eventually she did notice!
Richard’s bread and butter puddings were legendary, as were his father’s rice puddings.
Two Weeks Together Alone On Holiday — Twice.
Richard came to stay with me, twice, while our Dad was in care in Banksia Park, and us just being mates was wonderful.
Visiting, driving, talking, gardening, walking. Together 24/7 for two weeks at a time and loving it. We found we had a lot in common, more than we had realised. It was a time of special caring for me, too.
His recent and generous help for Splinter’s vet bill was a blessing, although with us both being a bit prickly when it came to money — it was a somewhat like spiders mating.
“Be nice, run in, say your piece, run out before you get eaten.”
With Both Our Parents In Aged Care, It Was A Great Blessing To Have Him Visit.
Our Mum’s joy at seeing him, and seeing us together was wonderful. She absolutely lit up and he growling “Don’t call me your little boy.”
His visits triggered amazing periods of lucidity with our Dad, while Richard was there and they bonded over and over again. Telling each other stories of “remember when”, as Fathers and Sons do.
Childhood Memories Of School Days and Cats
I remember picking blackberries in the ramble by the drain at the back of Hudson Street and wandering down those drains for miles. Until we got trapped by the pampas grass and couldn’t escape the drain. That’s when we turned around to make our way home.
We walked through the bushland to school at Hillcrest, and occasionally saw a kangaroo. Long before Embleton became a housing estate or the bush, a golf course.
He, in his soap box hill trolley, in Tumut with a friend whose name I have forgotten. Our Dad made it for him.
The tiny kitten he rescued from an imminent death and we had to feed it with an eye dropper. In Tumut. Only to have the blue heeler dog accidentally kill it, and Mum quickly taking it away so we didn’t get too upset. That was Fiorello.
Tick-a-mouse was the cat we tried to bring with us from Wollongong back to Perth, only to have him do a bunk three times.
* In Seymour, at Aunty Marg’s.
* In Adelaide, and we had to stay an extra night at the Maid and Magpie. Dad had to buy a raw rabbit and stake it out to catch him.
* He finally disappeared down a rabbit 🐇 burrow near Cocklebiddy on the Nullarbor. He was last seen yawning in Isobel’s face, (our Mum) and left to his fate. With the number of rabbits out there, we had no fear of him starving to death.
How Can I Capture Almost 70 years of Sibling Relationship In So Few Words?
Richard cared. Above everything else, he cared.
For Sandra, his wife, and their family. For his parents and for me. He cared deeply about his pets and wildlife. He cared about doing an honest day’s work whether for a boss or for himself.
Richard cared and did it quietly. For neighbours, too.
One in Brisbane told Anna they called him Richard The Braveheart.
That sums him up so very well.
I am heartbroken to have lost you when we should have had another 20 years together. You are my only brother and I will always care about you, and honour your memory.
Sleep easy. Your race is done. We will take care of your family now.
Gratitude Is Everything
The story above is taken from my tribute to him as part of his funeral remembrance service.
He was given a beautiful funeral. Quiet, respectful, and peaceful.
He was a man who cared.
Neighbours called him Richard The Braveheart
May he Rest In Peace 🙏
https://me.dm/@lesleydewar/111485733105576815
I wrote a gratitude post on Facebook when I got back from an interstate trip, for the funeral of my only sibling, my brother Richard.
Part of that gratitude is for Medium itself . I am grateful to be able to share our story with you. The next story was one of his favourites.
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