Death of a Brother #1

I’ve written before about my father’s death in 1954.  In the 1990s family deaths followed each other in quick succession.  First my father-in-law in 1991, then my much-loved sister-in-law in 1992.  I saw her death from cervical cancer as a casualty of The Unfortunate Experiment at National Women’s Hospital.  A G.P. trained in the era of Professor Green failed to follow up on symptoms.

After her funeral I wrote a long letter to my brother Bruce in Australia sharing my feelings about her death and funeral, and the need to be prepared for such an occasion.  He responded that he didn’t care what kind of a funeral service he had as long as the hearse was capable of reaching 7,000 revs per minute from a standing start.  (My brother, a physics lecturer, was a keen amateur racing driver).

Bruce in his 1951 Singer 1500, racing at Rakaia 1957

One evening in April 1993 I received a fateful phone call.  It was my eldest nephew ringing to tell me my brother had died suddenly of a heart attack on Boronia Peak in Victoria’s Grampian Mountains.  Bruce had paid regular visits to Christchurch in the preceding few years and our relationship had become closer than ever before.  This news was a severe blow and hard to comprehend.  My immediate need was to go to Australia and be with his loved ones.  I booked a standby flight, arranged leave from work, and the next morning went to break the new to my aged mother – one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. 

After the tension of waiting at the airport for a standby flight I was on a plane headed for Melbourne.  Bruce’s partner (a close friend of mine from Christchurch) and his eldest son were at the airport to greet me and drive me to his home town of Ballarat, where I arrived just 24 hours after hearing the news of his death.  My nephews and niece were almost strangers, but in the emotionally charged situation we quickly got to know each other.  Plus, there were three members of the next generation, two of them only six months old.  Because the death was unexpected there needed to be a postmortem and while we waited for the body to be released, we planned the funeral.  As a ritual-maker this was a task I could assist with.  To my surprise his eldest son (aged 32) had never been to a funeral before.  His brother (30) had been to three during the previous year, all friends who had committed suicide.

Bruce’s archives yielded a copy of his letter to me outlining his instructions about the hearse.  When we read Bruce’s words the eldest son immediately said: “He means the Alfa” – Bruce’s treasured 1974 Alfa Romeo Spider 2000 sports car.  This son spent most of his waking hours for the next three days in a friend’s panel beating shop carefully building a frame to hold the coffin on top of the sports car.

All through this time I was getting up early in the morning to phone home and talk with Stephen and another close friend who both gave much-needed support.  Stephen offered to fly over to be with me but I declined, knowing his presence would disrupt the family dynamics even more.

He died quite unexpectedly
a bombshell for our family