Death of a Brother #3

I continued to guide the planning of a ceremony that reflected my brother Bruce’s life and met as many of the family’s needs as possible.   On the morning of the funeral we were finally able to individually view Bruce’s body and say our personal farewells.  I was struck by the mark on his forehead where he had been winched off the mountain by helicopter. 

After saying my goodbye, I sat outside the funeral home beside a small lake and watched dragonflies flitting about.  They are an insect I’ve always been drawn to, and now they are a link with my brother.

As we gathered before the funeral it seemed as though everyone else was hugging in small groups and I suddenly felt very alone and missed Stephen dreadfully. Then I saw a man with a ponytail who looked kind and reminded me of Stephen.  I approached him, introduced myself and said I needed support.  He immediately offered a hug, but all I wanted was a hand to hold, which he willingly provided, and we joined the procession together.  As we neared the venue, I felt stronger and detached myself.

My nephew drove Bruce’s Alfa Romeo with the coffin from the funeral home to the crematorium.  This was no easy task as the powerful motor was not intended for slow driving.  The rest of us walked together in procession behind the car for the half mile.  This physical journey, accompanying the hearse, was immensely important and satisfying for me.

Newspaper item about Bruce’s funeral

The funeral was crowded, with a young man Bruce had mentored as M.C.  He used an article I’d taken with me which had been printed in the Canterbury Car Club Newsletter when Bruce left Christchurch in 1962.  I spoke about our early life together and Bruce’s three eldest children spoke too.  I felt a tremendous sense of achievement that Bruce was honoured and farewelled in such an appropriate manner.  The ceremony had no spiritual references, my scientific brother being an atheist.  After the ceremony two of Bruce’s colleagues approached me, said they were fellow members of the local atheist society and sought permission to write up the ceremony for their newsletter which I was happy to agree to.

Bruce’s partner immediately returned to Christchurch, but I stayed in Ballarat for another week, processing the whole episode, getting to know the next generation,  spending time with two former sisters-in-law, and making new discoveries about my brother, myself, and our family patterns..  I stayed with a nephew, his partner, and their baby daughter.  By chance, Judith Durham and the Seekers, who had been favourites of Bruce, played a concert in Ballarat that week.  The three of us went together, held hands, and wept.

Two days after the funeral I finally managed to get a few hours to myself and enjoyed the luxury of simply wandering round town in the sunshine.  I found myself walking incredibly slowly, and I realised this was part of the physical unwinding from tension.  I enjoyed looking at the wonderful Victorian buildings with lace iron work on their verandahs, and I sat for some time in the middle of an avenue, not unlike our familiar Bealey Avenue, except that instead of chestnut trees these were oaks, and the gentle breeze kept up a steady fall of acorns all around me.

During all this time I was physically and emotionally stretched to my utter limits, yet whenever I felt I had nothing left to give I discovered a further depth to my own strength.  I was sustained by the love of my new-found family and by my regular early morning phone calls home.  I flew back to Christchurch on Sunday afternoon, went back to work on Monday morning, and spent Monday evening with my ritual group of close women friends who lovingly offered me spiritual sustenance and music.

There was one more task I needed to do to complete this funeral process for myself, and three weeks later I flew to Auckland for the purpose of sharing my experiences with my daughters.  It’s hard to explain what an ordeal this was for me.  My daughters are easy to talk to and very understanding and yet I was literally scared shitless.  I was overwhelmed by my new knowledge that I had to break my family pattern of hiding emotions by fully sharing with my daughters all that my brother’s death meant to me.  I was going against strong messages I’d received from my mother which I knew she had received from her mother.  Messages my brother had also heard.  Above everything else was my determination that I would break this pattern, and I did. 

It was a suitable farewell
which I went on to show-and-tell