FOUR FUNERALS AND A WEDDING

FOUR FUNERALS AND A WEDDING

It’s been a bitter winter: stark, bare branches and no singing birds. I’ve lost four great friends to dwindle that precious circle that bring so much richness to our lives. Some consolation in knowing that they have taken that chariot to glory.  The funerals were such sad experiences even though glowing with the brightness of hope as we celebrated their lives with thanks. Each of these fine men died of cancer which caused such distress to such a wide circle of family and friends.

Mike Hammond was the first to be “called”. It strikes me as quite marvellous how even brief friendships can blossom into such rich and wonderful gifts. When I returned to Matt Talbot as a volunteer some five years ago, I was assigned to the Tuesday lunch group. I won a jackpot. Three men and three women (including Mike’s daughter, Tara) bring a lightness and kindness to the several hundred men who dine this large Vinnies hostel in Woolloomooloo. Mike and I immediately struck up an easy and happy friendship. It was the school thing you could say. I had just done a six year stint at our outstanding college, St Josephs and he was a Riverview “boy”. (the enemy across the river.) So, the joking, chiacking and competition was a backdrop to a deepening friendship and regard. As a very young boy with his brother he had a most unhappy experience at a country boarding school but when he hit St Ignatius he simply blossomed and became a “legend” in sport .He maintained a lifelong friendship with his Jesuit teachers, imbued with their spirituality. A mighty man was Mike. He even beat cancer about three years ago but it came back with a vengeance and carried him off in a few months. Always gallant and supportive, he was the one consoling and encouraging his family. till the end. The Mass at Riverview Chapel was so uplifting with his son giving a most unforgettable eulogy.  Sadly,  we never did get to enjoy the Riverview Gold Cup, a regatta in November, to which he invited me.

Vale Mike.

Dr. John Keneally (yes, the father in law of Christine the last feisty Labour premier of NSW) was a legend of 30 years wonderful service at the Children’s Hospital at Westmead. An engaging, cheerful man he brought many smiles and much healing to the children and their families battling sickness. .I was lucky I arrived half and hour early, as there were as many outside as inside the church, Villa Maria, at Hunters Hill, for a rare and marvellous funeral. To see that “wounded teddy bear” on the coffin, expressed so much and brought tears to the eye. Can you believe that Jane, his wonderful wife gave one of the three eulogies? Just eight minutes, it was pure gold with so much love, wit, and courage. ( I was lucky to become friends with Jane when she was a nurse at St. Joseph’s and we had Brothers with health problems.) She was followed by Tom Keneally (yes, that prodigious author) who entertained and uplifted as he shared his young brother’s story with so much feeling. Ben, the son, followed with much style….as befits our new mayor out at Botany- the prettiest council in Sydney.

Another “gift” of the Joey’s years was my friendship with Julian Miller. Again, it’s amazing how personalities just click!  Is it in the chemistry ? Quite often I would lunch with the staff and often enough there was Julian in the first “shift” and I enjoyed his company enormously. What a story he has! Following his dad’s remarkable footsteps he was an outstanding student at Joeys, went to uni briefly and then followed his call to Springwood to the priesthood. Obviously a star, he was sent to Rome with the “cream” and was ordained after his four years studies. Later, he was chosen to go to Oxford. He was the first priest to reside at Balliol College since the Reformation! With his charm, his friendly and open nature, his scholarship, he made so many lifelong friends. In his final year he became Captain of the Boats and Balliol was victorious- the first time for many years. At the uproarious dinner to celebrate those outrageous students were banging their tankards on the tables, shouting MILLER FOR POPE. He returned to became a professor at Manly, as well as  student “rector”- a very popular one. Some years later he left the priesthood and eventually married Meg. We finished teaching at Joeys about the same time and they moved to Bowral. Our friendship deepened as I would enjoy their hospitality and once I had them as my guests in the hermitage, or “Dadirri” at Mittagong.

The Requiem Mass at Bowral was so memorable. Four or five of Julian’s class mates helped the parish priest, Sean Cullen; among them  being Bishop Robinson and the author Ed Campion. The choir, an ecumenical group, with their own musical director, was such high quality.  And as the eulogist moved to the lectern, I heard a woman behind me give a gasp: “Meg is giving the eulogy…..what a woman”. Yes, it was so outstanding. Beautifully crafted she was able to capture Julian in his remarkable story and spirit. Those 300-400 attending were all drawn to this pair, a power in the town for goodness, inclusiveness and friendship. Yes, Julian was a prince of a man. We would have celebrated his 80^th this month. Those two bottles of Marist wine I gave somewhat prematurely will have to wait.

The day after Julian’s funeral came the news that Bother Kevin Herlihy had died at St. Greg’s Campbelltown. You could say it was a “happy release” as Kevin had spent most of the last year in bed, on oxygen and asleep. Visitors could stay only briefly but didn’t stop so many of his ex students coming to honour the old man who had been so significant in their lives. Kevin was a most colourful legend. Trained as an electrician he hit the Marist trail back in the late fifties. His style was unique. I recall, in those “bad old days” when Catholic schools got zilch from the government, one of the fund raising initiatives was BOTTLE DRIVE. Kevin was like a general, masterminding and directing the greatest bottle drive in history. For months the boys and their dads in Auburn-Lidcombe cluttered their backyards with masses of bottles. Then some 30 trucks ranged around the inner west dropping boxes. Next Saturday they returned to pick up the spoils. Working in the bottle yard from sunup to sundown, we sorted half a million bottles.

Outdoor education became Kevin’s forte. With near 20 years at Canberra 1000s of boys benefited with Duke of Edinburgh and Outward Bound courses. Kev led groups along the trails of explorers like Sturt, taking many days. He was tireless. A few years ago he was awarded with an OAM. Nobody would forget Kevin as he engaged so easily, with yarns and a lively patter. And if you went to his room you would gasp. The great white hunter had such displays of wild pig tusks….his contribution to eradication of pests. As a irrepressible character, he was a feature at certain occasions as he pranced around in his kilt to the skirl of his bagpipes. The funeral is scheduled this Thursday 13^th September in Canberra.  I expect it will be standing room only and those yarns will be flowing till dawn.

I’m reminded of that phrase ‘making a difference’. Pretty hackneyed and overused now, it still states a truth as well as energise many to commit themselves to a cause. Also, it strikes me that Bryce Courtney, now sadly fading, through his classic POWER OF ONE highlights what shines forth in the live of  these noble men. We’re poorer for their passing. Yet, like bright birds they flit in, alight on a branch to sing, trill or warble to stir the memories, bring a smile, a tear or a sigh. And we know and believe that love is surely stronger than death. They continue to add so much to our “river of life” as it flows to the embrace of the Great Sea.

“Do not cry because I have gone.,Smile because I have been.”

And the WEDDING ?

Well, Edwina is about to wed a Kiwi in the shaky isles. As a sharp lawyer with a commitment to social justice I would be certain that the IQ both sides of the “ditch” will rise.

Life flows on.