"The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude."
Thornton Wilder
I sit here in my beautiful garden on this sunny day listening to the evidence of young life next door, as the workmen drill yet more holes on the ongoing renovations, and their music plays in the background. The birds chirp and swoop past, the wind blows, an aeroplane flies overhead with its cargo of people going from A to B. Life.
And our dear old friend Max has died - on Friday last week. Its was not unexpected. He had Alzheimer's. And so it was perhaps a blessed release to all, including Max himself.
But we all grieve - his family for their loss, myself for his wife Helen who is left alone and grieving. For they were such a tight couple. You could not talk of one without talking of the other. They were an item in the very best sense of the word. And I grieve for all of us for the loss of one of life's good people.
So who was Max to me? Our friendship is one of our longest Australian friendships, born of a chance encounter in a camping site in Robe on our exploratory camping trip up to the Murray, to Mildura, down to Adelaide and back along the coast. It was undertaken, I think in a year or so after our arrival in Australia in 1969. The summer of 197071 perhaps. A trip that created our wine cellar as we visited a lot of wineries along the way, buying cases, paying by cheque and organising its shipment home by rail. Only to realise when we returned home, and they started arriving, how much we had bought. All drunk now I think although it took a long time and as some was drunk more was bought.
But I should be talking about Max who also loved his wine - particularly like most Australian men - a good red. As I said, we met at a campsite in Robe. We had given up on the tent by then and were sleeping in the back of our VW station wagon - JAM 988 I seem to remember. Bought on our first week of arrival in Australia in 1969 and later driven to Broken Hill by my visiting parents. I digress again. That's what remembering the past does for you.
We had no real cooking equipment, or could not be bothered setting it up. I cannot remember. So when we saw this couple with their two small sons barbecuing we asked if we could borrow their barbecue. They enthusiastically welcomed us, plied us with wine and drew us into a long, warm, and entertaining conversation. Because that's what they do - did. During the conversation we discovered that we were in fact neighbours - well the same suburb - back in Melbourne, but we left it at that. For David and I are not good at following up on that sort of encounter. But one day as I was gardening, up drew Helen in her car and invited us over for a meal. Thus began a relationship that has been ongoing, and which will continue even now.
As well as their beautiful home on top of the Glen Waverley hill, filled with treasures from their travels, they had a block of land down on Anderson's Inlet - almost opposite Inverloch and we were invited down there a few times. Initially we camped - as shown below - a very young Max with our very young two boys. Max's own two sons a few years older than ours, were fantastic child minders, as were Max and Helen of course.
Later they built a beautiful holiday home, also a trove of treasures and memories and such a serene spot. Late in life, of course, it all became too much and was sold, but with some heartbreak I feel. But we were lucky to have been invited there a couple of times where we visited the local markets and beaches. But alas so few photographs. We were obviously having too good a time to bother. And still before the era of telephone cameras and snapping at anything and everything at every opportunity.
From the 1990s with child rearing over and more time and money on our hands we began our trips to France and Max and Italy joined us on I think three, maybe four of these. I am saddened at not being able to find more photographs of those times, but it was perhaps the age of film in cameras and so we eked out the photo opportunities more carefully. There are a few more but they are pretty dreadful. The last one was my 50th birthday trip I think when they presented me with some Sabatier poultry shears. I have them still.
They were prized companions - sharing one trip with Graham, who also died recently. Helen with her energy and passion and enthusiasm for anything and everything, and Max more phlegmatic with a wry sense of humour and fun. The quiet power perhaps behind the throne.
These adventures continued into the early 2000s but they became much more adventurous in their travelling than we - who stuck to France - joining tours to much more exotic parts of the world - particularly where there were gardens. For gardening was a joint passion. Their home in Glen Waverley was often chosen in the Open Garden scheme and attracted many visitors. I'm not sure how they shared out their duties, but I am guessing that it was Helen who enthusiastically planned things, and Max who helped her carry them out, with both of them maintaining it. Mostly native with a beautiful natural pool it also had a small Japanese garden - another passion - everything Japanese - that I think was developed after a trip to Japan.
I see, I have so far been writing of a couple rather than a single man, which I think shows how very much of a unit they were. I grieve for Helen and hope that she will find a way to survive this huge loss.
"They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp. Anne Lamott
Max had his own chance to shine though with Croydon Film Society - a local film society which we joined soon after arriving here. Arthouse films in the suburbs, long before the Nova and the Palace chain of cinemas. I joined the committee, and at some point we persuaded Helen and Max to join the society until Max eventually joined the committee. Within a very short time he was voted in as President a position he held for many years. He was a natural choice and a natural leader both of the committee and the society as well, turning it from simply a way to see arthouse films at low cost without having to go into the city, into a real community. This he did by the simple step of welcoming everyone to each screening. What a difference that made. When he eventually retired it was a great loss - which, of course doesn't take away from his successors. Max's personal touch though was inimitable, genuine and warm. And he kept the committee in order too with a firm but fair and generous hand, allowing everyone to have their say. Maybe the current committee will find a way to honour him.
"When those you love die, the best you can do is honor their spirit for as long as you live. You make a commitment that you're going to take whatever lesson that person or animal was trying to teach you, and you make it true in your own life... It's a positive way to keep their spirit alive in the world, by keeping it alive in yourself." Patrick Swayze
Food for thought from a very unlikely source.
Max had just recently turned 90 although Helen was not sure that he realised this. Happily though, right to the end, in spite of his Alzheimer's he still recognised his family. So a long and well-lived life. A life full of achievement and love. He will be greatly missed, even though we have all been preparing for this for some time
"Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation." Rumi
POSTSCRIPT
Still on the subject of goodbyes I learnt recently of the death of another old friend, but one who had slipped away from our circle of friends in recent years - John Critchley. Life does this to you. You live in a particular environment and make very close friendships, spending much time in these people's company. But time and geography intervene and you lose touch as your lives go in totally different directions. So it was with John who moved north with his wife Wendy. Occasionally one catches up briefly with these long ago friends - and it's a joy - but then geography intervenes again.
It will be interesting to see if, in our interconnected future, the same conditions apply.
Vale John and commiserations Wendy.