Today MPS’s brother was finally laid to rest.
Almost two weeks since he passed, friends and family from all over the country descended on an unfurnished 2 room flat near where he lived to celebrate his life.
I, on the other hand, sat and fretted at work a state away hoping that Moo and MPS were coping alright.
Do not like.
Anyway, while I wait to hear about the service and the get together afterwards that my amazing wonderful daughter made literally hundreds of sandwiches for after a sleepless night and almost 12 hours travelling yesterday, I sit here and ponder.
MPS spent the evening into the wee small hours talking with a friend of his brothers.
He learnt many things about his brother that were never shared.
Interesting things.
Awesome things.
Amazing and wonderful adventures that Rudi was too humble or just assumed that we knew(probably more the point).
My memories of him are of someone very much like my boy, desperate to make conversation but not knowing the mechanics of socialising. Then I discover he had many many friends and I wonder was that awkwardness, that lack of eye contact and ‘inappropriateness’ only with me?
I will forever wonder.
Wonder if I knew of this other life I would have tried harder to break through to him and truly have a conversation that did not – always never deviating from theme – consist of the drive from Canberra to Cann River and from Cann River to here.
I wonder, again, if this is akin to my grandfather. His family only finding out of his heroics during the war and medals never claimed when the RSL draped that flag over his coffin.
That he wrote stories about his life. Kinda like what he grand daughter does {but she does it for fame and fortune, obviously}
Why didn’t they tell us these things. Things that wouldn’t have changed how we felt about them – family is family, love is love – but would have enriched our relationships with conversations and wonder and questions and awe.
Talk for fucks sake.
Tell us your awesomeness.
Be proud of your achievements and share your adventures.
Before it is too late and we wonder what else we could have learned.
Rest in Peace Rudi.
If you were still alive I would kick your arse.
{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }
I hear ya! We need to celebrate and share who we are or else others will feel the same as you do today.
I encourage my boys to be open and themselves, it is what I do, it is what my mother and grandmother did. Even the males in our family have been great storytellers – I nearly said braggarts – though the glory days repetition could get a bit much after a few drinks.
RIP Rudi, you should have let your spark light and shine for all to see.
@Madmother: Rudi did share his light, his generosity, his intellect & more with his colleagues & friends – just not his family. Maybe he didn’t want to brag, or was afraid of the ‘tall poppy syndrome’. I don’t know. I just feel lucky that I got to hear some of those stories today. And would have appreciated him sharing them when he was with us.
Telll your family today. You might not get another chance.
Subsequently, there’s a lot of shit being discussed with Moo tonight!
Hugs. Lots of them.
*I* made a point of putting together the photos at Greg’s funeral – most people commented on what an adventurer he was, but those people who already knew about that stuff commented on how obvious his love for us was.
…and I also discovered how important it is NOT to disappear from the family photo album. We tended to only take photos of ‘important’ things, funny things, interesting things, and forgot to take photos of the really important, everyday love things.
Each unheard story and each unseen photograph is now like the most precious gift…..
(((hugs))) It’s fear of the tall poppy thing or not wanting to blow your own trumpet; we had the same thing with Dad – he’d tell Feral Teen things we didn’t know and brush it aside as “not important, just anecdotes”.
But yeah, share and talk xxxx
There’s not much talking in my family either, with people not wanting to brag etc. I wish my parents had talked more, but then when they did they each told me different versions of the exact same stories, which differed again from what I remembered. I think I got told a lot of lies. They did hate each other.
It wasn’t until my gorgeous grandpa died that I found out some of the most extraordinary stuff about him. He & my dad were Yugoslav refugees, and I knew next to nothing about what it was like for them. Like how Grandpa broke rocks for the first few years he & my Dad were in Australia, because it was the only job he could get without English, and my Dad was only 8. Amazing stuff. Amazing post. x
I hate when relatives do that. Honest I do. R.I.P., Rudi.
Hubby’s Aunt wrote the most amazing book about her life and migration to Australia after WW2. It has been a revelation to us all.
yes… i could not agree more. some people do become better once they are gone… we see clearer and we hear clearer.
there is also the unfortunate problem of family (naming my husbands family and my family too) who would rather dwell on the negative and/or see people in a light shines only on the past indescretions. It’s just sad.
RIP to your brother-in-law.
Hey there, I am just like you, why don’t they talk, why don’t they even value their heritage like we do… and so on. They don’t pass on any information with the eagerness that we show wishing to hear it… So annoying. I remember not long ago my aunty (80’s) saying to me would I like an old overcoat she had, which she no longer wanted, and wanted to give it to me because my late mother had bought it with her, but, she stressed, it’s an old thing, I’d probably not be interested. I said, oh yes, I’d love it. It was handmade in the 40’s etc etc, of course I’d love it. She couldn’t understand that. She said in her day old things implied you were poor, and hence normally she’d throw these things out.
I guess a different generation, a different attitude. I also think with your BIL (was it??) perhaps he simply did these past times you are now finding out about, for his own enjoyment, and didn’t even think to share them. Maybe like women sometimes scrapbook or something… just a thought.
Nice post too!
Exactly like my grandpa. Lived like a little hermit. I wrote his eulogy and was astounded at the papers and stories he left behind of what he had done that we just never knew. Kept himself to himself (and his cats), and only opened up to me little by little through the hundreds of letters we wrote to each other since I was five. I never understood the scope of it though until after he was gone. I love fascinating little mystery people 🙂
Nice post. When Mum and Dad had their 50th wedding anniversary, I interviewed them about their early lives and how they got together. I – and we – learned so much about them that we never knew. That Dad used to drive 6 hours from the country and wait outside her work on a Friday night, to take her for milkshakes. That when they got married, their first ‘fridge’ was a box of wet sand. All kinds of stuff that we never knew, because, well I guess, you don’t talk about that stuff. They drive me nuts sometimes with their tales, but my aim at Christmas time, is to talk to them and get more of their stories. While they are still here to tell them.
And so sorry for your loss. x
I found out some amazing things about my own grumpa at his funeral.
And it makes me sad now, because more and more I’m realising how awesome he was (is) and how well tattoodaddy would have gotten along with him