Candi Heads Home

When we flicked on the lights of the townhouse in Darlinghurst after the return trip from Bexley North it seemed vaguely different to me.  For the past week this had been Candi and my base for all of our activities since we arrived in Sydney. I felt that we had done a pretty good job of adapting to our strange surroundings and lending a hand wherever we could during this last busy, stressful week.  Our focus had been on doing all the things we were able to support our other family members in dealing with this unforeseen tragedy.  As I looked around the ground floor of the townhouse I saw the collateral of some of that work; copies of The Sydney Morning Herald from 11 October, pages of yellow notebook paper with notes that I had handwritten; booklets for cell phones and calling plans; business cards for funeral directors and copies of documents. 

We were able to get through this past week with the unbelievable love and support of so many.  It was a lonely feeling being in that townhouse in Darlinghurst on the night we said goodbye to our son and brother separated from our American families by 8,000 miles.  Although we were there with our Aussie relatives and friends the thought of the other people that cared about us in California and Texas that could only know what we were experiencing through short phone conversations and email exacerbated that loneliness .  I appreciated Candi's company more than she could know, her desire to make everyone feel loved and less sad and her let's get it done spirit.   So much of what I thought I knew about my children before this past week I concluded I didn't really know at all.  As a parent the default perspective of your child gravitates toward what they need and what you are able to provide to fill that need.  In the case of my son I learned that I was ultimately powerless to influence the course of his destiny.  As for my 3 daughters, I found them to be pillars of strength far beyond what I had previously allowed myself to understand and fully capable of handling that which life sends their way.

Candi and I sat at the little bar in the kitchen and traded perspective about the day.  She was anxious to get home to her 2 young children and husband that she had left so abruptly.  She figured she could pack her suitcase in the morning and we would pick it up after our outing to the zoo and head to the airport so that she could catch her flight home that evening.  She listed the little gifts she had picked up through the week for her children knowing they would be expecting Mom to bring them "something" from her trip.  I made sure she knew I would wake her in plenty of time to allow her to get her things together before we had to head out to Circular Quay in the morning.  We then decided it was time to ascend the stairs to bed.

I awoke as early as usual the following morning. After a cup of coffee I set out on my walk and to phone Mitzi to give her the outline of what took place the previous day.  It was impossible, as hard as I tried, to properly explain the feelings and emotions that ebbed and flowed throughout the events of 13 October.  She was as supportive and understanding as always but I'm sure wanting much more information than I could provide walking up and down the streets of Darlinghurst speaking into a mobile phone.  When I finished my conversation with her I headed back indoors to wake Candi a little earlier than usual so that she could have time to get her things together for the trip home.  Melissa rang to let us know that she and others would meet us at the Ferry Terminal to Taronga Zoo at 10:00 a.m..  I assured her we would make our way there.  Candi and I scrounged up breakfast from what we already had on hand and decided to walk the 20 minutes, or so, to Circular Quay as it was another beautiful, sunny day.

We met Robin, Melissa, Jeanette and Mag at the agreed upon time and boarded the ferry for the trip to the zoo.  Taronga Zoo is located on some of the most valuable real estate in the world.  Views across Sydney Harbour, back into the city and out to the Harbour Bridge are afforded throughout the grounds.  It was nice for all of us to have a normal, somewhat relaxing day, of sorts, and spend some time together enjoying the exhibits.  We made a special effort to visit the Meerkat display which was always one of Geoff's favorites along with all of the displays of indigenous Australian animals. 

When we disembarked after the ferry ride back to Circular Quay we said goodbye to Jeanette and Maggie and we walked the few short blocks to the parking garage at the Sir Stamford Hotel where Robin had left her car.  It was early afternoon and Robin suggested we take a drive to Bondi Beach where we could go for a walk and have a look around as there was still plenty of the day left before we needed to have Candi at the airport for her long ride home.  Bondi Beach was gleaming in the bright sunlight when we arrived.  Given that it is one of the most famous surfing beaches in the world we stripped off our shoes and took a walk in the sand at the edge of the surf.  We people watched and tested the temperature of the ocean while also observing the board riders from the crescent shaped shoreline.  We conversed about the events of the previous days and plans for our short term futures.  Candi shared stories she had heard from her husband and children about Tanner's birthday party that hadn't been told before.

When it was time we climbed back into the car and headed back to Darlinghurst where we picked up Candi's already packed luggage while Robin double parked and then made our way to Kingston Heath Airport.  Robin dropped Melissa, Candi and me curbside of the International Terminal so we could get Candi checked in while Robin found a spot to leaver her vehicle in the carpark.  We navigated through the V Australia Airlines check in process uneventfully and Candi insisted on treating us to an early dinner while waiting until she needed to make her way through the security routine before boarding her flight.  At the appropriate time we accompanied her to the last spot where those without boarding passes were allowed after winding our way through the various duty free shops and following hugs, kisses and tears we watched her walk through the doors separating the security screening process from the rest of the airport.

Into the Night

I shut the door to the taxi after paying the fare and walked up to the front door of Robin's home in the rain.  As I made the transition from the wet, dark exterior to the inside where it was warm and brightly lit it was obvious that more than just those of us that rode in the taxi were present.  Along with Robin, Mag, Melissa, Candi and Jo were some friends of Melissa's:  Patrick Rowley, Luke Meehan and Erin Copping.  A couple of the neighbors stopped by to pay their respects, some had been at the service that afternoon.  The tools and resources we had used to prepare the booklets and slide presentation were tucked away in corners of the living and dining rooms.  Although we had all certainly had enough to drink at the Pappas' home we didn't waste any time opening a couple bottles of wine and offering beer to anyone that wanted.  At one point, Patrick and Luke made a trip to the bottle shop to replenish the supply.  There were still a few surviving arrangements of flowers around the house, given in the spirit of sympathy and support, but which I had personally come to loathe.  Hearkening back to the beginning of this nightmarish week the non-stop arrival of flowers at Robin's home seemed a constant reminder of our heartbreak and sorrow.  The temporary nature of cut flowers sends the wrong message, to me, as they are so beautiful and fragrant when they first arrive but quickly fade away into a dying heap of bad smells.  I know the intent of the senders is pure and heartfelt but why this tradition continues evades my sensibilities.  I'm sure I am in the minority on this subject.

As we settled into a number of separate conversations the suggestion that we get some take-away food arose.  After all, I didn't remember having anything to eat at the Pappas's home as I was busy trying to engage as many of the folks in attendance as possible and figured the last time I had eaten was earlier that morning with Candi at the sidewalk cafe in Paddington.  Luke and Patrick volunteered to make a run to the local Thai restaurant to fetch dinner for the rest of us and when they returned with bags of aromatic food we assembled at the dining room table and proceeded to devour all that they had brought.  We told Geoff stories, reminisced about other times we were together and mostly enjoyed each other's company.  The subject soon turned to what we would do for Candi's final day in Sydney.

Candi had a flight out home of Sydney the following evening.  We had been speculating for the past few days about making sure we did something enjoyable before she left Australia.  We discussed taking a trip to Manly on the fairy and any number of other tourist oriented ventures.  We finally decided that a trip to the zoo was in order.  Sydney's Taronga Zoo is situated like none other in the world across the harbor from Circular Quay and the methodology for travelling there included a boat ride across the harbor, past the Opera House, adjacent to the famous Harbor Bridge.  The weather prediction for the next day was consistent with the fine conditions we enjoyed on this day.  We agreed that Candi and I would meet whomever else wanted to participate in the zoo trip at the Quay in the morning.  We spent a little while reminiscing about previous trips to the zoo and some anecdotal events.

As the evening progressed we started noticing the music that had always been playing in the background.  I believe the source was an IPOD attached to some speakers in the living room with a very eclectic mix of tunes.  We had our fair share of drinks and at one point Melissa, Candi and I started to dance to "Everyday People" right there in Robin's living room.  After a couple more songs discretion took over and the decision was made for Candi and I to head back to Darlinghurst in order to rest up for the long day ahead.   When we stepped outside after saying goodbye to everyone into the now clear skies I noticed how the temperature had dropped considerably and was happy I had my suit coat.  While making sure I had the keys to the townhouse, I felt the hard copy of my eulogy for Geoff in my pocket.  I thought back over the events of the day and had the sense that what we had done would have conformed to what we believed were Geoff's wishes had we only known what they were.  I was sure he was smiling at us as broadly as he always had.

Wake at the Pappas Home

John and Victoria Pappas opened up their beautiful home in Kogarah to the attendees for a wake after the service.  Many of those at the church, but certainly not all, participated and I am quite sure that the Pappas' never anticipated the large crowd we drew.  Everyone arrived in the brilliant sunshine that maintained throughout the daylight hours, some stayed for perhaps 30 minutes and others for the balance of the afternoon into the evening.  The backyard of their lovely home boasts a nice pool and patio area and with the bar set up poolside it made for a very relaxing atmosphere.  With the fine Aussie beer and wine the party atmosphere that developed once everyone had a drink in their hand was more than welcome.  Belle and Matthew Sullivan's catering was excellent and making the food stretch for such a large crowd created a small challenge but one that was met with creative talent and a late afternoon raid of the Pappas' pantry!  Thinking back on the initial belief that about 60 attendees would show up for Geoff's service made me constantly wonder how we could have underestimated that number so greatly but seeing the larger group reinforced our belief that our son was treasured by those we previously knew and many we did not.

Robin and Mag's neighbor, Stephen, had prepared a DVD based slide presentation of photos of Geoff from all stages of his life.  Candi, Melissa, Jo and I had picked those photos over the last week from boxes, albums, hard drives and anywhere else they could be located.  The DVD was displayed continuously on 2 different large screen televisions in the family room and living room.  In the background was a constant loop of music that Jo had downloaded from Geoff's IPOD that accompanied the slide presentation.  The bittersweet images of Geoff as a baby, toddler, child, teenager and young man were at the same time comforting and incredibly sad.  While reminding us what we no longer had, the images reinforced the belief that our son was truly special and a ray of sunshine in the lives of all he had met during his too short lifetime.  Various groups of young and old spent time viewing the perhaps 30 minute long presentation, many of them more than once.

I made it my personal goal to say hello to as many in attendance as I was able.  For the reason to thank them for honoring our son and to perhaps gain some additional glimpses into the circumstances of their relationships and interactions.  I met mates with whom he had studied Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, skiing partners, fellow university students, co-workers and some that only knew Geoff from his infrequent gigs as a DJ playing house music in clubs around the Central Business District.  Geoff had been involved with a club baseball team in Arncliffe (The Scots) that he ultimately managed, possibly because of his American background but more likely a product of his love of the game.  Some of those at the wake remembered him from those days.  Every individual I came in contact with was someone I would have been proud to have as my own daughter or son.  It has been said you can judge a person by the company they keep and this group earned the highest of marks.  I was also able to spend some time with Joanne's parents and found them to be deeply caring and sorrowful about Geoff.

The afternoon flew by; Father Xavier Barry turned up for cake and a glass of wine.  I spent some time chatting with him, thanking him for his caring, professional handling of the service at Our Lady of Fatima.  At one point, Luke took me aside to remind me that I had an offering for Father Barry in my jacket pocket that I had set aside earlier in the day when I made the wrong turn at the ATM near Darling Harbour.  I was a little embarrassed after having been reminded but I reengaged Father Barry and asked him to accept the gift.  He delightedly slid the envelope into his pocket without looking at the contents, thanked the Pappas family for their hospitality and made his way out of the home.  I followed him to his car and again expressed my appreciation.  I found myself thinking how opposite he was from the first priest we were assigned and how lucky we were that he was available for this day.

As the evening fell the skies darkened significantly and rain started falling driving those that remained into John and Victoria's home to avoid getting soaked.  When most had left for their homes, John Pappas called a cab for Robin, Candi, Melissa and me and we waited in the living room for quite awhile, chatting with John and Victoria and their boys before it arrived.  It was still raining hard as we left the house in Kogarah in the taxi and I couldn't help but think of the symbolism of this day that started out with such glorious weather and evolved with the brilliant sunshine was now ending with non-stop tear drops from the heaven.  The taxi driver transitioned us to Robin's house in Bexley North where Maggie and others were waiting.

Final Ride

As Joanne returned to her place Father Xavier Barry rose from where he was seated to the side of the altar and made his way to the lectern.  He blessed everyone in the church and thanked them for attending.  I couldn't believe the service was over, my mind was racing.  What were we supposed to do now?  Get up and leave? Wait for everyone else to leave first?  I looked at Robin for some sign and then noticed the pallbearers making their way up the center aisle.  Simultaneously the music that Jo and Melissa had insisted be played at the end of the service was cued up (listen to Miike Snow "Burial") .  I could feel my heart pounding rapidly as the men that now seemed to be too young and sad for such a responsibility grabbed the sides and corners of Geoff's casket.  The music was signaling that the service had ended and all that was left was to escort Geoff from the front of the altar at Our Lady of Fatima to the waiting limousine for his final ride.  When I recognized that the pallbearers, Scott Killelea, Rob Marshall, Mark Edwards, Michael Ings, Matt Popplewell and Chris Ma were in the process of turning the coffin, as was foretold my Patsy Healy, I immediately rose to my feet, hoping everyone else in the church would do the same.  I wanted to stand at attention to salute my son and his too short journey through life.  I could tell by the sounds behind me that everyone had joined in the show of respect. As the coffin was turned to allow Geoff to leave the sanctuary feet first there was a heave by the pallbearers, first to chest height and a second thrust to the level of their shoulders where they bore the weight of the Tazmanian Blackwood box with Geoff's body.  That second move from their chests to shoulders nearly ripped my heart from its mooring.  I felt my knees buckle and all the grief and sorrow that had built up over this past week decided to leave my being at once.  I felt Luke move in behind me to try to help me stand as I was now on my knees in the church pew, no longer able to stay upright.  We made our way to the aisle, I'm not sure how, to follow the pallbearers and Geoff out to the drive where the waiting limousine had been parked.  At one point during our procession out of Our Lady of Fatima, walking past the baptismal font once again, I started to invoke a mantra "Don't take him away" which I repeated often and loudly, not caring who heard.

As we made our way to the back of the hearse following the pallbearers and their precious cargo I was mindlessly obsessed with making sure they were gentle and careful when putting the coffin into the back of the vehicle.  "Don't take him away" was still emanating repeatedly from my lips in rapid fire phraseology.  As the driver dismissed the pallbearers and shut the back door of the hearse, Luke, Melissa, Candi, Jo and others joined hands with me and we walked as if in formation behind the Cadillac as it made its way to Shaw Street.  Another of the employees of WN Bull had stopped traffic in order to allow the funeral car to take it's place on the road toward the Crematorium at Woronora Cemetery.  We had previously chosen not to attend the cremation but to have our final goodbye there at Our Lady of Fatima.  As the car drove from my sight I couldn't help but feel that much of what made me who I am was ensconced in that coffin with our son to be torched along with what remained of his existence.  I stood on the curb watching the vehicle until it moved beyond my ability to see it any longer.

I turned around and observed multiple small groups quietly milling about on the church lawn.  It was now a very warm afternoon and most were wearing sunglasses and had their jackets removed.  The agenda was to move on to John and Victoria Pappas' home in Kogarah, not a very long drive, for a wake and a chance to spend some time with these wonderful people that thought it appropriate to attend our son's service.  I saw Shirley Stanley standing out in the sunshine and invited her to have a seat in the car that had brought us to the church earlier as the air conditioning was on and she had, no doubt, just endured a very stressful stretch of time.  Most of the days I had been in Sydney on this trip so far were spent in overcast, dreary skies and I took it as a sign that we saw our son off in the brilliant afternoon sky that seemed to beam as radiantly as he always had.  Luke and I spent a few minutes making sure our group had rides to the Pappas' home, some with Luke and other family members and then some of us in the limousine.  We made the 10 minute trip uneventfully and quietly, then said good bye to Michael, the driver, as he left us at the curb.  We would be finding our own way home from there by taxi or the good grace of others.

Joanne's Eulogy

As I refolded my notes and placed them back in my jacket pocket and started to head back toward my seat I could feel my legs shaking for the first time; they had probably been quaking all along, I just hadn't noticed.  As I scanned the faces in the church I saw the collective look of sadness that was the common thread among all those in attendance.  How awful, I was thinking that this was probably the first and last time I would see many of those in the church.  How much I would love to have spoken to each and every one of them to try to see what special memory they may have of our son.  I knew I would have an opportunity at the reception after the service to engage a few but not nearly the entire group.  As I passed Joanne on her way up to the lectern to continue the service as it was now her time, I think I grabbed her hand or squeezed her shoulder but I don't have a clear recollection.  In any event I was attempting to channel my most positive and supportive self, knowing how difficult this would be for her.

Joanne bravely looked out over the assembly and began her presentation, speaking softly but clearly, her love for our son bounded from every word:

"Today I wanted to share some memories and express some feelings that I feel I owe to my lover, my partner, my best of all friends, my shoulder, my inspiration, my Geoff.

We started as good friends working at Virgin Records in the city. After a year or two as friends and after quite some time teaching me about quality music and how to arrange his house music section, this friendship developed and so our love blossomed into a beautiful relationship.

Our 3 year and 8 month relationship changed my life and will change my life forever. We developed and grew, not only as a couple, but as individuals exploring in this complex, yet simple life. I believe and I am certain that Geoff was brought to this world by his dear mother and father, Robin and Craig, to show us all something beautiful. I’m sure that those of you fortunate enough to have known him are thinking of the way he touched your hearts. I, on the other hand was blessed with many. His positivity and outlook on life was his most admirable quality. With that, he showed me love and how to love. He taught me patience and to wipe out negativity.

When he was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma in November of 2007, I felt our world crumble, but Geoff was tenacious and displayed nothing but perseverance and in turn, changed me as a person. With the undying support of his family, he fought the cancer and we were stronger than ever.

During our time together, I had the opportunity to learn what a beautiful, loving and caring family Geoff came from. Each and every one of you contributed something special in his life, whether that was teaching him something, making him laugh or simply being there for him. Geoff as a son, brother, grandson, nephew, cousin, partner, colleague and friend, will be so dearly missed by all.

In the last 3 weeks of Geoff’s life, he would express to me “I want nothing more than to feel better, to be able to go back to work as normal and to enjoy being outside.” To these requests, I remained positive, just as he would have appreciated. I would often talk to Geoff about dreams I’ve had and he would tell me that he hardly dreamt and if he did, he would rarely recall them. One week before he passed he asked me to have a dream of us at the beach together… I am yet to do that for you Geoff.

Dear Geoff, the person who enjoyed the simplest things in life,

I’m not sure if we got to say goodbye properly, maybe that’s because you knew I hated that word. When I saw you on Saturday 2^nd Oct, I felt you say bye in the way you told me you loved me and missed us and mostly in the way you held my hand and wouldn’t let go. I just wanted to let you know that I know. In my last messages that you didn’t get to read, I wanted you to know that I missed you with every fibre of my being. You brought out the best in me and showed me how to overcome the worst. I will miss you everyday. I will miss the way you used to talk about things you learnt from Jiu Jitsu class and the way I pretended to be so interested, I will miss you reminding me to clean my fish tank. I will miss your face, your beautiful green eyes and the way you looked at me. I will miss your presence, your amazing and creative talent, your voice, your passion, your music, your positivity, your laugh, your humour, our passion for food, your love, your scent, your everything.

We had so much planned that we didn’t get to finish – but I wont dwell upon what we missed. I can not even begin to fathom what my life would be like without you, but I will forever remember, appreciate and admire all that we did achieve together. I’m keeping your fish tank clean and your Angel fish is safe in my hands. I hope I didn’t miss anything. I love you and you will forever remain in my heart."

Joanne looked up at the sympathetic audience through tear drops and returned to her seat.

Dad's Eulogy

It may not have been the most difficult thing I ever had to do; walk up to that lectern to deliver my words to those assembled for the funeral of my son but I am having a hard time thinking what else there ever may have been.  As I walked up to the microphone unfolding the notes I had stored in my suit coat pocket I turned to face those in attendance.  I was taken aback by the sheer number of beautiful faces in the audience.  At the time I surmised there were around 250 that thought it was important to say this last goodbye to Geoff; I learned later that there were more than 300 in the church.  I laughed a little to myself thinking that originally we had thought about 60 would attend, then the caterer convinced us to figure double that number.  I surprised myself at how calm I felt while at the same time I understood the importance of delivering these words about my son and that there would definitely not be a second chance.  I took a deep breath and began to speak:

"As Geoff’s father and on behalf of his mother, Robin, and our entire family we would like to thank all of you for the love, caring and support we have received.  In many ways it has been overwhelming.

We all want to believe that Geoff is in a better place, although he truly loved the place he was in before he fell sick.  Working as a graphic designer for an up and coming design firm in the most beautiful city in the world isn’t all THAT bad.  Having a mother and sisters and a girlfriend that adore you and an extended family and friends that can’t wait until the next time they see you, should be at the top of anyone’s wish list.

It takes faith to believe that Geoff can possibly be in a better place but what we know is that this world is a better place for the all of us whom he touched and who knew and loved him.

In January, 2006 Geoffrey and Melissa were visiting me in California.  It just so happened that on Super Bowl Sunday, as we were settling in to watch the festivities on the TV, the phone rang.   My neighbor was calling to let me know that my back fence, 30 meters long and 2 meters high which is open to an adjacent vacant lot, had been covered in graffiti overnight.  Since the fence was on my property I was obligated to clean it up.  I hung up the phone and went to the garage to organize the paint I had on hand for just this purpose.

Soon Geoff popped into the garage to ask me what I was doing.  Once I explained the situation he said to me “let me have a look”.  He left to survey the damage and I assumed to figure out what tools would be most appropriate to help me with the task.  I continued on my mission to obliterate the scar on my pristine fence and never saw Geoff’s smiling face again until I returned to the lounge room and found him parked in front of the TV watching the now half-over Super Bowl.  He looked up at me and so I naturally inquired of him (in that way that only annoyed fathers can communicate with their sons): “What Did You Think?”  In a disgusted tone of voice he said “Dad, it had no artistic value whatsoever”.    Geoff was only interested in preserving the artwork, if it was worthy, but had no interest in helping me cover up someone else’s canvas.

Those of us that were raised in the 50’s and 60’s were reminded constantly by society that we were to get an education so that we could get a “good job” – like a doctor, or lawyer, or who knows, maybe even an accountant.  We naturally pushed those ideas at our kids.  As our children developed their own personalities and philosophies it was sometimes hard to let go of our dreams for them so that we could support them in fulfilling their own fantasies.  But then, when I think about it, I don’t ever remember being at a cocktail party and overhearing a conversation like this:  “Say George, have you seen Michael’s son, Trevor, add a column of figures?  Without a calculator?”. Although my own talents run along the lines of Trevor’s (I am pretty good a doing figures in my head!) it’s a challenging transition for someone like me to understand that certain people in this world have brains that work in no way like my own.  What our right brain vs. left brain thinkers struggle with is the concern that our creative offspring are time wasters or lazy because instead of practicing their multiplication tables they are doodling and drawing or, God forbid, playing video games.  Well thank goodness they do or we wouldn’t have galleries full of beautiful art, music to satisfy every taste or the incredible buildings that make a city stand up and command the attention of the world.

Most everyone knows that Geoff had a particularly evolved appetite when it came to food.  I remember the family taking the ferry to Manly when Geoff was still a young boy and giving him the responsibility of picking out the restaurant where we were to have dinner.  Thinking I was in for a basic meal of fish and chips or a burger, I found myself more than a little surprised when he picked out a seafood restaurant tucked away from the Corso. When I asked him why he chose this particular restaurant be boldly stated: “Because I always wanted to try the octopus”.

Years later, I found myself in a restaurant in another part of the world.  On the dessert menu was an item:  “Vanilla Ice Cream with 100 Year Old Balsamic Vinegar of Modena”.  I never imagined one could mix balsamic vinegar and ice cream.  So, channeling the culinary adventures of my son I felt I had to give it a try.  The waiter soon appeared with a single scoop of vanilla ice cream followed closely by a waitress with a fancy bowl, resting on a silk scarf, draped over a small pillow.  In the bowl was a very ornate, but tiny spoon.  She then carefully ladled a small amount of the 100 Year Old Balsamic Vinegar of Modena onto the single scoop of vanilla ice cream, ever cautious not to spill even a drop.  The waitress explained she had to be very careful not to waste any of the balsamic vinegar because it was very rare and quite expensive.  When that little ceremony was over and I was allowed to taste the dessert, I found the combination of these two simple ingredients to be delicious beyond words and I scraped the bowl clean to get every last drop; I found myself wanting more.

Our son, Geoffrey, was like that 100 Year Old Balsamic Vinegar on the vanilla ice cream:  Surprising, sweet and delicious beyond words.  We just didn’t get our fill.

Geoffrey John Loe saw beauty in places most of us never looked and he heard music when many of us were deaf.  He loved his family and the love of his life.  He performed at his job brilliantly and enjoyed his friends and associates.  Those of us that are left behind can only ponder one question – Why did he have to leave us so soon?"

Participation

As Melissa returned to her seat, Geoff's good friend, Michela Galardi made her way to the lectern.  Michela and her boyfriend, Geoff and Jo were all good friends having double dated and attended events as couples and as part of a larger group of friends.  They had been planning a trip overseas in 2007 when Geoff and Michela were diagnosed with cancer within weeks of each other.  Since they both were patients at the St. George Hospital there were times when they were together receiving chemotherapy or other treatment.  Geoff and Michela supported each other during those stressful days and I can remember that when I would speak with Geoff during that period Michela's name would always come up in the conversation.  Geoff was very proud of Michela's successes and she with his. They shared each other's triumphs with the various therapies as well as the inevitable setbacks.

Michela bravely began her reading of Psalm 23.

The Lord Is My Shepherd

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures: he leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul: he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: You are with me; Your rod and your staff they comfort me.  You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies: You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and love shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord - forever.

Father Barry then read a Gospel from St. John (16:16-24) which addresses the mystery of life and death and attempts to explain the unexplainable; that death brings sadness and mourning but also joy as the faithful believe it is a return to God from where we all came.  He explained the passage and how it related to Geoff and his friends and family in his homily that followed. 

My ability to concentrate was waning.  My mind went astray thinking about how Geoff's death affected not only his family but this huge crowd assembled in Our Lady of Fatima on this beautiful day in October.  Inside that coffin lay a little piece of everyone in that building that had come to know our son and appreciated his gifts.  He was gone from our presence forever but remains in our hearts forevermore.

Father Barry was followed at the microphone by Geoff's friends:  Mandy Budden, Emily Klein and Jen Watts.  The women recited prayers to which the attendees responded "Lord Hear Our Prayer".

Mandy:  "We pray that Geoff's gifts of love and kindness are never forgotten, and replicated within us all. Lord hear us."

"We thank God for the gifts of Geoff and pray that his creativity and love of art is never forgotten, and that his music never leaves our ears. Lord hear us."

Emily:  "We pray that Geoff's soul rest in peace, and that he remains forever youthful and as happy as he was when he left us.  Lord hear us."

"We pray that Geoff's family, both in Australia and America, that they find the strength to confront their grief, and to never forget the beautiful gift that was Geoff.  Lord hear us."

Jen Watts:  "We pray for Geoff's friends and girlfriend that together they can mend the hole that is left by his passing.  Give us the strength to understand your plan for him and for us all.  Lord hear us."

"We pray for those affected by Hodgkins Lymphoma, and any type of cancer that they may find strength to fight their illness.  We pray for advances in lymphoma research so that no family ever has to ask why.  Lord hear us."

"We pray that Geoff has been greeted in heaven, your kingdom by his family that have passed before him and that he waits for us with open arms.  Lord hear us."

Father Barry took over the lectern as Mandy, Emily and Jen returned to their seats.  He recited a couple of stock prayers.  Although I was still anxious about how quickly the service seemed to be moving I was awestruck by the love and honesty that poured out from the particpants thus far.  These were people who really cared about our son and I knew Geoff's death was nearly as confronting and difficult for them as for me.  I also knew that with this part of the service concluded it was time for the eulogies; the first would be mine then I was to be followed by Joanne.

So It Begins

As Robin and I made our way up the center aisle between the church pews it was obvious there was quite a large group already seated.  The benches in Our Lady of Fatima narrow as the aisle approaches the altar and sitting straight in front of us, like a monolith at the end of the walk, was the Tasmanian Blackwood Timber Coffin with the Satin Finish that held the body that was our son.  The casket had already been placed in front before anyone was allowed in the church and was situated as Patsy Healy had previously represented, with Geoff's feet toward the altar.  At the end of the aisle, just before the casket, was the narrowest of rows, only able to accommodate Robin and me.  The sanctuary was typically austere, as is the Catholic fashion, and Geoff's coffin was draped with the predominantly green flower arrangement we selected at WN Bull and adorned with photos and some of his personal articles that Melissa and Jo had provided from Geoff's belongings, including the stereo headphones he used in his D.J. activities.  The casket was closed according to Catholic Church protocol.

Behind and to the side of us sat Luke and Anita, Shirley, Melissa, Candi, Jo, Jeanette and Mag among others with close ties to the family.  There was a fair amount of rustling among those assembled and I contributed to that background noise with the nervous unrolling and rolling of my booklet.  On cue, music began to play and I recognized it as the song Melissa and Jo had picked out to begin the service (listen to heartbeats).  The church became eerily silent as the song caught everyone's attention.  I found myself wishing the service hadn't started yet; I wasn't ready but it began, nonetheless.  While the music was playing I could sense Robin starting to weep next to me.  I held her hand, not just to comfort her but as much for myself.

Father Xavier Barry then stepped up on the altar to the microphone that was used by the officiating priest to make himself heard.  He began: "In the name of the Father, and the son, and the holy spirit" the congregation responded "Amen." Father continued, "The grace and peace of God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ be with you" to which the assembled answered "And also with you."  Father Barry then welcomed all in attendance with an opening prayer.  I continued to have this dread that everything was moving too quickly, that we had to make this service last as long as we possibly could.

After Father Barry completed his opening prayer there was a ceremony that included the lighting of candles.  Family friend, Brianna Parbury capably handled the recitation: 

"The first candle represents our grief"

she began.  At the mention of each candle, one through four, Candi lit the wicks in succession. 

The pain of losing you is intense. 
It reminds us of the depth of our love for you. 

The second candle represents our courage. 
To confront our sorrow,
To comfort each other,
To change our lives. 

The third candle we light in your memory. 
For the times we laughed,
The times we cried,
The times we were angry with each other,
The silly things you did,
The caring joy you gave us.

The fourth candle we light for our love. 
We light this candle that your light will always shine. 
We cherish the special place in our hearts
that will always be reserved for you. 
We thank you for the gift
your living brought to each of us. 
We love you. 
We remember you

Father Barry waited for Candi and Brianna to walk back to their seats before he opened up his arms and recited his Opening Prayer.  When he completed his plea to God to safely carry Geoff home, Melissa approached the lectern.  Melissa had chosen a reading from the Book of Ecclesiastes 3:1-11, sometimes referred to as "Time for Everything".  She boldly delivered the ancient scripture:

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to uproot;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

What gain has the worker from his toil? I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.

The tears were streaming down my face as Melissa walked slowly back to her seat.

Entering OLF

Michael the limousine driver was making his way back toward the car.  Robin and I along with the rest of the group in the vehicle were shifting around in our seats peering out the windows at the large group of people milling about on Shaw Street in Kingsgrove.  "Surely all these folks can't be here for Geoff's funeral?"  I found myself wondering.  As Michael returned to open the door for our exit I stepped outside into the warm sunshine and started to make my way slowly toward the expansive concrete steps leading to the entry foyer of the church.  Among the many conflicting observations I had was the perception that this was a nice looking group of people, primarily young adults.  They all seemed to be smartly and professionally dressed and as they gathered in small groups were more mindful of a wedding or a graduation ceremony than the somber purpose for which they were drawn together on this beautiful early spring day in Sydney.  I saw some familiar faces and some that, although they were familiar, I hadn't seen in more than 20 years. 

I caught Patsy Healy's eye and approached her to make sure all was in order from her perspective.  She assured me she had everything under control except that she had yet to make contact with the pallbearers.  I found Melissa close by and asked her to round up the young men that were to perform that task and make sure they had their meeting with Patsy in the next few minutes.  Melissa was able to quickly oblige.  I was introduced to Joanne's father, having never met him before, and then a number of other people that I am sure my waning ability to focus due to what lay before me in the next hours causes me now to have some failure of memory.  After 5 or perhaps 10 minutes Patsy approached Robin and me and indicated that it was now time to take our seats in the church as a signal to the rest of the assembled to take theirs.  As we started climbing the steps toward the expansive entry doors I observed the activity just inside.  There were two separate places where attendees could sign the remembrance books that were in evidence.  Members of the WN Bull staff were handing out copies of the booklet that Melissa and Jo had prepared and one was placed in my hand and another in Robin's.  I rolled my copy into a tube without looking at it and held it like a baton in a relay race as I robotically stepped forward.

With no hesitation I entered the vestibule of Our Lady of Fatima.  Directly in front of me was a large vessel, perhaps 4 feet tall,  permanently affixed to the marble floor holding what the Catholic's refer to as holy water.  Traditionally, when entering the church, the faithful lightly dip their fingers into the water and then make the sign of the cross as a way of blessing themselves.  This vessel is also used as the fountain where the ceremony of baptism into the Catholic Faith is performed.  As I walked through the vestibule of Our Lady of Fatima directly toward the font I was struck with the realization that his was exactly the spot where Geoffrey had been baptised 26 years earlier.  That moment of awareness took my breath away.

Short Hiatus

There may not be many postings in the next few days as I will be in Texas celebrating my father's 80th birthday.  I included a couple photos here.  Carri was 9 months pregnant with her son, Davis Burns, in January, 2006.  Geoff and Melissa were able to visit with Davis and his sister Emily before they went home to Australia soon after he was born. I have some of Geoff's cremains with me and will be scattering them in a couple of places Geoff enjoyed with his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins when he would visit my parents, Julian and Jo Ann Loe in Wimberley, Texas.



This photo was taken in La Quinta, CA January, 2006  Candi, Geoff, Dad, Melissa, Carri

 


  


JoJo and Geoff

 

Limousine

I pulled the grey suit from the closet I had hurriedly packed after I received that phone call from Robin a week ago.  My intuition had proven to be right about my need for it during this trip.  My self talk was one of disbelief that I was actually putting on a suit to attend the funeral of my son.  Not in all my years had I ever dreamed that a day like this would come.  I completed the half-Windsor knot in my tie and headed downstairs to wait for the driver to appear.  Candi was ready, nicely attired in her newly purchased dress and bargain shoes from Vinnies.  At exactly 12:20 p.m., the pre-arranged pick up time, my mobile phone rang.  Robin was calling to let me know that she had just heard from the driver, "Michael", and that he was lost.  My blood pressure immediately elevated about 20 points and I asked Robin to give the driver my cell number (which he should have had in any event) and decided to walk out the front of the townhouse to see if I could spot him.  After about 5 minutes I noticed a black stretch Cadillac limousine at the end of Taylor Street but driving past on Flinders.  I phoned Robin back to tell her to let Michael know he was in the neighborhood and I would wait out the front for him.  On his next pass he noticed me waiving my arms, I'm sure frantically, and he finally headed in our direction.  He pulled up in front of the doors and Candi and I entered the back of the car as he held the door.  Michael apologized, explaining that all the little streets, many of them being one-way in this neighborhood made it difficult to navigate such a large vehicle.  Since we were only about 10 minutes late at this point I wasn't particularly unnerved.

A limousine like this is truly obtrusive in Sydney.  Most of the vehicles, due to the cost of fuel and the lack of adequate parking, are much smaller than what we are used to in California.  I felt incredibly conspicuous riding in the back of the big black Cadillac.  As Michael neared Bexley North Candi let out a scream "It's Geoff" she hollered.  She startled me and I didn't have a clue to what she was referring.  She started to giggle with embarrassment at her own astonished reaction and pointed out that a moth was flying around in the back of the limo.  I assumed that relating my 10 minute dalliance in the concept of rebirth with the cockroach earlier in the week influenced her thought process.  Likewise, as with the little red bug in Darlinghurst, she didn't want me to smash the moth but she wasn't comfortable with it flying around in the back of the car, either.  I grabbed one of the glasses that are kept in the back of limos for happier trips and managed to trap the moth on the floorboard.  I noticed then that Michael seemed to be making more than the normal amount of turns than I thought were necessary to get from the main road to Robin's home.  It started to become apparent to me that he was lost again.  It proved to be only about a 5 minute diversion but I found myself wondering how a professional driver could get lost twice in the span of about an hour.  Nonetheless, we pulled up to the front of Robin's within a few minutes of the scheduled time.

Candi and I exited the limo and I released our captive friend outside the car.  We entered the front door and found Robin, Mag, Melissa and Jo all ready to take this next step in our challenging journey.  I checked my inside breast pocket for the printed version of my eulogy and after a few minutes of conversation confirming that everyone's individual assignments for the day were under control we took our places in the back of the Cadillac for the ride to Our Lady of Fatima.

It was a gorgeous early spring day in Sydney, warmer than I had anticipated with the sun shining brightly.  As we turned up the street in Kingsgove where the church was located I noticed that there seemed to be vehicles parked all along the road and quite a few people on foot heading in the direction of the church.  I found myself thinking that there must be something else scheduled at Our Lady of Fatima for the same day and started to worry about the availability of parking for those that would be attending Geoff's service.  As Micheal guided the limousine to a reserved spot in front it became apparent to me that all the cars I had seen and the people walking toward the church were there for the same reason based on the crowd of similarly attired people in front of the building.  Michael asked if we would like to stay in the car for a few minutes with the air conditioning running while he looked for Patsy Healy to make sure everything was in order before we exited the vehicle.  I think we all agreed we needed a few minutes to steel ourselves for the difficult hours ahead of us and we sat together in silence as he wandered off toward the vestibule of Our Lady of Fatima.

Darling Harbour

I rose on the morning of Wednesday the 13th of October near what had become my usual 3:45 a.m. or so.  I moved downstairs for my coffee and grabbed my printed copy of the eulogy I was to deliver at Geoff's service later that day.  I read the words over and over making ever so slight changes here and there with my pen.  I added an opening paragraph because it occurred to me I needed to thank those that took the time to honor our Geoff.  I spent some time in self-talk building up my resolve to deliver the speech with the dignity my only son deserved.  As dawn broke, I grabbed my mobile phone and headed out for my daily call to Mitzi in California and then my grocery shopping.  I knew I needed to occupy myself to relieve the tension that would surely build up during the first part of this day.  Candi and I had spoken about taking a longer than normal walk this morning and then having breakfast at the little coffee shop we had enjoyed so much in Paddington a few days earlier.  When I returned from my grocery shopping and after a few minutes at the internet cafe I woke Candi.  She had a quick cup of coffee and then laced on her running shoes after dawning her sweats; we headed out the front door and started walking toward Hyde Park.

Darlinghurst to Darling Harbour

When we reached the park I suggested we head toward Darling Harbour.  I didn't tell Candi why I was drawn to do that and we marched along in our sweat outfits competing with all those dressed for business for space on the foot path.  After a good while we crossed under the freeway packed with commuters and entered the harbour area.  When Geoff and Melissa were much younger we used to spend time in Darling Harbour at the various venues.  The Harbour area started to be redeveloped in the 1980's to be a recreational, tourist and pedestrian precinct.  Darling Harbour had been part of the railway consolidation department but was felt to be in an inferior location to be able to continue to operate in that manner efficiently.  As a result it became a very large urban renewal project which continues to this day.  Geoff used to love to visit "SegaWorld", a video game oriented amusement park that closed in 2000.  The district also houses the Sydney Aquarium, Powerhouse Museum, Sydney Wildlife World among other attractions with restaurants, parks and pedestrian walkways separating the venues and various marinas.  We made many trips to the district over the years.

Candi and I wandered through the Harbour and I would point out the different places where Geoff and I had been in the past.  At the furthest end from where we entered Darling Harbour lies the Sheraton Four Points Hotel which is the last place I saw Geoff in 2009.  To enter the hotel we walked past the doors of the "Dundee Arms" pub which is affiliated with the hotel.  Geoff and I had occasionally visited the pub.  If it was available, the pub would show the live feed of American Major League Baseball games on the big screen televisions.  With his early roots in America and growing up playing baseball in California as well as on club teams in Sydney, Geoff still had a great love for baseball and he always liked to watch a few innings of whatever game was being broadcast.  Given the relative early hour, the doors of the pub were not yet open, so I wasn't able to provide a tour for Candi except through the glass doors and windows.

We then walked toward the main entrance to the hotel and stepped inside with the bellman holding the door open.  This was the hotel where Mitzi and I spent our time in Sydney the previous year and the memories of Geoff that flooded over me once I was within the confines of the building were overwhelming.  As I have mentioned before, one of the most vivid memories I have of my son is of him standing in the doorway of our room in this hotel after he had made his way there on the train from North Sydney, displaying his incredible smile.  I walked toward the elevators with the intent to ride up to one of the floors with guest rooms so that I could, at least, see with my own eyes a doorway I was only able to visualize.  As I approached the elevator bank my emotions took over and I knew I could not make that trip to the higher floors.  I'm sure Candi thought I was losing my mind as I was standing in the lobby of this very busy hotel weeping.  I told her what was upsetting me and she did her best with words to try to comfort me.  Not for lack of effort it had no effect.

We then decided we needed to head back to Darlinghurst, via Paddington, so we began walking in the general direction from which we had come.  As we exited the grounds of the Sheraton my mobile phone was ringing.  Carri was on the telephone returning an earlier call I had made that morning but was only able to leave a voice mail.  I had wanted to check in with her to let her know how Candi and I were getting along and to make sure she knew I would be thinking about her on this most difficult day.  With the cacophony of the morning Central Business District traffic our conversation was challenging and I felt a little frustrated when I said goodbye.  I then remembered that I needed to get some cash from an ATM as to have a suitable offering for Father Xavier when that time came later in the day.  I was comfortable with my directions back to Darlinghurst while navigating our way up Liverpool Street but then I spotted a bank with an ATM that was compatible with my debit card and made a right hand turn toward the machines.  After conducting my business I walked away from the ATM with Candi in the opposite direction from which we arrived.  Candi probably thought I knew where I was headed but reality is, I was mistaken.  Although I felt I had a good general sense of direction I lead us through neighborhoods that I did not recognize and I started to feel a little panicked that we were headed the wrong way.  My anxiety started rising as I envisioned being late for Geoff's service because I had gotten us lost.  I'm sure my pace started to quicken and Candi interrupted our march with the query "Dad, do you know where you are going?"  I had to admit to her I felt a little disoriented and she reminded me that her police officer instincts wouldn't allow for it and she took over the lead.  I think we made one left turn and walked a few blocks and quickly were on the right path.  I followed Candi the rest of the morning.

We stopped at the little sidewalk cafe that Candi had come to enjoy in Paddington and consumed our breakfast watching the world go by; local residents walking their dogs; officers from Victoria Barracks out for their coffee breaks; Mothers out shopping with their children safely in school.  We walked back to the townhouse stopping at a couple of women's clothing stores along the way, looking for bargains.  We made it back with about an hour to spare before we were to be picked up by the driver from WN Bull.  I left the bathroom for Candi to use first and made my way up stairs to make sure my clothes were in order for the rest of the day.

Details

As I left the little chapel I etched the memory I never wanted and the memory I never wanted to lose in my brain.  How could such a vibrant, productive, handsome, loving young man leave us all to grieve for him at such an early age?  How were we all expected to move on with our lives when Geoff's had been stolen away so cruelly?  What powerful force of nature took the life out of my son?  These questions and a thousand more dug away at my consciousness.  There were so many things that had happened in order to arrive at this point that I did not understand or if I understood was not willing to accept.  Walking out that door and knowing that the coffin would be sealed behind me, never to be opened again compelled me to burn that final image of my son into my recall.  It wasn't Geoff any longer, I knew that, but since I understood nothing about the life force that had been my son and where it resided on this date it was all I had.

As I stepped through the doorway back into the foyer I found Luke, Melissa and Candi patiently waiting.  We rang the bell to alert Linda we were ready to leave.  She quickly stepped into the room with another woman who's very presence commanded attention.  She introduced herself as Patsy Healy and explained that she would be directing the service the following day and responsible for all details from our transportation to the church until we had been moved to the Pappas' home for the wake after the service.  She handed me her business card, which exclaimed her title as "General Manager" and welcomed me to contact her with any questions or to alert her of any difficulties, should they arise.  She asked about pallbearers; Melissa and Jo had arranged that.  She wanted to meet with the six young men before the service began and requested that we try to make sure that happened by pointing her out to Geoff's friends who were to act in that role.  She explained the methodology for removing Geoff's coffin from the church, that they would take him in feet first and would necessarily turn the coffin around for exiting the same way he entered, feet first.  Patsy needed a few minutes with the pallbearers before the service to rehearse that simple procedure, she reinforced.

Ms. Healy then inquired about the arrangements for music and assured us her folks were to be responsible for queuing the songs up at the appropriate times.  We let her know that Sister Mary would be available at the church for help with the sound system.  She further assured us that her staff would handle the remembrance book and hand out the booklets that Melissa and Jo had worked so hard to prepare.  We then discussed some other protocol issues having to do with our arrival at the church and the preferred method for seating those in attendance.  She let us know that a WN Bull car would first pick up Candi and me in Darlinghurst at Noon and proceed to Robin's to collect Robin, Melissa, Jo and Mag for the ride to Our Lady of Fatima with the goal to arrive a few minutes before the scheduled start of the service.  With that she bade us goodbye displaying the confident air of a journeyman surrounded by all the novices that we were.  As I walked out the doors of WN Bull I was comforted knowing that Patsy Healy, General Manager was going to be at Our Lady of Fatima the following day doing what she had so many times before and that which I had never.

Luke, Melissa, Candi and I then had lunch at the pub in the Marlborough Hotel a few steps away on King Street ordering our food at the bar and heading back to our tables with our table number attached to the metal stand that is the quintessential Aussie style .  After having our fill and some light conversation Luke headed off to work and Melissa drove the three of us back to Bexley North.  I sat down to Jo's laptop and started to type my eulogy that heretofore had been handwritten.  I wanted to be able to have the words printed in a font that was large enough to refer to without the use of my reading glasses.  At one point, Maggie saw that I was struggling with the task as I was still not comfortable with Mac technology having always been a PC user.  She volunteered to put the rest of my words into the document and ultimately we were able to print a copy I felt would serve the intended purpose.  Melissa and Jo left for the print shop to pick up the finished booklets.  Robin and Candi headed off to the shopping center to return the shoes Candi had purchased previously but were now replaced by the bargain she scored at Vinnie's in Paddington.

Jo and Melissa returned from the printers with the 100 copies of the booklet and proudly displayed their work to Mag and me.  Soon after, Robin and Candi reappeared with groceries needed for that evening's meal having successfully returned the too expensive shoes.  As we were all congratulating JoJo and Melissa on their fine work Robin somewhat reluctantly pointed out an oversight she saw in the printed booklets.  Although the address of the Pappas's home was prominently displayed on the back panel there was no acknowledgment as to the home's owner.  Robin felt that it was important that John and Victoria Pappas' names be included since they so graciously were providing their home and we discussed a number of options for making the change, including having stickers printed that could be overlayed on the finished pages.  Without doing a particularly good job of masking their disappointment, Melissa and Jo took off for the printer to see what could be accomplished to correct the booklets.  Candi and Robin moved into the kitchen to prepare dinner for this evening; Mag and I opened a bottle of wine while discussing the events of the day.

Melissa and Jo soon returned from the printer and let us know that the shop manager had agreed to reprint 100 booklets with the address correction rather than go with labels or some other fix.  We thought that was a good outcome on the chance we miscalculated the number we would distribute, surmising we could hand out the newest batch, first, and if we needed more than 100 we could use the inventory of those that were imperfect.  This most recent print job would be ready in the morning and Melissa believed she could pick them up and deliver them to the church in plenty of time.

Shirley Stanley joined us for dinner and we told stories and enjoyed each others company until it was obvious it was time for everyone to retire for the evening knowing we had a big day ahead of us.  We didn't speak at all about our trip to WN Bull earlier in the day except to confirm some of the details that Patsy Healy had reviewed with us.  We felt confident we had the agenda and each of our assignments under control.  Robin and Melissa once again made the round trip to Darlinghurst and deposited Candi and me at the townhouse.

Viewing

Luke piloted his blue sedan into the teaming streets of Newtown on that Tuesday morning just after the worst of the traffic.  He told Candi and me on the way that Melissa was going to meet up with us at the funeral home.  We were scheduled to arrive at 10:00 and after finding a place to park the car he used his mobile phone to check in with my youngest daughter to get an idea of her arrival time.  Melissa was in the midst of parking her mother's vehicle in which she drove herself and was just up the street.  We decided to wait for her inside of a pub not too far from the WN Bull facility and have a soft drink as we were still a little early for our appointment. Melissa was to meet us there in the pub.

When she arrived at the meeting place we came to the conclusion that Luke and Melissa would wait in the foyer of the WN Bull building while Candi and I spent whatever time we needed with Geoff.  Neither felt the need to see his body.  Melissa had been at the hospital while the staff at St. George did their best to bring him back to life and Luke had identified Geoff at the morgue.  As we walked the few blocks to WN Bull in silence I found myself anxious to see my son and not at all apprehensive.  I really had no sense of how it would make me feel but I knew I had to see him then and there because I would never again have the chance.  When we arrived at the glass and steel double doors we filed into the foyer and rang the now familiar bell to summon the attendant.  A middle aged woman appeared in a few moments and invited us into the same conference room where we had picked out all the accouterments for Geoff's services from the various catalogs.  "Linda would be right with you" were her parting words as she left the room.

Linda entered the room from the opposite side and asked if we were ready to proceed.  We advised her of our plan that Candi and I would spend some time with Geoff and that Luke and Melissa would stay behind.  As she then lead Candi and me out of the conference room Luke rose from his chair and followed behind us.  We then entered another door into what is best described as a small chapel.  There were a few rows of church like pews and at the top of the room was the Tasmanian blackwood timber coffin with the satin finish we had picked out of the catalog.  It was beautiful.  I found myself thinking we had made the right choice.  Linda guided us deftly to the foot of the coffin.  Through the shroud of a lace cover I could make out the outline of my son.  Linda asked if we wanted the cover removed and we motioned for her to take it away.

At first glance I thought this couldn't be my son but was some trick of the funeral industry where they had replicated Geoff's body out of wax, Madame Tussauds like.  He looked too little laying there in that box.  As if on cue Candi and I simultaneously blurted out "It's not him" but what we meant was the spirit and soul that was Geoffrey John Loe was nowhere in that room only the vessel that previously carried that precious life lay in the coffin.  I looked at his hair, it was perfect.  His eyebrows were thicker than I remembered.  His clean shaven face was completely unmarked.  The lines of his face seemed a little gaunt and I couldn't tell if it was a result of the preparation for the viewing or the autopsy or his recent illness but decided the reason didn't matter.  The clothing that Jo and Melissa had picked out and delivered to the funeral home was exactly what Geoff would have chosen himself, if he only could, right down to his stylish jeans and shoes.  I reached down and touched his hand and it was surprisingly cold.  Remembering that they do not embalm in Australia I concluded that the use of refrigeration at a very low temperature was most likely the reason.  Luke and Candi and I took turns hugging each other and quietly sobbing, first standing beside the coffin containing my son's body and then seated in one of the pews of the little chapel.  I remember Luke leaving after a few minutes and Candi and I walking back to the side of the coffin.  I think we laughed a little at how proud Geoff would have been about the way they groomed him so perfectly.

I don't remember if Candi was still in the chapel or not but at one point I started talking to my son:  "Damn it, Geoff" I repeated over and over as if my son had just been caught doing something naughty.  "I just can't believe it."

The Mind's Eye

I awoke on this Tuesday morning in Darlinghurst with my thoughts focused on the events of the next two days.  Today, Candi and I would be visiting the WN Bull facility in Newtown to view Geoff's body.  I won't say I was nervous about that, I wanted to do it, but I was more than a little concerned about what my reactions might be and how it would make me feel.  I tried to anticipate what it would be like so as to prepare myself for any potential outcome.  I was also thinking about the eulogy I wanted to deliver at Geoff's service the next day and had some concerns there, as well.  I wanted to be able to represent our family and convey our love and sense of loss about Geoff to those in attendance but having never done anything like this before I was anxious about my ability to pull it off.  I had blown hot and cold the last couple of days on delivering the eulogy and at one point decided I would write it but someone else would need to read it to those in attendance.  Then I delivered a stern lecture to myself with the admonition to do this for my son.  I was going to deliver the eulogy tomorrow, come hell or high water. 

I rolled over to get a look at the display on my mobile phone.  Given that it was a little past 4 o'clock in the morning I gave myself permission to get out of bed.  I carefully made my way downstairs and put the kettle on and readied the press to get that first cup of coffee started.  I seated myself at the dining table in the same position I had assumed the previous day while reading the obituary in the Sydney Morning Herald.  I grabbed my handwritten pages of Geoff's eulogy and read and re-read the paragraphs making appropriate changes along the way.  At one point I had a sense of movement on the wall opposite where I was sitting.  When I first looked up I saw nothing and went back to my writing.  A few moments later, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small red cockroach peering out from under the painting that adorned the wall.  My natural instinct was to roll up some nearby newspaper and swat the bug but something inside me told me to leave it alone.  I went back to my editing and poured my espresso into the cup.  Every couple of minutes I would glance up at the spot where I first noticed the bug and it seemed to have disappeared.  Then, after perhaps 5 or 6 minutes, the bug walked out from under the painting again and stood motionless on the wall perhaps a little more than arm's length away.

The painting on the dining room wall

I started to recall the odd conversation I had with Linda from WN Bull regarding her conversion to Buddhism and her belief in rebirth and only possessing minimal knowledge about the concept I started fantasizing that maybe, just maybe, my son's spirit had taken on the form of this little red bug.  I knew I was being silly but I made a bargain with myself that if I could get the bug to crawl onto the piece of newspaper that I was previously going to use to smash it I would set the cockroach free by taking it out to the patio and releasing it.  As I carefully approached the bug I was surprised that it didn't try to run away as had been my experience with every other cockroach I had ever come across but seemed to docilely climb on the piece of the newspaper I coaxed in its direction.  Now my mind is racing:  "What if this really is Geoff?  No, it couldn't be.  But then again, what if it is?  How could I be so foolish as to play along with this.  It's a good thing nobody is around to see me acting like this or they would surely suggest I visit the nearest psychiatrist."  I was silently laughing at my own behavior but was unwilling to stop.  Once I had the bug on the paper I immediately reacted by taking it out to the back patio area with the intent to release it.  As I opened the back door and stepped on to the decking I bent over and positioned the paper in my hand so as to give the newspaper a little flick of my wrist to provide some momentum to the cockroach for its escape.   As I looked out over the patio I noticed a little Buddha statue at the very back wall that I had never noticed before.  This eerily added to my confusion about the action I was about to take.  Apparently I overestimated the weight of the little creature because when I flicked the newspaper I launched the unsuspecting bug straight into the fish pond that was cut into the patio deck.  In a moment of a panic I raced over to the fish pond and saw the cockroach twirling around in the water.  As I tried to grab it the waves created by my fist in the water pushed it ever farther below the surface and after 3 or 4 futile attempts at retrieving it I gave up.  Surely if Geoff's spirit could have assumed the form of this bug he also could figure out how to get out of the fish pond on his own and find a more suitable vessel, I surmised.  I then vacillated between silent but hysterical laughter and sadness but ultimately convinced myself that I had been an actor in a play that was written in my own overtaxed, desperate mind.

The fish pond in the Zen Garden

I returned to my editing and when the display on my mobile phone reached that time which Candi and I had agreed was appropriate to wake her, I did.  We had our now customary cup of coffee together and decided to go for a walk before breakfast and our trip to Newtown.  We made breakfast when we returned and then readied ourselves for what we both believed was going to be a heartbreaking but necessary experience.  We were dressed and ready a few minutes before Luke was to arrive and we sat in the living room watching a rerun of some American situation comedy.  I heard the quick beeping of an automobile horn and looked out the security door to see a blue sedan double parked in front of the townhouse.  I signaled to Candi and we locked the doors behind us as we climbed into Luke's vehicle to make the 20 minute trip to Newtown.




Buddha of the Patio



Botany Bay

The neighborhood Robin was driving through looked vaguely familiar to me.  The road ran along Botany Bay and although the architecture was typical for Sydney with plenty of red tile roofs and brick buildings there were also a number of newer homes that were obviously the result of the reconstruction of houses built decades before that previously stood on the building lots.  As she guided her vehicle into a parking space I reconnoitered we were in Sans Souci near the St. George Sailing Club.   Many years ago there was a restaurant/pub by the name of "MacMaughlins" at exactly this spot where I knew I had been before but it was no longer evident.  As we exited the vehicle and started walking north along the footpath bordering the bay I reckoned 30 years of evolution in this neighborhood may have changed the veneer but not the character.  Stately Cook Pines still bordered the walkway and the innumerable sailing yachts of every size docked in the nearby slips stirred memories of warm days watching the sailors deftly guiding their vessels through the calm waters.  It was chilly and overcast this Monday afternoon as we walked along first into the formidable wind and later with it at our back.  Very few boats were availing themselves of the gratuitous energy provided by mother nature.  A few other pedestrians were out on the walkway.

As we walked along we spoke about a number of different topics:  That we would give Dr. Choi and Dr. Harvey an opportunity to back up their commitment to get to the bottom of what caused Geoff to die so suddenly;  how we thought Melissa was dealing with the reality that her big and only brother was now gone.  Geoff and Melissa had always been very close with Geoff acting as Melissa's protector when he thought she needed it or when Melissa wanted it.  This next period of time was going to be very difficult for her we agreed.  Just how unbelievable this turn of events was to us and how difficult it was to understand that our son would no longer be a part of our lives, that we would never see, touch or hear him again and just how terribly sad we were about that.  At one point, as we walked along, I was visibly upset and was probably rambling on about the situation and hopelessness that I felt.  Robin, next to me as we strode, directed a question:  "Do you feel like God is punishing you?"  Although the question caught me a little off-guard I responded with what I felt, that on some level I thought I was being punished but that the punishment certainly didn't fit whatever crime it was that I committed.  I kept asking myself  "Why our son?  Why now?" but of course there never is an answer that can be relied upon to any question that uses the term "Why".

As the darkness started to dull the horizon we headed back to the car and then to Bexley North.  When we entered the house we found Candi and Mag busily preparing dinner for the group that was assembled at Robin's that evening.  Robin had purchased fresh fish earlier in the day and she helped Candi with the preparation and cooking of the Barramundi and prawns.  While waiting for the meal to be readied Luke called my mobile phone to remind me of the time we needed to be at WN Bull the following morning and to let me know he would be picking Candi and me up at the townhouse in Darlinghurst and accompanying us to the viewing.  Apparently only Candi and I would be viewing Geoff's body the following day.  The others all preferred to remember him as they saw him last.  I knew I had to see him again and I had no hesitation about it.  We had made no public announcement about the viewing and had no desire to allow it for anyone outside our immediate family.  Since the funeral would be in a Catholic Church the casket would be closed for the service according to the Church's rules.

It seemed everyone at the table thought the meal was excellent.  After we finished our dinner Robin and Melissa made yet another round trip to Darlinghurst to drop us off for the night.  Candi and I spent a few minutes together discussing the events of the day and Candi's happiness that Tanner's birthday had seemingly gone so well.  I readied myself for bed, popped my allotted 1 Advil PM and headed up the stairway to try to get some badly needed sleep.  I picked up the book I started the night before and began reading where I had left off but my mind was wandering.  What would this experience at the funeral home be like seeing my son in his coffin?  Was I going to be able to deliver the eulogy at his service now that I had committed myself to doing that?  How were we all going to be able to move forward with our lives without our dear Geoffrey?  I vaguely remember hearing the raindrops on the aluminum above the ceiling as I drifted off.



Botany Bay, St. George Sailing Club, St. George Hospital, Bexley North