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.