Reflections on a dear, departed friend
While doing some much needed and procrastinated clearing of years-old paperwork, I came across this poem from my dear, departed friend and colleague, Brad. I fondly recall reading it after he asked my opinion of his creation. I was so moved and impressed that I asked him to laminate it on a background of a picture symbolic of his words. Never one to disappoint, he did so almost immediately.
Brad was an amazing man. A mental health nurse by profession, his interactions with others were always characterised by kindness, compassion, tolerance and patience. The pervasiveness of these traits suggested that they were embedded in his very being. He was always a calming and soothing presence during the years of rapid and destabilizing changes in our workplace, and this was an extension of his manner and style with patients and their families. I and many others, have witnessed several times show he empathically and genuinely helped many, many people negotiate that potential battlefield and war zone within the domain we call Love while supporting them through this journey.
Brad (or Bradls as many of us affectionately call him) was also a helluva character. He loved his off road vehicle, and I have fond memories of a slightly disastrous but amazingly fun trip with him! And he loved blasting music from said vehicle. Hard rock, metal, pop were his consistent choices. We nonetheless always disagreed about his man-love for Nickelback. Even now that he is gone, I still would say this: “Mate, I HATE Nickelback. Period.”
Anyway, back to the off roading. He looked so at home here, with the myriad variety of communication and location devices he had built into his vehicle. From the onset Brad made things very clear regarding our roles and division of labor: “Big boss Brad” would embody the operations commander, communication officer, technical and strategic tasking executive role. “Little Jurrian” fared as follows: cheap slave labor including menial shovelling work, advance scouting on foot to look for useable tracks, and working underneath car where big boss unable to physically fit under. Yay me.
In all seriousness though, I am forever grateful to him for taking me on this road trip through Canunda National Park. The collective experiences of getting bogged, almost rolling his vehicle, destroyed dash plates and leaking radiators were balanced by being in the presence and awe of amazing scenery, meeting new people, enjoying rural hospitality, wildlife spotting and learning mechanics on the go. Brad’s calm demeanour despite some significant challenges also taught me a precious lesson in mindful self regulation.
It was thus with deep, unfathomable sadness that I learnt of his deterioration while I was overseas. My good friend had only recently retired from the field of Mental Health, after having left such a positive and loving impact on all he came across.
At the time, I was home staying in a sea-gypsy village on a small Thai Island, and was fortunate to find this small shrine by the ocean. I am sure Brad would have heard my prayers to him that I repeatedly uttered with the forlorn hope of miracles occurring, but with a genuine wish he would feel my concern and gratitude over the incessant waves of the ocean.
"We all die twice. Once with our physical death, and finally when the last person we know forgets us, or dies", says Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
I truly believe in the above quote, and as Brad would also have us do, I would urge all of us that knew him…even all of you amazing readers, to keep his memory alive through living a compassionate, generous and adventurous life. We grieve your passing, yet celebrate your life and will continue to do so through ours.
The world misses you Bradls, and is forever grateful for the positive memories and blessings you have left on it, and us. Rest in Peace Brad. Long live Brad. Because as you say in your poem: love and friendships, they endure. Even if the tides of time and loss hides them, they endure.
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