Another loss

February 2013:

My brother was ringing me. He never rang me. I normally initiated the calls ... 

"Hi Ben"

"Hey Brett. I am so sorry to hear about Frikkie, I know he was like a brother to you."

And there it was, it hit me. Ben had found the simple words that I was missing. Frikkie had died, I was in shock and I did not understand why. I saw him as a good friend, a close friend, but I never realised the impact that his death would have on me. I never understood why I felt so lost in those first few weeks ... few months. Ben had spoken it out loud. My relationship was more than just friendship - we had an honesty in our relationship and we were so fundamentally different that there was a massive gap in my life. I felt like I had no friends left. I felt like my brother had died ...

February 2005:

There was a need ... a need for space. We were running out of it. And it was this time that I saw the simple generosity of Frikkie. Before I went to South Africa with him, I only knew him a little at squash. But Frikkie had said to me that if I needed any help to build the room that I should call him ... and I did.

After spending a couple of days with Frikkie and my (cabinet-making) brother, we had the basic structure formed and the basis of a great friendship as well - helping each other, being there, and enjoying each other for who we were.

A major 'moment' in my journey to teaching was my South Africa trip in 2007. Not just for 'What color is my parachute?' but also for what I learnt there from my mate, Frikkie.

He showed me that it was okay to 'wait and let it happen'. To see what comes your way and not necessarily plan it all out. I had gone directly from school, to uni, to one company. No break, no gap year, no time off.

After South Africa, Frikkie and I joined our local golf course along with his two boys (Chris as Mike). We played every weekend together, and each Sunday night we had dinner with our two families. We were close, very close.

That was nearly 5 years ago ... our friendship had grown as our families have been for weekends away as well as a trip to Bali together.

Frikkie was like another brother to me.

Frikkie traveled back to South Africa a few times each year. In January this year he headed over as normal. He check in on his South African business that sold remote control cars, helicopters and diecast cars. It was normal for him to do this. He spent three or so weeks in South Africa and Germany at this time of year for the Toy show. I shifted my golf games to earlier in the day while he was away (Frikkie did not like early morning starts even though he did play better at that time).

This time, though, he took Chris and Mike. Chris was on university holidays and Mike was about to start his course as a first year. They could spend some time together in South Africa and play some golf ... follow some of the paths that Frikkie and I had taken in 2007. Spend some father and sons time.

On the 16th February this year my wife came back from being out in the morning with a shocked expression. Frikkie and the boys had been in a car accident with a truck in South Africa.

The impact of the truck had thrown Frikkie from the car. The truck had come out of nowhere from the other side of the freeway and it was a miracle that they were not all killed in that instant.

Driving behind Frikkie and the boys was a lady who stopped when she saw the crash. Her husband was an off-duty parametric and she called him. He arrived before the ambulance and (I believe) saved Frikkie's life. 

Back home, Lynette (Frikkie's wife) was arranging to fly straight out ASAP (24 hours as it turns out is the minimum by Australian requirements). Frikkie was in hospital and in the best of care thanks to his business manager, Tucky, who had paid for what needed to be done.

Lynette and their daughter arrived in South Africa. We practically moved in to look after Frikkie's mum and dad who lived with them in Australia.

Frikkie was having all sorts of operations but he was stable. He was over the worst of it. I was talking to my wife, Colleen, about me going over to be beside Frikkie in two weeks time when Lynette would come home for a break. And so I went away that long weekend ...

It never occurred to me not to go away on a golf trip with work colleagues. It was something Frikkie and I would do together and he would have loved.

I had not taken my mobile phone with me. There was no need. Frikkie was stable. The danger was over. At 11am, on the 7th hole of Tocumwal Golf course in Victoria Australia, the golf pro came out in a golf cart to our group and asked 'Is Brett Murphy here? He needs to ring his wife'.

I must have been in shock, I could not remember her number, I had to ring my dad and ask for Colleen's mobile number. I thought she was going to say that Frikkie had taken a turn and they were taking him into surgery ... but I was not prepared.

Between sobs ... 'He's died, Frikkie has died'.

Albury Railway Station where I transferred from my bus to overnight
accommodation to get the first plane out the next day.

One week after the crash, Frikkie had died. Friday 22nd February. I was mute (rare for me I can promise you). I rushed around not knowing what to do - get back, stop golf, how do I get back? I had traveled down with other people and so had no car.

The short version ... at 3pm Friday I started ... 30 min car ride, 3 hour bus, overnight stay for a 6.30am first flight back to Sydney on Saturday morning - car, bus and plane.

The next week and a bit was a blur ... in and out of their place, answering calls, and on it went. Lynette and the kids arrived back on Monday 4th March (my Mum's birthday). On Tuesday Lynette asked me to come out with her to pick a place to put Frikkie to rest.

The view looking over Frikkie's resting place

So here I am, sitting on the back of a 7 seater golf buggy (Frikkie would have been impressed) driving around the cemetery with Frikkie's wife, mum and dad. We found a place at the top of a hill. 

On Friday 8th March we put Frikkie to rest. I was honoured to do the eulogy.

And now I have my own space, but it is a hole. I have a hole in my heart and my friendship. We started our friendship by building a wall together and now I felt like I had hit one.

I thought I knew grief, I thought I could handle it. I was wrong.

Who would have thought that this tragedy would lead me to my passion ... till next week ...

How I found my passion

In my previous post I spoke about my mum. She was a teacher and headmistress (as they were known then) for over 30 years before she passed away from pancreatic cancer.

I never followed her teaching path, although it always fascinated me. I vividly remember when I was a teenager being in her Kindergarten classroom and watching the eager eyes look up at Mum and take in everything she was singing or saying. The smiles, the learning that was taking place in that environment made me smile, (on the inside as well). This was a moment in finding my passion ... but I did not realise it at the time.

Instead, after high school I went into university to do a business degree. I finished and had some job offers. I took a role in a large blue chip firm as a sales graduate as they were the most efficient in getting back to me after each interview stage and (frankly) they would look good on my resume when I left.

18 years later (in the same firm) in 2009 and I am managing payments to over 1,000 sellers for commissions in Australia and New Zealand - my first finance role. This role left me emotional exhausted.

At one point at the end of my commissions time, my wife, Colleen, asked me how I was feeling: 'See that corner over there, I want to curl up in it and not talk to anyone'. Apparently this was not the 'normal' Brett and the Psychologist in Colleen saw through it immediately.

So picture this ... it's 6pm Friday night at Dural Squash Courts where I coached. One of my friends, Frikkie, came up to me and said 'Great to hear that you are coming with me to South Africa'. I must have stood there mute and with a questioning look on my face. Colleen came over and said 'Here, tell your manager you leave next Thursday'. She handed me a ticket from Sydney to Johannesburg return leaving in 6 days time.

My company were amazing, they knew the pressure I had been under and took no time to give me time off. After squash that night, I rang my best mate, Dean, to tell him.

Image from amazon.com

Dean and I have what we call a 'Friday call' where I call Dean (most of the time) every Friday to catchup. It was a New Year's resolution I made to catch up with my dad, brother and Dean some years after mum died. If I miss the call for whatever reason then inevitably I get a call on Saturday asking if I am okay from the person I have missed. I have only missed maybe 5 calls in over 7 years of doing this.

So in my catchup with Dean, I had cool news ... South Africa. It turned out that Dean had been shopping for me and said he would send me two books - 'What Color is my Parachute' (2008) and the associated 'workbook'. He suggested I read the book and complete the workbook as it would help me to 'find my passion in life' ... it was one of the most amazing gifts I have ever been given.

In between visiting Frikkie's work office in Joberg, playing golf (Vodacom World of Golf is a must) and visiting wildlife parks, I read the book and filled out the workbook.

At the end, it showed that my focus was on 'giving back' or 'helping others' - teaching, nursing, volunteer work. This was another 'moment' in finding my passion - but (again) I did not realise it at the time.

I came back and moved into Sales Operations.

Then Colleen came and mentioned something that would change my life ...

She was looking to do a Masters of Teaching as if she wanted to be a psychologist in a school then this would give her a better base ... I immediate knew that is what I wanted to do. (Finally, I had seen the signs - it only took a few!).

So here I am ... 3 subjects and 1 prac to go, 6 months from getting my Masters of Teaching (Primary). I have done the 2 year full-time course in 4.5 years, while working full time. My firm have been incredibly supportive.

What now? I have found what I need to do - teaching, I have the course nearly complete, I have been in the same company for over 22 years ... How do I take the leap of faith and get into teaching? ... there is a story for next time ...

Footnote: So how did Colleen go in the Masters of Teaching? Did she beat me? (not that we were competing!). For the first year of our degree, we could not be separated in marks. We did two subjects per semester and each time we scored exactly the same marks when you added both subject together. It was not to keep going ... in our 3rd semester studying together, Colleen started to beat me. Luckily she applied for a Masters of Clinical Psychology and out of 800 applicants and 25 places, she got accepted! An amazing achievement not only to get in, but to leave me in peace with my teaching! She has helped me so much to settle into study. she taught me how to manage a course by correspondence - but that is a topic for another blog.

Four weddings and a funeral

I was married, aged 25, in 1994. In September of that year I had 4 weddings and a funeral. My wedding was on the 10th, two friends were the following Saturdays, and a cousin of my wife was the final wedding. My Mum was put to rest on the 20th September. Strangely enough 1994 is the same year that the movie came out.

My Mum had been sick for the previous year with pancreatic cancer. It is very aggressive and I was told at the time that it was one of the top three and worse than a brain tumor. At the time that Mum was sick I was living with my girlfriend, Colleen, in 5 bedroom shared accommodation in Lane Cove, Sydney.

In April of that year we found out we were having a baby (there is a whole blog in that story of how not to react when your girlfriend tells you she is pregnant!). We went to my parents to tell them and at the end of the conversation my Mum asked us to get married. Well, you do not argue with your mother, let alone if she is dying ... so we set a date in October 1994.

Colleen and Brett weddingThe Garrison Church, Millers Point, Sydney, Australia

A month later and my Mum asked us to move the date forward as she did not feel she would live to October ... looking back on this now it still amazes me that she made the day and the power of the mind to get to a key date when you set your heart on it.

Saturday September 10th, 1994, 10:15am*. The day is scattered clouds (photographer = happy) in Sydney and we are getting married at the Garrison Church - one of the oldest churches in Australia.

A wonderful day, beautiful ceremony, friends and family. All of our photos look great and people are happy and smiling to celebrate the day. But the photos are not complete, there is something missing, Mum is not there. She was in a coma on the day and despite having an ambulance booked in case we could get her there, she was simply too sick.

Brett and Colleen Murphy, wedding day

On Monday, Mum woke up from the coma. The doctors told us that this should not have been possible, she was on so much morphine that she should sleep until she passed away ... but she woke.

She called for Dad, myself and Colleen and my brother. She told Colleen and I that she had seen the video of our wedding and that it was beautiful. She told me that I had Colleen and to look after her and the baby.

Colleen and I were due to go on our honeymoon ... we cancelled it. Instead we did day trips so we could stay close to Mum.

Thursday, 15th September. We were driving on our way to the Three Sisters in Katoomba with my new father-in-law, David. I was not comfortable and as soon as we got there I asked that we turn around. A quick toilet break and we were on our way back. We were an hour out of Sydney.

20 minutes out of Sydney I was driving and heard an ambulance. I could not see it and asked if Colleen or David could - they did not see or hear one. Two minutes later there was a call on my car phone (too long ago for a mobile phone!) ... it was Adrian, the priest at Mum's hospital. Mum had died peacefully in her sleep and we could come over and see her if we wished.

We dropped off David as we wanted to see Mum together. We arrived to my dad and brother already there. She was finally at rest.

Luke Murphy was born on the 10th December 1994, 3 months after Mum died. Mum had passed but Luke was born ... and there were two more grandchildren to come. Mum would be very proud, her grandkids are beautiful with great hearts. They have some of her attributes - talkative, fun, driven, stubborn, lots of hair ... but not short ... Mum was just over 5 foot.

September 1994 was amazing and heartbreaking ... tears of joy and sorrow. I have personally come a long way. I thought I was over the grief of my Mum's death ... but that is not the full story. In February 2013, I lost another. It has been so hard. I honestly thought I would be good at this now - for goodness sake, I got through my Mum's death, didn't I?! It is not the case. This death has led me to a greater understanding not just of grief but of myself, my family, my work and my friends ... so this story next time.

This blog has been released on our 19th Wedding anniversary - 10th September 2013. To my wife, Colleen, I simply love you. To my kids - Luke, Sean and Aislinn - who never met their grandmother, you would have loved her - she was cheeky, a teacher, and she loved among all things, her family and cats.

In memory of Robin Murphy
4th March 1942 - 15th September 1994

* We arranged our wedding for 10:15am as Mum was better in the mornings than the afternoon. If she was to get there, then it was more likely in the morning.