Today we had the ‘stone-setting’ for my dear, departed brother. That’s when you put half a ton of granite on top of the grave to prevent ghosts. They say a few prayers, which I’m sure are very meaningful but I’m not big on praying, in case you were in any doubts. Then they let you speak. My lovely sister-in-law held it together… just, for some lovely and very heart-felt words which reduced people to tears, then I had a go before everyone put the tissues away. Whilst preventing my ‘helper’, Joey, from dismantling the lectern. So I thought, as is my nature, that I’d ‘share’.

Sad but Happy Sunday

Xxxx

There are people in this world who make a lot of noise, who create a lot of fuss and chaos, but get very little done. That was my role in the family dynamic, growing up.
Then there are those who are more quiet, more considered, less annoying, who can pretty much get anything and everything done.

That was Rich. I’ve said it before, but give Rich a ‘handbook’ and he could build a planet, start evolution, dismantle a car engine or construct a multi-channel music mixer for a rock band from scratch. I became an expert at holding handbooks, so he had both hands free.

So when anything went wrong, Rich was the go-to guy. And he loved it. He repaired, improved, re-bored and upgraded amplifiers and musical paraphernalia for all his mates. The constant stream. He never charged anything, he loved the challenge. And in his very quiet way, he loved helping people.

Which is a bit odd because if you asked him, he ‘didn’t like people’. Like Mr Spock, he found them ‘too illogical’ for his wonderfully scientific mind. It was why he left retail pharmacy and moved to hospitals, eventually running the pharmacy computer system at Barnet General. And yet that was his generalisation. Because people he met and got to know, he loved deeply. But again, in his own quiet way. I don’t think I earned a hug from him until I was about 50. He wasn’t openly demonstrative with his affections. Yet affectionate he definitely was.

He was also very stubborn in his ways. Which is why, when he met Diana, absolutely nothing changed. Because she allowed him to ‘just carry on being Rich’. But with a complete soul-mate and partner for life. Who gently, gradually, coaxed him into doing things outside of his comfort zone. Like taking holidays. Meeting people. Walking.

The only time they weren’t partners was when we played bridge. We took lessons together and decided, upon advice from many experienced others, that the best way of maintaining a happy and loving relationship is to NEVER be partners at a bridge table. So Melissa enjoyed years of Richard’s quiet, considered, polite and genteel play, whilst Diana, unfortunately for her, got the noisy partner.

Rich loved birds. I’d send him a photo from some distant country and he’d message back within seconds with the name, habitat, breeding patterns. I was happy with ‘the yellow one with the funny beak’, he insisted on proper names. He’d even identify them from recordings of their song. Even last week, in Canada, we sat looking at ‘white, swoopy ones’ and I thought, they probably have a name. But I’ll never know it now. And it’s those moments, those, ‘just ask Rich’ moments, which are instantaneously quite painful, and then mellow into the wonderful memories we have of my lovely brother. Of Di’s lovely, true-partner.