Claire Henkes - A Tribute — THE O'BRIEN CLAN

Claire Evelyn Henkes (nee O’Brien) left this world on Saturday 22 August 2015. She was my Aunty. I don’t believe anyone ever had a finer Aunty.

Across the five days after my Aunty Claire died, I wrote down my thoughts about her. I did it for two reasons.

Firstly, I wanted her 5 children – my cousins – to know just how much she’d meant to me and to others, If not at that early stage, then at least sometime later when the time to read what I’d written felt right for them.

And secondly, it helped me to deal with the grief of losing this amazing woman. We all cope with our grief in different ways. And writing about her just felt like something I needed to do.

So, this is my tribute to Aunty Claire.

I’ve added some pictures and updated information in square brackets and green text.

Rob Landsberry, June 2023

A Letter to the Henkes children - 27 August 2015

Dear Simon, Chris, Wendi, Steve and Sue

I’m not sure whether now is the right time for any of you to read what I’m going to write, but I really felt I wanted to put down a few thoughts about your Mum….my AC. Please feel free to tuck this note away for another time if you want to.

You know, we meet many people in our lives. Some pass through, and we never think of them again.

We might think of others from time to time and wonder “what ever happened to…”.

And outside of those, we have our regular group of family and friends who we see often, and some that we see only periodically, but with whom we have a connection that allows us to always pick up where we left off.

But beyond all of that, there’s a core group of people – a small group – who are much more than just a “part” of your life. They’re at the very centre of who you are. They’re embedded in your DNA. In your history. In your soul. And they’ve helped to make you who you are today – to make you, “you”.

For me AC is one of those people. One of those very few people.

I can’t remember exactly who christened Aunty Claire “AC”, or exactly when it happened. Somewhere in the deep recesses I believe that it may have been David, and it may have been during one of our many Avoca holidays. But that could be wrong – memory is a funny thing.

But for me, she’s pretty much always been “AC”. Of all the Aunts and Uncles, she was the cool one who, like some sort of pop idol, deserved a trendy nickname.

AC - it just worked.

You know, all of we O’Brien’s are truly blessed to have the most amazing extended family. And Kate, David and I are lucky to have had a childhood defined and bookended by a truly compassionate, gentle and giving mother at one end, and an eccentric, complex, funny and somewhat baffling father at the other end. All of that has given us so much.

But between our relatively small and immediate family, and our larger and extended O’Brien one, lies something quite unique. A family unit that says as much about who I am today as anything else does. That’s the family unit headed up by my Mum and AC, and which enveloped the 8 of us in a way that very few people are lucky enough to experience.

I’m calling it a “family unit” because to me, that’s what it was.

It’s interesting to reflect on that, particularly at a time when there’s so much debate about what makes a relationship and a family. For me, it’s a loving bond between people who share life’s experiences, laugh with one another, support one another through good times and bad, and who grow together. And when I think of Mum, AC and the 8 of us, I know this is what we all have.

Sure, time and distance mean that we don’t see one another as often as we used to, but the fact is that who we’ve become owes so much to this special and truly unique family unit.

I know that we both had Dads, but for different reasons they didn’t play the same pivotal roles during our formative years as our two Mums did. I don’t say that with any sense of blame at all. For me, my Dad also brought many amazingly important things into my life – both passed down through the DNA and taught through both positive and negative role modelling. No one has a perfect upbringing, but it’s often the imperfections that make it more interesting and rewarding.

But, let’s be honest, as is the case for you guys I’m sure, the paternal pathway we ended up on through the luck of our birth, was not always the easiest of roads to travel.

But, for as long as I can remember, we all had at least one incredibly important thing in common, and that was the strength of our two Mothers. Both put those difficulties aside to focus on making sure that we eight had the best of childhoods. I’m pretty sure that like me, you all think back with the fondest of memories to those times. But they’re more than just memories. They’re the foundations on which we’re all built – the common bedrock that we all share.

I know that the circumstances that brought you guys to Willoughby were far from ideal, but taking the silver lining approach, and even being just a wee bit selfish, it did bring this new family unit to a whole new level, and from it we all experienced so many amazing times that shaped us as we moved into adulthood.

[2023 update - Our two Willoughby houses shown below were just over 1.2 kilometres apart.]

One that just randomly popped into my head as I wrote this was 8 of us, including two adults, touring Canberra in AC’s Vauxhall Viva – how the hell did that work? Who knows, but AC made it so.

[2023 update - The left hand picture below is of a Vauxhall Viva. In 1969 eight of us travelled from Sydney to Canberra in a car identical to that. Of those eight seven are shown in the photo below with the eighth being Mum (Gwen) who I assume took the photo.

Those seven in the photo are Simon, Chris and David in the front row, with (from left to right) Wendi, Steve and me in the back, and AC far right. Next to her is Father Mark (Jack O’Brien’s son) who we met in Canberra.

There were no seatbelts - they didn’t become mandatory until 1971. And, given that we were in Canberra for several days, the luggage for the eight of us must have been crammed into the tiny boot somehow.

From memory, Simon travelled lying across the shelf below the back window, with the remaining five kids across the tiny back seat, and Mum and AC up front. The specs on the Viva say it could go from 0 to 100kph in 13.1 seconds, but I doubt they ever tested that under this sort of pressure.]

And one of the things that has stuck with me, perhaps more than any other from that time is the music. Your Mum, and through her, you guys were always a step ahead of we Landsberrys in the musical stakes. My Dad was all Mrs Mills piano, Dixieland and marches. Sure he was fantastic for a singalong around the piano – absolutely no denying that.

But your Mum was the cool AC. She played Sergio Mendes and the Brasil ‘66 for God’s sake. She introduced us to Hot August Night. She had a record player that was a piece of furniture – and you could stack records!!! Seriously, as much as that all opened the door to music for you guys, it did the same for me. And I was just hanging around the edges. You were lucky enough to live it all every day.

Some of the classic discs played loud and often at the Henkes family home

And what about that fantastic night we all went to Jesus Christ Superstar in the early 70’s. The UK recording of Superstar, with Deep Purple’s Ian Gillan as Jesus, was the first album I ever bought. And DAMMIT – I left all my albums at Newport when Maureen and I split up.

[As an updated aside to this in 2023, one public holiday Monday, maybe 4 years ago, Wendi, Steve, Leslie and I were in Canberra, and we were thinking we’d go out to Fyshwick to a quirky little shop someone had heard of. So much was closed that we thought maybe it wouldn’t be open. We “ummed and ahhed” about it, and it was Wendi who finally said “hey, let’s just go and see”.

When we got there, it had just opened and we wandered about for a while, and as we left, out of the corner of my eye I saw the top one inch of the cover of an album in a milk crate with a bunch of records in it. And BAM!! There it was – the very record I’d been looking for at every second-hand store I ever went into for over 15 years. It was a 49-year-old double album – and in pretty good nick I have to say. And I bought it for the princely sum of $2. I was super happy and spoke of nothing else on the drive back to the Southern Highlands. Oh how Leslie, Wendi and Steve enjoyed it!!

But here’s the thing. That reconnection to that seminal album was driven by the Henkes family again. It was Wendi who’d said “hey, let’s just go and see”. So, you’re all still a critical part of the musical part of my life.]

Meanwhile, back to the night in the early 70’s as we all headed off to the Capitol Theatre to see Superstar. For me that night was so special. I was in early High School and hadn’t been to any show like this before. It was edgy, and not at all popular with the Catholic hierarchy. I’m pretty sure AC arranged the night - you remember “theatre parties” back in the 70’s – when you could get discounted prices for a group booking?

It was the cool AC again, thumbing her nose at Catholic convention to some extent, though not dismissing it by any means. But also wanting to show a more progressive way of thinking. To make sure she was across both sides of an issue, and to open up something visually and musically exciting and new to her own family, and our special extended family unit.

I still listen to all this music now, and it never fails to take me back to those great times at your house. Christmas lunches, parties for anyone and everyone, gatherings for nothing special at all – just for family and fun.

But it doesn’t just take me back in the sense that I remember those fantastic times. It actually makes me feel like I’m there. It’s not just a memory – it’s almost like being transported back to that time in your heart and your mind.

How much would we all LOVE to do that. Hot August Night on the stereo. Sergio stacked up ready to go next. AC in the kitchen like a conductor directing her culinary orchestra as they brought to life her vision for the evening’s gastronomic delights. And then, maybe AC and Aunty Mavis doing a little post-dinner opera just to top it all off.

I thank the Lord that AC relented and published the Nasi Goreng recipe to us all. Of course, we have to pay our respects to John Strookman for introducing us all to the delights of this Dutch/Indonesian production. But your Mum picked up the Nasi baton and ran with it on John’s sad passing in 1986.

What fantastic nights they were – and not just for the food, though of course that was always excellent. But it was for the sense of community that the Nasi brought with it, as the kitchen became a hub of activity with all manner of people helping to bring this complex dish together. I will make this often in the future, and every time I do, it will bring back the best memories of your Mum and her gracious and unending hospitality.

[2023 update - Click here to read more about AC’s Nasi Goreng nights and to access the recipe.]

In fact, AC taught me about the value in being the most gracious of hosts. Something that lay a little dormant in for me for some years, but which I’m trying to emulate more and more as I grow older.

She had a way of connecting with people, that very few have. Do you remember a character called Simon The Likeable from Get Smart? He was a guy who would walk into a room and everyone, without exception, would just instantly take to him. Kaos agent Kruger said of him that “It always takes Simon the Likable a little bit longer to go someplace than the average person, because people stop him to shake his hand, embrace him, kiss him.”

Simon the Likeable

Claire the Lovable

Well AC was like that – of course the big difference is that Simon The Likeable used his likeability for evil purposes, whereas AC used hers for good. Well, mostly I guess. There was of course the time last year, when in her most “Claire The Likeable” manner she asked me to get her a “chocolate coated paddle pop”. We’d stopped for petrol on the way back from the Central Coast. We’d attended the funeral of AC’s long-time friend Neeta Mustard. And as you do after an emotional funeral, you get ice-cream.

So I go in and pay for the petrol and pick up two chocolate paddle pops – one for AC and one for Mum. I pass them to the ladies. AC takes one look and says, “But this isn’t chocolate coated”. I agree, and say “but it is free”. She says, “But I really wanted a chocolate coated one”. I tell AC that there’s no such thing as a chocolate coated paddle pop – I mean if there’s two things I know, that’s chocolate and ice cream. “Don’t be silly” she said, “of course there is. I’ve bought them at the supermarket plenty of times.”

I spent the rest of the trip back to Sydney researching the history of all things creamy, chocolaty and icy in Australia, and mumbling and grumbling to Leslie in the seat beside me.

“Perhaps you mean the Choc Wedge, AC” I offer up. “But that’s not a paddle pop”, says she, “I really wanted the chocolate coated paddle pop”. In my head I’m screaming – you mean the one that doesn’t exist!! The one that’s NEVER existed”. But I don’t.

I’m still a little bitter about this one. Let it go, Rob…let it go. After all, it’s only ice cream.

[2023 update – I’ve since done some serious research on the whole “chocolate coated paddle pop” thing, mainly because I didn’t want to besmirch AC’s reputation. You can click here for a list of all the paddle pop varieties – past and present. And while the “Caramel Choc Dip” is listed under retired, it’s been re-released. But it’s mostly caramel, with just a tip of chocolate dip. That can’t be it, can it? I even translated the Indonesian ones, just in case. Although I don’t remember AC ever swanning about in Bali. If you find this little sucker, please send me details.]

Meanwhile, back at the service station with Leslie, Mum and AC….

And, while I can’t actually remember this happening, as we drove off from the servo, I think AC may have added, “Oh you go this way, do you?”. I’m sure we’ve all had that one from time to time.

The great thing is that through all these things, you could laugh about it with AC. Well, I could anyway – I’m guessing there may have been occasions for you guys being much closer, when the laughter took a wee bit longer!

That story about Jesus Christ Superstar also reminds me of something else, and again I may have these two events connected incorrectly. But it seems to me that this was also the night that Uncle Frank rang to reconnect with the family after many years. What I am sure of is that, when he did reconnect, it was AC that he chose to ring. I think this speaks volumes. Firstly, he knew that she would be welcoming and forgiving – he was, after all, the prodigal son personified. And secondly, she was at the very hub of the O’Brien clan in so many ways.

In fact – and this may be just my blinkered view - when I think of the O’Brien’s, I tend to see Mum and AC as the dual Suns, around which the other O’Brien planets, comets and moons orbited. Like familial gravity, they drew the family together and kept it in its tight orbit.

If I think about family gatherings, as far as I can remember it was never Cyril visiting Helen on his own for example. Or Frank making a trip to stay with Mary. Gatherings, parties and occasions of all sorts were centred around our two Mothers. They had the hospitality gene in abundance and would happily fling open their doors to make anyone and everyone welcome. It wasn’t that the other Aunts and Uncles wouldn’t welcome us. Of course they would and they did. It was more that Mum and AC were so often the drivers for those sorts of occasions.

What about those times when they’d connect with some folk visiting Sydney for an event like Opera in the Park, and next thing there’s a dinner party for us all to meet them, as they settle in to spend a few days at one or other of their places. Can’t remember the last time I did that – maybe because there was no “last time”.

People were simply everything to AC, something she shared with my Mum.

Without doubt, despite AC having such strong connections, both family and friends, one of the most important relationships was the relationship with my Mum. Look, I’m sure that they annoyed one another from time to time, but you know, I reckon that 99.9% of the time there was nothing but love there. The strongest and best love.

I’ve had so many opportunities to see this. One particularly special time was when AC and Mum visited us when we were living in England in 1994. They came to stay at the small, minimally furnished house-ette we’d rented for 6 months. Sadly we only had one bed – in the main bedroom. So we said that they could have that bed, and we’d share the queen-sized blow-up mattress that we’d borrowed. “No way!” they both said. They were happy to share the blow up.

Well, I wasn’t happy about it, but they insisted and away they went that first night. So, it turns out there was a slow leak – the mattress, not the ladies – and by morning they were pretty much on the floor.

They had another few days or so with us, so I insisted that they take our bed the next night. Mum was kind of OK with this – she knows when I mean something seriously. But AC….well, not so much.

She simply said that there was no way they’d do this. So, I said OK. What about we put you up in a B&B just around the corner. Nah…she wouldn’t have that either. I felt I was losing ground with her – pretty sure you guys know what I mean. And then I had it!!! “OK, then we’ll go to the B&B, and you can have our bed.” Ah ha!!! Got her, I thought.

“Well, if you do that, we’re still going to sleep on the blow-up mattress.” This woman was pure genius when it came to getting her own way. It was a gift.

Same trip, different spot. An absolutely magical Cotswold village on a perfect English autumn day.

Lunch time approaches and I point out a great place that we’ve been to before. “Do they have Shepherd’s Pie?” asks AC. I wasn’t sure, so we checked and, alas no, they didn’t. “I really want Shepherd’s Pie.” So, guess what…..an hour goes by as we search every pub, café and restaurant.

It’s at the stage where I’m going to kill a shepherd, and make the freakin’ pie myself, when we finally find a place with the desperately sought after pastry. We tuck into our various lunches with gusto, as by now it’s 2:30. At the end of her Shepherd’s Pie AC puts down her napkin and says, “I probably should have had the chicken.”

That said, we did have an absolutely amazing two weeks with the ladies. Some of it at our place in Woburn Sands, and some of it travelling around Devon and Cornwall. Some fantastic memories and fun times.

Of course, this was just one of so many incredible trips AC did – many of them with my Mum as well.

As you know, we recently cleared Mum’s house, and part of that was finding the huge pile of photos and albums that Mum had. So many of them were filled with holiday snaps with your Mum. What a hoot of a time they had together!! Every photo tells a tale of happiness, fun and laughter.

Of course, there were some more embarrassing moments with the two of them. Many years ago I was at Mum’s place when AC was there and the two of them were watching some tele. I was doing something at the back table….then I heard the presenter talking about lesbians. I don’t know what the story was about. All I can remember is a discussion taking place between Mum and AC – and I’m not sure who said what – but it was along the lines of “I just don’t get it…I mean what do they actually DO with one another.”

Exit stage left, as Snagglepuss would say – I disappeared into the backyard in case I was called upon to explain.

On one of my visits to AC last year, when she was really ill in hospital, she was so bad that she could hardly breathe. I remember feeling devastated as she tried to talk to me, as she was literally gasping for breath between each word. I said “Don’t talk AC….I’ll talk to you.” She took a breath and said through gritted teeth as she struggled for air, “But I’m an O’Brien….I HAVE to talk.” And then there was that cheeky smile. You couldn’t make this stuff up.

It’s a bit like that great O’Brien joke: “So Gwen, Claire and Anne were all sitting in a room together silently”.

And then, just a few days later, lo and behold, she’d told the medicos that she’d had enough of all these ridiculous tubes and medicines – “none of it’s doing me any good”, said well-known specialist, Dr Claire.

She’d been moved to a new room, and when I saw her there, the first words she said as Mum and I walked in to see her were “Well, I’m off”. I thought wow, what a recovery, and thinking she was off to respite, I asked her where she was headed. “To heaven”, she said. I spotted her small bag all packed from where she’d moved rooms, and I said, “You know you can’t take that with you, don’t you?” She laughed until I thought she was going to end up back in intensive care.

Flashback to the late 80’s when I was working at a place called AdLogic. It was a start-up software development company, and like all of those, the hours were long. When we were there after hours, a few of us would get out the beers and we’d play this game. We’d call someone up, and then conference someone else into the call, and then we’d put it on speaker with the microphone muted and listen to the two parties try to figure out who called who, and what for.

We hooked up Pizza Hut and Dominos, the Carmelite Nuns and the Dominican Brothers, Coles and Woolies – basically any two people or organisations we thought would be a bit interesting. Then we’d listen as they tried to figure out who they were talking to and why. Sure it was childish, but it amused the hell out of us, in the same way that 6-year-old kids think it’s hilarious when you say the word “bum”.

A few people would hang up. Others would get angry, insisting that they had definitely not made the call….and getting mightily pissed off at the other party. Comedy gold, all of it.

Then one night, I suggested we hook my Mum up with AC. We dialled Mum, and then put her on hold while we quickly patched in AC. We hit the conference button, and both dial tones were humming along nicely. Off went the microphone and we waited.

Mum answered first, “Hello”. But all she could hear was another phone ringing at the other end. You could sense her wondering what was happening as she tentatively, and a little quizzically said “Hello?” again, but this time with the inflexion of someone who was just a wee bit bemused.

Then BAM.....AC answered. “Hello” she said. And Mum replied “Hello”. It was all going swimmingly so far as we waited to see what hilarity would ensue. “Hello” AC said again, and there was one more “Hello” from Mum. Then suddenly a whiff of familiarity came over the proceedings as AC said “Gwen? Is that you?”

“Yes it is…..is that you Claire?”.

“Yes. Well that’s good timing”, she said, “I was just about to call you”. And away they went into full AC/Gwennie chat mode. They really didn’t care who’d called who, or why. It was enough that they were connected…that’s all they needed. All they ever needed.

We just left them patched in together and quietly removed ourselves from the call.

Look, I’m guessing that things were not always champagne and roses with your Mum. We all have our moments, and I’m sure that AC was no exception. I’m going to say something that you guys may not even be aware of. Your Mum had a very strong will and liked to get her own way. You probably hadn’t noticed. She also had pretty strong opinions, and held onto them like there was no tomorrow. Even in the face of what appeared to be pretty rock solid evidence, she would hold more than firm. Again, something you may not have been aware of.

I remember one time talking to your Mum about violent crime – she was concerned that it was getting out of control in Australia. I mentioned that I’d read recently that the rate of murder per head of population in Australia was less now than it was in the early 1900’s. She looked at me for a few seconds and I thought she was taking that all in, and then she said, “that’s just rubbish”. I said, but it was in an article by an historian who was looking at long term trends in violent crime. She wasn’t at all impressed – “I don’t care what it was in, or who it was by, it’s just not true.” There’s just no arguing with that.

One thing’s for sure, you could always have the best of discussions with AC on pretty much anything. She was well read, inquisitive, and kept her finger on the political pulse. Were you ever there to watch my Dad and AC in a verbal tussle? My Dad was equally opinionated and loved nothing more than a battle of words and ideas, and AC was always a willing opponent.

Dad would often stir the pot with something along the lines of “You know Claire, in the end everyone does everything in life for one of two reasons – self gain or self satisfaction.” He loved to throw this grenade into an argument – particularly when he wasn’t faring too well. It was a red rag to a bull for a Catholic woman who’d been raised to believe that selflessness and good will to your fellow human travellers was what our God expected of us. And away the two of them would go, taking polar positions on a principle that was as rational as arguing over which Ocean was bigger – the Pacific or the Atlantic.

And there was a high degree of optimistic expectation in AC, perhaps Biblically founded in Matthew 7:7 “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”

She would get it in her mind that there was something specific that she needed for the house. Sure she could buy it new, but frankly it was way too expensive. She knew she could do better. Mere mortals such as you and I would “hope” that we could do better. But she “knew”. She would leave the house with a fixed idea about what she wanted, and what she wanted to pay for it.

Mum would often go with her and marvel at how AC seemed to be able to feel some sort of Star Wars like Force that would draw her to the very second-hand store or charity shop that had, not only the very item that she wanted, but the actual model as well. The price was good, but then AC would notice a small fault or blemish, and would work her magic on the helpless shop owner. They were like putty in the hands of Obi Wan Henkes as she would look them in the eye and say “Ah, but that’s not the price you want…I believe this is”. And they would of course part with said item for that “negotiated” price, AND carry it to her car, AND throw in a such-and-such that matched it perfectly….AND at no extra cost.

This wasn’t shopping. This was some form of black art. But all done with wit, charm and elegance. And I’ve been lucky enough to see her perform it. Pure magic. I’m sure that this had its embarrassing moments for you as kids, but you all reaped the rewards of a mother who somehow provided you with worldly goods that exceeded all mortal expectations, and which would have been out of reach for someone without her gifts.

A lot of people would call this luck, but if it was, then AC made her own luck. My Mum would often say of Claire that it was a case of “No hide, no Christmas Box”, which is sort of what I think Matthew was getting at with the whole “Ask and ye shall receive…” thing.

And now I have just one word for you that will instantly make you smile – Avoca.

See, I knew it. I don’t need to say much here, other than to say that the whole Avoca experience over so many years simply cemented your Mum’s position as my second Mum. What times those ladies gave us! What magic times. And all done on a budget that would make a Somali housewife throw up her hands in horror.

We ate like spoiled princes and princesses. The freshest of food, wrapped in doorstep thick slices of still warm cob loaves, followed up with an array of homemade biscuits and slices. A stream of visitors all day every day, packed in like sardines amongst the multi-coloured fibro walls. Laughter, card games, sand, sunburn, salve, salt, more food, more laughter.

And AC and Mum making it all happen for us with seemingly endless good will to everyone who joined us. How much do each of us have those experiences embedded deep in our psyches?

One of the saddest days I can remember as I grew up was the last day at Avoca for the year. Day 14. Relentlessly the same every year. It was always a sad day because we were leaving, but it was made doubly disappointing as we had to make sure we avoided the extra cleaning fee by leaving the whole place cleaner than a surgical ward. We all scrubbed and wiped and scrubbed again. As I got older, I even offered to pay the cleaning fee so we (I meant “I”) wouldn’t have to be involved in the whole process. “No” they’d both say, “even if you pay the fee, we’ll still clean the place. But you don’t have to do it…not if you don’t want to”. Damn that Catholic guilt and pass the Ajax.

Times were tight, but I don’t think that ever meant that we suffered.

I think back on how little our family had in terms of material things. And then I think how much harder that must have been for your Mum – she had to keep it all hanging together on the smell of an oily rag. But man, what she could wring from that rag.

I was talking with AC a few weeks ago about finally going through Dad’s 76 boxes of papers after almost 24 years [2023 update – I still haven’t quite finished!!]. I told her I’d found a bunch of documents about what she went through in the late 60’s and early 70’s – tough times, I said. But AC had a different take – she said “you know, I got so much help from your Mum and Dad. I wouldn’t have been able to get through it all without that.”

I’m not so sure. AC was resilient and resourceful. And completely committed to making sure she did the absolute best for her family that she was able to, even in the face of circumstances that would have defeated many people. I saw the effect it had on Maureen [my ex‑wife] who had to cope in very similar circumstances – a single Mum, with 5 young kids, a recalcitrant ex husband, and financially struggling. It eventually broke Maureen, as it would most women, and she had a nervous breakdown. But to your Mum’s credit, she somehow made it all work, and kept the most positive attitude through it all.

In AC’s later life, I was fortunate enough to spend a lot of time with her. And this last year or so, while it was the most difficult of AC’s life, it coincided with one in which I wasn’t working, and so I had much more time to spend with her. Whenever we could, if we were doing something with Mum, I’d try to see if AC could join us as well. This may sound a bit like “Rob the Suck” (as Wendi and Steve are prone to call me from time to time), but it was actually more like one of Dad’s “self-gain” motivated moments. I got so much out of seeing these two wonderful ladies together, and just watching them enjoying one another’s company and their lives to the maximum. It never failed to make me feel the real joy of life. How could it not??

[2023 update – The photos below show the “Robert Le Suc” wine that Wendi and Steve gave me for my birthday some years back. It was to “pay tribute” to my monumental “suckiness” when it came to Mum and AC. You’ll see on the back label that I’m lovingly referred to as “full bodied” with “witty overtones and hidden sarcastic elements”.]

I was also lucky to spend some private time with AC on the morning of the day she passed away. As you all know only too well, she was not herself that day by any means. At first, as I held her hand and listened to her laboured breathing, I was thinking that it was so sad that life comes down to this. Lying asleep, surrounded by those who love you, all waiting for that final moment to come.

Then another thought came to me. I know it might sound a little odd, but I started to think of AC as a cruise ship that was being retired at the end of its life.

Like that ship, AC had seen the world – some special parts of it many times.

She’d been the facilitator for all forms of entertainment and social occasions. She’d hosted too many dining experiences for too many people to be counted. Like all cruise ships, parts of her journey had been difficult, and some of it had not been easy financially. But the tough times were outweighed by the good times 50 to 1. 100 to 1. And beyond.

AC was a gracious, elegant cruise ship. Like the vessel the True Love in The Philadelphia Story with Katherine Hepburn, she was “yare” – she was classy, nimble and quick. She was “yare” in that Hepburn sense.

And at the end of its life, a cruise ship is not quite the same as it used to be. There’s some serious wear and tear…some of its just not repairable. To some, it looks like a shadow of its former glory and elegance.

But to those that knew it at its prime, who were lucky enough to have spent time in her company, they look at her and all they see is the vessel she once was. All they hear is the joyful voices of those who’ve enjoyed her company over too many years too count. They see what’s here in front of them as being the embodiment and evidence of a vessel that existed for love, for fun, for family and friends.

And I looked at AC lying there, and that’s how I saw her. Her body was worn out, but it was worn out from such a rich life of giving and sharing. And it held in it all the amazing memories and experiences that were shared by all of those who’ve been lucky enough to have spent time with her, and to have experienced her passion and her joy. I count myself incredibly lucky to have been one of those people.

I will miss my second Mum.

And when the angels finally picked AC up on Saturday, after her most difficult of years, and they headed off with her to heaven, I’m sure she said “Oh…you go this way, do you?”.

Written by Rob Landsberry, last updated 16 June 2023

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