His name was Elwin and he was one of the nicest people I have ever met in my life.
Elwin was Dutch and moved to
Brisbane not long after Andy and I. As I had lived in Amsterdam for a year when
I was 20, we shared a “Dutch connection” that meant I was always the lucky recipient
of three Dutch kisses whenever we met.
Just thinking of this wonderful
man brings tears to my eyes but it also makes me smile, he is one of the very few
people I know where I can say with conviction that he was truly happy. He
absolutely lived the dream of doing more of what makes us happy. Elwin loved
fast (red) motorbikes, skydiving and cats. He played soccer and samba drums. He
worked hard, had signed up for his first triathlon and loved to hang out with
his many friends. He was generous in every way and an absolute natural with the
kids in our group. One of my fondest memories is of how sweet he was with
Agatha, I would have loved to see him become a husband and a father; I know he
would have nailed it. |
| Agatha enjoys some toe-tickling fun with Uncle Elwin (left) |
Last year, when I was heavily
pregnant with Agatha, Andy would drive me home from my job in the city each
day. Perhaps three times in the first fortnight a man on a moped would pull up
at our window at the traffic lights and give it a little knock. We’d wind down
the windows and there would be a smiling Elwin on his way home. We’d manage a
brief chat before the lights changed and we were both swallowed by the traffic.
Ever since then, whenever we were in the car and saw someone riding a moped,
Andy and I would say “there’s Elwin” – even if the rider was clearly an elderly
woman – and maybe once or twice more we got it right and it was our friend. It
has become such a habit that I know we’ll do it again - only now with the knowledge
that it never will be Elwin again, it never can be, he has gone.
All of Elwin’s friends and of course his beloved family
feel his loss keenly; he was the sort of person you meet rarely – utterly good, extremely kind and completely devoid of
bitterness or malice. But not so good as to be no fun, he was blessed with cheekiness
and a great sense of humour; he smiled and laughed a lot. He threw himself into everything - sometimes literally as with skydiving - and enjoyed every minute of the ride, grinning all the way.
His was a short life but it was a
full life – a life well-lived. The sort of life I aspire to live and the reason
I created this blog. I don’t want to use my friend’s death as a “lesson” of
some sort but I can’t help but be inspired to want to do better. To seek out
every opportunity for joy, to eradicate the stuff that brings me down, to
embrace happiness and to try everything. I think Elwin left a little of that behind in everyone who was lucky enough to spend time with him.
I know that this is not the most
eloquent of eulogies; my emotions are pretty raw at the moment and my thoughts
are scattered. But I hope it does some justice to Elwin and how very special he
was.
I’ll miss you friend, go gently.
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