Love, Brendan

Love, Brendan

Dear Oupa,

I never did like Mondays. I write to you from San Francisco on a grey and cloudy night, as I reminisce about the full life you led and all of the great lessons I was able to learn vicariously from you.

I am quite confident that anyone who knew you would agree that now is a good time to let go, that you have experienced all that a long life could throw at a person. I disagree. It is not that I want you to continue feeling physical pain and emotional distress, rather that I wish to see you again and share a meal with you on a Friday evening like everything is OK. I have many things to tell you about, and many more things to ask your advice on. Now is too soon, though I do not think I would ever truly feel like the time was right.

Would my life have been the same if you did not achieve all that you did? You created a truly special organisation, one that your entire family benefited from in very material ways. I would be remiss to only think about our family though, there are countless people that got an education who might not have were it not for you. This is an achievement that outlasts any one life, it is a rippling effect that lasts for generations and impacts many lives for the better. This inspires me.

Thank you for being one of the few people in my life who I could look up to as an example of how to lead a fulfilling and rewarding life. I know that to achieve what you have accomplished is an extremely difficult task and one that may take me two lifetimes. You have raised the bar high enough so that if I land near the bar, I know I have led a life worth living.

You have taught me what is important and real in life. What to write off as a distraction and what to focus on. It is not what we do but rather why we do it that we must always remind ourselves of. Family, love, respect and continued progress are much more tangible and important than material possessions, fleeting interactions and social status. This is a lesson I will heed, one that I have seen pay dividends first hand.

Now I ask myself the question; where to from here? To move forward without you feels as foreign a concept as any. Although you are no longer of this earth, you are not gone. You are part of me and every other one of your children, grandchildren and great grandchildren… and there are many. With so many living on, it will be impossible to forget you. I know I will not.

Thank you for this final lesson.


I love you and I will miss you forever.

Brendan