Eleven years, and signing off

Here we are ... 11 years since I (Chris) was in the USA and Ben told me lightheartedly in an email that the little lump on his leg might be cancer. And here, in this blog, the rest of that history is told.

As Lindy said in an earlier post, we think that it is time to close the blog. However, it remains as testimony to Ben and also to the many people who have walked this road with us in lesser or greater ways. We thank you so much for your care.

Below are Ben's nephews. The older ones talk about Ben ... Recently Henry has recounted dreams of Ben. In one of Henry's dreams, Ben did 10 somersaults and God was laughing. We look forward to the day when the pain and sorrows fade away and we can all laugh along together.

Ben's four nephews: Ben and Will, Henry and Liam

Of course, signing off on this blog is not about "moving on"; it is not about forgetting Ben; it is not saying things are all better, or even that "time has healed us". Things will never be the same, in so many ways; and we have been changed. Such is life really; sooner or later and in greater or lesser degrees, it throws us curved balls.

So, to use the old (Scottish) phrase, "we'll meet you in the morning Ben".

Until then, we send our deep gratitude to all who have shared the journey so far with us. We send our wishes that somehow this blog will have enriched your life.

Chris and Lindy

The boys at Los Cocos, Argentina, Jan. 2000. Ben with Matt, Tim, Andy, Pete.

In Memory of Edward (Ned) Isham 19/05/2012-29/03/2019

From 6/10/2014: The Leukaemia Foundation’s Light the Night events happen in states around Australia every year. Shine a gold lantern to remember a loved one, a white lantern to reflect on your life with blood cancer, or a blue lantern to show support. Emily has a white lantern for her small son Ned, who is undergoing treatment for leukaemia and Tim carries a gold lantern to remember Ben.


Dear little boy who had a terribly tough journey, and still managed to make the world all the sweeter by being in it.

We know our times are in your hands Lord, but sometimes we find it all very hard to understand and bear.

And with a more typical Mulherin tone – we hope you're giving them plenty of trouble up there Ned. Have you bumped into Ben?

10-year memories of Ben-Jill's speech at Ben's anniversary party

Memories of Ben, Beno—so many…

Visiting the Mercy Maternity Hospital 24th August 1985.

Ben the small baby at Bible study each week, often fractious and unsettled.

Ben in Tasmania for our engagement picnic at Risdon Brook Dam.

Colin and I getting married and Ben running down the aisle of Xavier Chapel, in the middle of the ceremony—yelling out something to Colin.

And then it was Ben and Tim … in Adelaide; Ben running off the front verandah and doing a bomb in the 15-centimetre-high inflatable pool and saturating a giggling Tim.

Ben at Glenelg beach in Adelaide and baggy pants. 

A slightly older Ben on the 4-wheel motorbike at grandparents’ farm – including up the hill with Chris with a pink stack hat on. 

Then four Mulherin boys (with Lindy and Chris and 23 suitcases lined up at Tullamarine airport) were off to Argentina.

Our trip to Argentina to visit them; memories of Ben with a shaved head and a rat’s tail, who liked his Dad driving the Kombi through the flood waters, bravely directing Chris as we tried to get out of a landslide, and waving farewell to us from the observation deck at Tucuman airport.

Rollerblading in Mont Albert Primary School grounds, driving the Kombi as crazily as he always wanted his Dad to—always with energy and a c’mon! attitude.

But there was also the fella that was caring: listening, thoughtful, engaged and connected. The young boy trying to teach Tom to crawl, the fella in the middle seat in the back of our SAAB singing along to Savage Garden.

Ben the cat whisperer: (Zipper, our one and only cat, was rescued from our front garden by Ben), and Ben who swam across the Murray and coached a group of friends to go with him. Ben who spent a harvest with us – helping Colin, and almost finishing painting the outside of our house; in jeans with no arse, and eating four steaks off our BBQ at one meal; and who served himself such an enormous sized dessert at a restaurant in Albury, that he had to undo the button on his jeans in the middle of eating of it, much to the amusement of Tom and James.

And we remember the cancer too well –looking at magazines full of ski boats, with plans to buy one; the Big M milk and Krispy Kreme donuts, the pain management, the hair loss and shaved head. And videos in intensive care with brothers, friends and relatives visiting him and Ben watching the clock…his courage and caring throughout those short months.

Still miss you Ben.

Finally … I remember Ben and Tim joining us for a picnic down a dirt track on the banks of the Murray River. When it came time to leave, Ben was confident that he could find his way back to the highway and home. Now any of you who have spent time on the Murray River know about the labyrinthine-like tangle of tracks along the river – getting to the correct spot required balloons and ribbons tied on particular trees, and getting out was just as tricky.

But on that day the car roared off, as the journey south began – Colin, Tom, James and me – we stayed at the river as the white Holden drove away in a (big) cloud of dust; only to see it re-emerge a couple of minutes later; the driver (Ben) unable to make sense of the tangle of tracks. He laughed and then they headed off again – ‘First turn left Ben and you’re out!’

I figure you have sorted most of the tracks now Ben – looking forward to you showing us around.

Ben ... day 1.

It seems like it’s almost time to wrap up Ben’s blog … as long as people know that it doesn’t mean we’re ‘wrapping up’ Ben and consigning him to ever increasingly distant memories. We at least will always take him with us on our journeys. Always present. Always missed.

Before we finish though, we thought we’d post a couple of the speeches that were given at Ben’s 10-year CSB party at our place, on the December 8th 2018.

Here is Tim’s speech:

I remember two moments with Ben that made me want to disappear and pretend I didn’t know him. I’m sure there are countless I can’t remember.

The first one was when we were back in Australia in 2001, I was in year 9 and he was in year 10 and we caught the train to school with a whole bunch of others from school. One day we were all standing on the station, about halfway down the platform waiting for the train. As it approached, just before it passed us, Einstein decided it would be a good idea to land a big green spit on the windscreen of the train, right in front of the driver’s face. The timing was faultless. We got in the train but it didn’t go anywhere and after a couple of minutes the driver came into the carriage where we all were and said “Right, who spat?” We all stood there not daring to speak and holding back laughter, luckily the driver realised it was too hard to work out which of the uniformed teenager had done it, so he left and we got going again.

The second incident was a few months later. We were now back in Argentina and Ben and I had gone into town to buy something at a shop that sold everything. The shop had a few steep steps at the front door. As we left, a guy in his thirties was leaving with his partner. She was carrying a few broomsticks under her arm but as she walked down the steps they started falling down around her waist and her husband went to grab them and pulled them out. Once again, the Professor forgot to engage his reasonably solid brain. He thought the situation unfolding in front of us was funny for some reason so in English he said: “Go mate, you pull those brooms out of her ar …” The chance of him speaking English proficiently enough to understand Ben’s bogan retort was very low. Alas he turned around and said “Thanks, I will.”

Apart from criticism about what he was wearing on his feet, Ben wasn’t scared of much. So he was the person you wanted on your side or team. Surprisingly, he didn’t get into many fights, but he was always up for a bit of argy bargy. He famously chased after someone at Mallacoota who had smashed a window. Everyone else had let the guy go but Ben bolted after him yelling to those behind him “Come on, he’s not that big.” Probably a fair statement from the person who ended up banned from entering the New Year’s Eve arm wrestle comp because he always won.

Despite his fiery nature and the fact that he acted first and thought about the repercussions later, Ben was loyal to those he cared about. I’m sure many of you remember times when you were feeling lousy and Ben noticed and was there to comfort you, often with a firm arm around the shoulder rather than a lot of words. I know Liv remembers a time when she was on camp and visibly upset about her great aunt dying and Ben went over to her, away from the group and just sat with her to comfort her.

Another thing I admired about Ben was the fact that he didn’t really care what other people thought: his favourite bands were Savage Garden and the Backstreet boys for heaven’s sake!

We are sad that Ben isn’t around to be a feisty but protective uncle to our boys.