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.
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.
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.
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.
