We now come to the worst imaginable time of Nett’s life (and mine) when we lost our beloved older son, Michael. We had absolutely no warning of what was about to unfold until we received a visit at our home from a man called Murali, a local representative of Michael’s ashram in Pondicherry. He told us that he had received a message that Michael had fallen ill with kidney failure and was receiving treatment in a so-called “nursing home” (an adjunct to the main hospital in Pondicherry).
Most of what follows in this chapter is taken from a website that I later developed called Michael’s Story. I will say more about this website later on. In the meantime here is what I wrote at the time:
On Wednesday 30 October, Murali called in at Michael’s parents’ home. From this moment on they were to be plucked from idyllic early retirement into a living nightmare. Murali advised what he knew and provided a phone number to contact Dr Ananda at the ashram. Michael’s mother, Annette, called him, and also the senior doctor at the nursing home. She was asked to consent to dialysis treatment for Michael, which she did immediately, and also advised to come over as quickly as possible. It was decided that she, rather than Chris, Michael’s father, should be the one to make the trip as Chris is hearing impaired and has great difficulty with foreign accents. Meenakshi, the head of Michael’s Ashram, phoned that evening to confirm transport and hotel arrangements in Pondicherry. Michael, in the meantime, was that night transferred from the nursing home to the main JIPMER hospital.
Since I wasn’t with Nett from this point on, the description of the events that follow come from what she told me later.
On Thursday 31 October, Annette flew out of Sydney and arrived at Chennai late in the evening. She was met at the airport by Dr Nalini, a Spanish woman doctor who taught at the ashram. She had more reassuring news during the three hour taxi ride to Pondicherry: Michael had undergone dialysis and had been administered with broad spectrum antibiotics and was improving. She also said that blood tests indicated that his kidneys had been failing for some time. Annette was installed in a hotel for the night as it was too late to go to the hospital.
On Friday 1 November, Meenakshi and Nalini called for Annette in the morning and took her to the hospital. Annette’s vivid memory of her first sight of Michael was the pure joy and love that lit up his face when he saw her. He was cheerful and talkative. The improvement in his condition seemed to be continuing as some kidney function was now restored. However, he was extremely weak and his mind wandered occasionally. They talked for several hours. Michael chatted about the ashram, his adventures since he had left Australia, and his plans to go on to England after the course. He was confident of being up and about within a few days and looked forward to showing his mother around the ashram and the town. He worried about missing too much of his course, but Meenakshi reassured him that he could resume at any time. Annette’s relief was enormous, her only concern being the appalling standards of hygiene and infection control that prevailed in the hospital. She wanted to get him out as soon as possible to have him recuperate in Australia, though Michael felt that this was unnecessary; he could do that at the ashram. Eventually, the hours of talking took its toll on Michael, and he began to tire. He turned to Annette and said: “I think I’ll have a little sleep now, Mum.”
Nobody thought that these would be his last words.
Annette stayed with him while he slept, and watched as he was transferred, still sleeping, to the intensive care ward for more dialysis treatment. Feeling tired herself after her long flight she returned to the hotel and phoned Chris, who was by then frantic with anxiety. “He’s all right,” were her first words to him. The relief for both, after their earlier fears, was enormous.
Tragically, cruel fate now intervened to crush all hope. On her return to the hospital the next morning, Annette’s mood of optimism turned abruptly to horror as she found that Michael had suffered a major relapse. He was unconscious. His body had become infected with septicaemia and this was spreading with terrible swiftness through his major organs. In mounting dread, Annette immediately called for Chris and Peter to come over as quickly as possible. Powerful new antibiotics were administered to Michael with no apparent effect. Annette talked to him continuously and called out his name repeatedly, but he did not respond. He continued to deteriorate rapidly, and this time there was to be no recovery. With Annette beside him in the depths of utter despair, the end came quickly but peacefully at 7 am on Sunday 3 November. There was no pain or suffering. Since he never regained consciousness it seems certain that at no stage did he ever become aware of his impending fate.
Nett saw the monitor attached to Michael suddenly cease recording activity. She immediately called a nurse who fetched a doctor who quickly administered CPR. This brought two huge breaths from Michael, but then there was no more life despite the doctor’s best efforts. “He is gone,” he said. “You mean my son is dead?” cried Nett. The doctor, not knowing what more to say, simply bowed his head and walked away.
Nett climbed onto the bed beside Michael and cradled his head, weeping. Eventually she was asked to move by a nurse so that his body could be prepared for removal.
Continuing from the Michael’s Story website:
Meenakshi and Nalini arrived some time later to find their worst fears realised. Incredibly, the ward staff then expected Annette to take Michael’s body away with her. Her nightmare continued as she had to write out a pleading letter to arrogant hospital staff to have the body stored in the mortuary. Meenakshi was a tower of strength in helping Annette get through this impossible situation. After this, there was nothing more that she could do except return to the hotel, accompanied by Nalini, to await the arrival of Chris and Peter. They had received the dreaded news whilst still on their way to India. They finally reached the hotel together late that night to a tearful reunion with Annette The family were now faced with the impossibly difficult task of coming to terms with the unbelievable loss that had come upon them so suddenly, barely four days after first hearing of his illness. But at least they were now together, and Peter’s then partner Kristina joined them the next day.
Three days passed in an unreal blur of pain and grief before the family were able to fly back to Sydney. In that time, they viewed Michael’s body at the mortuary and visited his ashram.
They had more frustrating dealings with the hospital staff and had to arrange for the embalming and repatriation of Michael’s body. The fact that the next two days were major public holidays (celebrating the Diwali festival) and that the telephones were largely inoperative due to a strike made things even more difficult. Eventually, with continued support from the ashram, the Australian High Commission and Michael’s travel insurers, everything was done and the family were able to leave.
The morning after we returned home the three people (after myself) that Nett was closest to gathered in our home. They were her friend Sandra, her brother Robert and my sister Laura. We sat around the dining table and Nett held my hand and Sandra’s while she poured out her account of the terrible events of the past few days. The strong support of Peter and myself had sustained her in India and now the love and commitment of this support team, in the security of her own home, was to be crucial in helping to carry her forward.
Michael’s body arrived back in Australia and a celebration service (we would not call it a funeral) was held for him. Many people spoke on this occasion, including Nett who quoted several passages from Michael’s own copy of the Bhagavad-Gita. Michael’s body was cremated and his ashes placed in his bedroom at our home.
Peter and Krissy returned to their jobs in Taiwan and Nett and I joined them over that Christmas. We took the opportunity to call in at the “Full Love” school in Jui Fang, outside Taipei, where Michael had taught English for several months earlier that year. They were unaware of his death so this was an emotional occasion for them as well as for us.
We also had dinner in Taipei with a young woman called Michelle Yen who had been Michael’s girlfriend at Jui Fang.
We returned home to Australia. The process of grieving for Michael continued and Nett was haunted for a long time by memory flashbacks in her dreams of those terrible days in India. However, the world did not stand still for us and we were forced into many activities which did at least distract us.
I set about creating a memorial website for Michael. It was built around the hundreds of emails that he had sent during his 16 month journey across Asia. Fortunately I was able to access his email account and he seemed to have deleted few, if any, of these emails from his inbox. There were also over a thousand magnificent photographs from his travels that he had sent home. I have used many extracts from this website in this chapter. The website was originally written using Yahoo Sitebuilder which was a crude website tool by today’s standards. The original site has now been removed. I have converted it to a WordPress blog similar to the one you’re reading now. Here is the link to the Michael’s Story website as it is now.
Meanwhile Nett’s Pop had to be moved from his home into the local retirement village in Culburra, and there were many trips that we had to make there to manage his affairs. Nett’s regular mornings at Mona Vale Beach resumed with Sandra and these were so important for her to begin the healing process. Seeking to understand more of Michael’s interests Nett also undertook (and passed) a Buddhism course at university (by external study, continuing her Arts degree). She resumed her work with AMES and also worked for one day a week in the head office of Amnesty International (for whom Michael had once been a charity collector).
In June Peter broke up with Krissy in Taiwan and returned home. One bright spot later that year was that Peter reconnected with Yvette and, to our great joy, they remained together. We resumed playing bridge and later on we took a week-long train holiday to Broken Hill.
Michael’s ashes remained in his bedroom for over a year, in fact for the whole of 2003, but we knew that he would not have wanted to remain there. In fact, we knew exactly where they should be taken and released. Michael had spoken much of his love for the Sri Ved Niketan ashram at Rishikesh in northern India on the banks of the River Ganges. He had stayed there soon after his initial arrival in India, and he had returned there after coming back from Taiwan. That was where we would take him.
Our story resumes from the Michael’s Story website:
In the latter part of January 2004, we (Michael’s mother, father and brother) made the long journey from Sydney, Australia to northern India. The most precious part of our baggage on this trip was Michael’s little orange daypack. It contained the ashes of our beloved son and brother. We were taking them to Rishikesh, the holy place on the Ganges which had such a special place in his heart. Our mission was to release his ashes to the Ganges, the huge river which is so central to the beliefs of many millions of people, not all of them Indians. There, we hoped, his spirit would finally be freed in the country and place he loved.
At Rishikesh we stayed at the Green Hotel, in the Swargashram district on the east bank of the river. Michael wrote about its “posh” Italian restaurant in his “Just Another Day in India” piece in August 2002. We ate there often.
On arrival in Rishikesh we were met by Ian and Kamu Canover, loving friends of Michael, and now of his family.
Ian and Kamu took us to the Sri Ved Niketan ashram, where Michael had stayed in the summers of 2001 and 2002 and which he had described as his “home away from home”. The ashram fronts on to the Ganges. Its red painted buildings and surrounding grassed courtyards, with a backdrop of steep, wooded hills, make a very serene and peaceful setting for those who come here to study yoga and meditate.
At the ashram we were met by Swamiji Dharmananda. He had been there during Michael’s first visit to this ashram in August 2001. He was also his teacher at a yoga course in Dehra Dun 12 months later.
It was at this course in Dehra Dun where Michael first met Ian and Kamu.
Michael’s description of Dharmananda is spot on: “. . . a saintly, giggly old swami who just radiates love and groovy vibes as he punishes my body in ways you cannot imagine. The best teacher I’ve seen in India”. He greeted us warmly and had fond memories of Michael. He was very moved by our mission and was eager to help us. He proposed a special Vedic “Fire and Food ceremony” at the ashram, after which we would then take his ashes to the Ganges. This proposal was gratefully accepted. Dharmananda would not hear of any payment for this service, saying that “this is for Michael”.
During this visit to the ashram we were granted an audience with the ashram’s head, the Guruji, then nearing 100 years of age.
We also met the Mataji who ran the ashram’s in-house services (accommodation, food, cleaning, etc). She also remembered Michael and she prepared a nice lunch for us all which Dharmananda served to us.
Resuming the narrative from the Michael’s Story website:
The next morning, with Ian and Kamu, we sought out the beach on the Ganges which both Genevieve and Jimmy, friends of Michael who were with him here at different times, had strongly suggested would be the perfect site to release his ashes. The beach was not hard to find, even though the river level was much lower than it had been during the two summers that Michael was here. It is just downstream from Swargashram and in front of a hill where we explored the beehive-like structures of an abandoned ashram. The Beatles once stayed here, and Michael took many photos of this place. Down on the beach there was a stony outcrop right alongside, where the flow of the river was strongest. Standing here we could feel the physical power and spiritual force of the Ganges as it roared past, pure, free and clean. This, we decided, would be the perfect launch site for Michael’s ashes.
At 10 am the next day, Sunday 25 January, the “Fire and Food Ceremony” was held at the ashram. The setting for this was an open stone structure in the middle of the ashram courtyard with a sunken fireplace in the middle. About 30 ashram guests also attended. The Guruji had asked to be present, which was a particular honour as we were told he rarely did so on such occasions, and he presided over the ceremony while the Swamiji performed it. An altar was set up with a picture of Michael over it and his smiling face looked on as the ceremony got under way. In his introduction Dharmananda described Michael as one the best students he had ever had. Proceedings started with bows of respect to the Guruji from all those present and the spreading of flower petals over Michael’s picture on the altar. This was followed by long chants in the Sanskrit tongue that Michael had spent so many years learning. Then all present walked twelve circuits around the fireplace, bowing to Michael’s picture on the altar on each lap, and then the feeding of the fire with food (dried coconut) took place while the Swamiji recited blessings. Sacred Hindu music was played in the background throughout. The whole effect was incredibly moving, an experience which left us emotionally drained, but one which will be permanently etched in our minds. We felt a very powerful sense that Michael was present, watching over us all. Ian Canover used Michael’s camera, which we had brought with us, to take photos of the ceremony.
Afterwards, with Ian and Kamu, we walked to the place we now think of as “Michael’s beach”. At the chosen launch site they stayed in the background while we opened the container holding his ashes. Then we slowly gave up his remains to the river. As each handful was released it was eagerly swept away downstream by Mother Ganga, as if there was no more time to be lost. Finally it was all done, and Michael was gone. We stood silently, arm in arm, watching as the river swept him round the next bend and onwards. In a few days he would pass through his beloved Varanasi one last time, then later he would leave the river and start his slow, endless journey around the oceans of the world. Michael’s spirit was finally free. Our feelings were of great sadness at losing the last physical remnants of his body, yet also of relief and freedom in having finally been able to let him go on his way.
Before leaving Rishikesh we made one last visit to the Ved Niketan ashram to pay our respects to Dharmananda. On this occasion he presented us with a copy of his book “Inner Yoga: Instructions from the Guru within”.
At our request he wrote for us an inscription inside this book. This is what he wrote:
We were extremely grateful to Dharmananda and also to Ian and Kamu for doing everything in their power to make our mission to Rishikesh as positive as possible.
We returned to Delhi. Yvette joined us there from London where she had been working. Together the four of us did some sightseeing. We visited the Taj Mahal in Agra and the city of Jaipur. From there Peter and Yvette left us to join Ian and Kamu for some touring of their own. All four of them would later come together again in England. Nett and I did some more touring around Rajasthan before returning to Delhi and flying home from there.
Michael’s 29th birthday passed during our trip home.
I want to conclude this chapter by discussing the belief that Nett and I had, and I still now have myself, that Michael may actually be out there in some form of afterlife. Nett and I based this, not just on wishful thinking, but on actual experiences of communications that appeared to come from some world out there. Nett had two such experiences, and I had several.
Nett’s first experience came as we were taking his ashes from where his body had been cremated. She was crying, then suddenly heard his unmistakeable voice in her head saying, with the tone of impatience that he had often used in life to his parents, “I’m all right, Mum, I’m all right.” That was all she heard from him but it gave us hope that perhaps he really was all right in his new place.
Her second experience came many years later when she was half-dozing in her lounge chair in our new home. His unmistakeable voice came again into her head: “Hi, Mum, it’s me.” By the time she woke up and realized who it was he was gone. He never returned to her after that.
For my part, Michael came to me in a number of very powerful dreams, far more vivid than my normal ones.
The first was of him starting to walk slowly away from a small group of his family and friends, including myself, up a short hill at nightfall. He was wearing a black cape and a black broad-rimmed hat. The hill was silhouetted by a strong light behind it. Michael reached the top. He paused, did not turn around, then slowly disappeared down the other side of the hill towards the light.
The second dream was of him being in a slow-moving tide of humanity in one of several wide thoroughfares, again in darkness, all surging and converging towards a brightly lit central arena where I understood that he would be processed in some way.
The third was of him alone in deep gloom on the planet Mars. He seemed to be engaged on some assignment which required him to work on the ground.
The fourth appearance was of him sitting on the kerb directly across the road from our previous home in bright sunlight. He was casually dressed and he was three times his normal size. He was smiling at me. The next day I inspected the spot where I’d seen him. I could find no evidence there of anything unusual.
The fifth dream was of him playing in a grassy paddock on a warm sunlit day with our two dogs, Steffi and Gabby. All of them looked up at me in warm welcome.
There were other fleeting, fragmentary appearances but I can remember few details of these.
All of these appearances to me occurred in the first few years after Michael’s death. There have been none since. Together with Nett’s experiences they gave us hope that he may be out there waiting for us in the next world. We were realistic enough, not being religious in any way, to know that our experiences proved nothing about any such afterlife. Indeed, we accepted that it was possible that these experiences could be figments of our over-wrought imaginations. Nevertheless we both wanted, and I still want, to believe that they were real.
Have I received any similar communications from Nett since she died? No I haven’t, none whatsoever.
Next Page: Picking up the Pieces
Nett 