The Tribune marks the passing of an era with the death on Wednesday of our former owner, Betty Howard. As I read Betty’s obituary, kindly written by Tony MacQuillan, (see page 6) I was touched by the account of the death of her first husband, Ken, at the age of 46. It was while the young journalist was on assignment in New Zealand in 1949 and Betty rushed home, arriving just in time.

It strikes me that so many people arrive ‘just in time’, the dying process must be malleable, at times, by the will of the person who is dying. A parent may ‘wait’ for a particular child; a person may wait for an estranged relative who makes peace at the last minute; a partner may defy the odds to celebrate a particular occasion, then slip away peacefully.

Of course there are many cases where waiting is impossible. But many people talk about those who do wait, and the stories are powerful.

Often people feel emotional when they recount such stories, and often I have an emotional response. It somehow speaks to the deepest connections we make with other people, that the bonds are strong enough to keep the inevitable at bay, if only for a short while.

Anyone who has read Seven Little Australians, by Ethel Turner, will remember the scene where the branch fell on Judy. While her favourite brother Pip ran 10 miles for help, Judy lay dying. The rest of her brothers and sisters came right to the Great Valley with her:

“They could feel the wind from the strange waters on their brows; but only she who was about to cross heard the low lapping of the waves.

Just as her feet touched the water there was a figure in the doorway.

‘Judy’, said a wild voice, and Pip brushed them aside and fell down beside her.

‘Judy, Judy, JUDY!’

The light flickered back in her eyes. She kissed him with pale lips once, twice; she gave him both hands, and her last smile.”

Over the years I have shed bucket loads of tears over Judy. There is something about that particular part of dying, the waiting to take leave of a loved one, that still brings tears to my eyes.

Christianity teaches that Jesus overcame death because of the strength of His love, and in some small way, it seems some of the strength of that love is mirrored in those who wait.

At one funeral I went to, the deceased man’s daughter described her rushed trip from Brisbane to Canberra; she had a mad dash in a taxi from the airport to the hospital. Her father acknowledged her and passed away about five minutes later.

I’ve spoken to a woman who effected a reconciliation between long-estranged branches of the family, when her mother, riddled with cancer, wouldn’t let go. Her mother had not spoken to the estranged relatives for years- on her death bed she spoke about them ‘all the time’. Almost as soon as the reconciliation had taken place, she let go.

On the other hand, people have told me how they sat by the bed of a dying loved one for a week, only to have them slip away while they were out of the room. I guess all the goodbyes had been said. Some people prefer to embark on the journey we must all take in the end, alone.

So we say goodbye to Betty Howard. Her contribution has been appreciated and she will be missed.

Vale Betty Howard.