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Eulogy for my brother Michael Fountain, morte October 20 2003, aged 53
Autumn is here
From seed,
To sapling
Small tree,
Tall tree,
Now a fallen tree
Is over
Little known to us, his family, at this time in the 70’s,
a predator prowled the Fountain forest. Michael was being stalked by schizophrenia.
All mental illness is difficult to comprehend, but none less so than schizophrenia.
With Bill, his father, having abandoned his family, and particularly Michael
- emotionally from the early 60’s
and physically by court order
in 1968, - and John and Maureen having left home for fields afar, the burden
of coping, of understanding, of caring fell onto Verna, his mother , and
his younger sister, Renee. No one knew what was happening to Michael then.
We were all worried, but no diagnosis informed us, nor warned us. Eventually,
in the early 80’s, the paranoia and hallucinations overwhelmed Michael
and he ended up sedated and medicated, debated and rated, by the medical
establishment, as schizophrenic . Only Mom’s love and care kept Michael
out of institutions, medical and penal, or worse, the institutions of street
life under the bridges of Vancouver , during that time in his twenties and
thirties. Maureen and Renee were home to help, but
Verna, Mom, bore the heaviest care burden.
Then in 1990 the double whammy. Osteoporosis, collapsing, breaking vertebrae, one after the other, annually, inexorably, until every bone in Michael’s spine was crushed, every nerve ending on every rib tortured. This once graceful, 6ft 2, athletic man, whose is pictured shooting baskets in the summer at Lord Byng, became the folded, hunchbacked , pain racked man so many of you know from the last few years.
Pain was a harsh master, a cruel dominatrix, for Michael. No whips and chains were necessary to gain his submission –a twist of a nerve here, some pressure on the spinal column there…that’s all it takes to sap
energy,
enthusiasm
spontaneity,
joy
And yet
And yet
We all knew and experienced those sparkling flashes of laughter,
the eyes alight, the impish grin, the wicked sense of humour…the flash
of genius and brilliance that Pain tried to hide from us. Because Michael would
break through. Every now and then, like
a patch of blue sky and a ray of sunshine on a rainy Vancouver day, Michael’s
spirit would burst out. Too little our hearts cry, not enough, we want
more. It was not to be, but we had some. Cherish those moments in your heart.
In the 1980’s I ran four marathons, training several
hundred kilometres per week, pushing my body harder and harder, getting strong
in the eyes of the outside world, and in my own eyes, or so I thought. But
real strength comes from within. When osteoporosis hit me over a decade ago;
when it took me 4 hours one day to turn over in bed, manoeuvre oh so carefully
without screaming in agony, crawl on hands and knees to the toilet to relieve
myself, then curl up in a foetal position on the bathroom floor, cramped,
trying to find just that right spot so the pain would be held at bay, tensed
in control, unable to relax for fear of more pain, regaining the energy to
crawl back to the bedroom……then I learned then what real strength
and real endurance is. Michael is the real marathon runner. I ran 4 in 4 years, Michael ran a marathon every
day climbing in and out of bed, navigating up and down the stairs, walking
half a block. That’s real
strength training. I once heard a triathelete , an Hawaii Ironman winner, say that the physical element of
endurance training is only a small part of it – to ride across the
wind swept, volcanic scarred landscape of Hawaii’s western shores for
hours on end one needs real mental discipline. Well Michael had that mental
discipline, like no other endurance athlete ever had or ever will. Celebrate
that strength of Michael.
In a way I am the lucky one in remembering Michael. I lived in another country for the last 30 years. So most of my memories of Michael are of the good years, as brothers, growing up in Vancouver. Michael was a great brother. Lots of brothers seem to be aggressive towards one another and fight…but we didn’t.
Besides, he was bigger than me in the teenage years and I didn’t want to get the shit kicked out of me by my younger brother – most humiliating.
One of my favourite memories was a summer in the early 60’s
when both of us were at high school. We’d walk down to Byng with our
basketball and play 21 , practise baseline jump shots, and play 2-on-2 halfcourt
or sometimes get enough other kids to play full court : day after day after
day. It was fun then, long hot summers, lazy days, keeping teenage boredom
at bay, with Michael. Celebrate boyhood youth with Michael.
Michael fell in love with my ex wife’s best friend.
It didn’t eventuate into a serious relationship, but he had a real
crush on her. In fact I think he had a real crush on my ex wife Sharon. The
worst part was he was so good looking that Sharon told me just recently when
I spoke to her of Michael’s death that she had
a crush on him. I’ve been hearing a lot about well kept family secrets
these last few days –I hope I don’t hear any more secrets in
THIS direction!.
But its not surprising. Besides being just a healthy hunk
of a guy, he had one of the cheeriest dispositions ever. Some of the photos
you see reveal the sparkle in his eyes, the laughter in his face. As a former
high school friend who recently visited just said – he had a great “sunny disposition” . That’s
what she remembered him for. It was a girl of course…who also had a
crush on him. Michael never believed that about himself, that women found
him very attractive … but it was true. He
was a cheery good looking guy. Adieu to your good looks and sparkling smile Michael...
Michael had two friendships through his adolescent years
that were simply amazing to me. Jim Rattenbury and Glenn Lloyd. I never had
friends like that. They seemed to laugh and laugh, and play and enjoy one
another’s company so much, so often. I guess there was something lonely
in me that got touched there, because I envied Michael those two friendships
with Glenn and Jim. Adieu to good friendships Michael...
Michael loved deeply and intensely. Many of you will be
aware of the terrible dysfunctions in the Fountain family associated with
my dad Bill throughout the 60’s. I hated my father for decades, real
hate, ….. for what he did do to, and didn’t do for, my mother, my younger brother, and my
sisters. It took me a long time to get over my anger towards him, anger that
was there till the day he died last year. But Michael somehow found it in
his heart to love the man, to find him out after he left in 1968, to spend
time with him, to try to understand without carrying all the baggage of the
past. Love and forgiveness, are hard to give, when you’ve been hurt.
Michael found the strength and courage to love, and to forgive, although
he himself had been very hurt. Adieu your love and forgiveness Michael.
But Michael saved the depth of his love for one special
woman who helped and nurtured him through his whole life. No pain, no hallucination,
no depression could break the bond he made with Mom. His devotion to and
love for her was simply unbounded. You saved his life Mom so many times,
and he knew it. Yes there were words, and yes, anger sometimes….and
frustration…but nothing could touch his love and respect for
you. You gave one another affection and love and companionship through some
very difficult times, from childbirth, through youth, right up until death.
Adieu Michael’s love for Mom.
My daughter Rebecca, now 30, only knew Michael through the autumn years, of his life. She
never knew him in Spring. I sent her the photo of Michael doing the basketball layup, just yesterday. She
wrote back “it is so beautiful to see him free and doing what he loves…I
know in my heart he is free now” Mom, and others gathered here today, whatever your spiritual convictions,
please celebrate and affirm that thought in your heart; he is free now .
In fiordland in the south west of New Zealand, mighty mountains
rise out of the water –Mitre peak , higher than grouse mountain , rises
5000 feet straight up out of the ocean depths
The steep mountains surrounding the fjords are rich in native
forest, verdant green, lush….
Michael would have loved this pristine wilderness
Every now and then on the hill side there is a granite slash,
cold grey, reaching up high, streaking down, down to the waters edge…
You see, the giant trees
in this forest have no deep roots –the forest is a superstructure resting on a system of intertwined
roots, and forest debris, only a few feet thick, on a surface of cold sheer
granite – Sometimes when one tree falls it brings down all the others
below it
Michael’s tree has fallen, but others in the Fountain
forest still stand. One in particular, a matriarch of a tree, stands, above
Michael’s fallen trunk and branches, grieving for his death
She is most vulnerable, and the other trees in the forest
need to stand strong, roots intertwined, bearing
together, with her, the weight
of their fallen brother, the fallen son
New young trees are coming along Mom …great grandchildren , seedlings , kalvin and lola…
Springtime follows winter.
Michael would wish it so too.
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