When news first broke that Grandad’s body was starting to shut down and we were to say our goodbyes, I thought of Dad and wondered ‘how many coffins was he set to carry during his lifetime?’ My parents had been together since high school, and Grandad, although stubborn at the best of times, had welcomed Dad into the family from the very start. Although I do recall Mum telling me, Dad never asked Grandad’s permission for her hand in marriage, ‘because he might say no!’
I should have known when Mum didn’t answer her phone that morning, and when it was Dad who returned the call that something wasn’t right – I tried to put it to the back of mind when answering the call – but there it was.
Dad explained that some of the other family members were coming across to visit one final time, but the choice was mine and whatever that was would be respected. He said everyone was very sad and that Grandad was in a bad way, so he understood if we decided not to come across. Thankfully Charlie and I had visited only a fortnight ago as we knew time was sparce and I would have hated to visit while in palliative care – this way he was home and it was just that, a visit – not goodbye.
If I’m being honest, I was scared to say goodbye, there had been so many goodbyes. No, I wanted to remember him as Grandad – not him in a hospital bed. I was the same when Grandpa passed too, I only have fond memories of him, not the sad ones as he passed away. Still, I almost felt guilty for deciding not to go and I spent the day checking my phone for updates – I wanted to be with my family. But I also didn’t want to burden them with the presence of Charlie either – no, we were best to stay put for now and would visit on Tuesday as planned.
For now, we wait . . . . I did send a message through to Grandma stating ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t be with you as grandad makes his last road trip – but I know of two angel babies who will be waiting in line for a first hold and a number of four-legged friends who will lead him on his way. We love you both dearly, love Maddy, Dave and Charlie.’
I was just a bit lost really . . .
On Friday July 11, 2025 – the 12-month anniversary of little Harry’s death – my phone rang. I didn’t need to answer it to know – Grandad had passed.
We were lucky really, we all had so many memories with the beautiful man that he was and we all would live on his legacy. The silly old bugger had held on for several more days after the original call to say that he had been moved into palliative care, so despite my original decision, I did make the drive across to say goodbye. He was sleeping mainly, but we sat peacefully while I held his hand, which again I will cherish and I will be forever thankful for – he was just always there.
I dug out an old memory we shared together of the two of us dancing together at my debutant ball. I had originally held the video camera, filming footage of everyone having a good time, before Grandad, who was dancing with Grandma, spotted me and made his way over to me. He grabbed the camera out of my hands and took me for a dance, Dad taking over and filming the beautiful moment. This footage I shared when announcing his passing to the outside world. Grandma asking me to put words together for the announcement – I was honoured!
Francis Reginald ‘Reg’ Bale –
Your life is something we cherish, for you lived it alongside each and every one of us.
You taught us to believe in ourselves by always showing compassion for our own life decisions and showing up when we needed you the most.
No occasion was ever missed, a Christmas gathering, a milestone birthday, a debutant ball or a wedding was made top priority and no story ever went untold.
Your home was always welcoming, provided we didn’t sit at the head of the dining room table, take a short-cut through the sheds or annoy the dog. You kept your hands busy, using woodwork to build each grandchild a gift for the home, and in turn you were their first point of call for a tricky project.
We will continue to grow the legacy that you created by showing kindness to all with a cheeky eye roll. Forever in our hearts – our son, brother, friend, husband, father and grandfather.
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Exactly one week later, we all gathered to say a final goodbye at the NJ Todd Funeral Directors in Benalla. It’s a new facility, close to the cemetery and my first time entering the building. Dave and I agreed that we would try with Charlie, however we were to remove him if he were to act up during the service – he lasted all of five minutes, but we tried. The celebrant introduced the family and welcomed the granddaughters up to each light a candle. Alysha stayed with me while I fought with the lighter and as Dave had Charlie, she offered to sit with me, but I was ok. And I was, until I sat down and the tears started to flow. My cousin put her arm around me, but Alysha heard me and moved back a row to comfort her blubbering little sister that had tried to stay strong. I feel it was actually the first time I had cried, of-course I had been sad and teary but not a full cry as I was wrapped up in all the memories I had shared with Grandad – we were lucky really. But alas, I had dropped the ball and I needed to get my shit together. I had lit the candle, there was nothing else for me to do but be precent. A few deep breaths and we were there, just in time for the eulogy to be read. A touching segment to the hard-working, family man he was and the life he created during the early 90s and the move to Invergordon, where he worked on the hundreds of acres of orchards planted surrounding his land. Somehow, my sister and cousins took to the microphone themselves, sharing stories about Grandad and how his home was always a playground, with paddocks to run, hide and explore, cubbies, animals, tractors and so much more.
For me, this would be the first time I had seen a lot of my family since losing Louis, and although we hadn’t officially announced it, the first time seeing me pregnant with our third child.
We made our way out to the cemetery where we all placed a single native stem upon the grave – Charlie included. I made a plan to return on my own the following day, I needed peace to make my peace. It would also give me a chance to visit the baby section, to which Ebony knew of a little one buried. But before that I needed to get through the wake and dinner at the pub that night. I was exhausted, overwhelmed and hungry. Luckily the mood was lighter back at the funeral home and people were able to chat freely and enjoy a laugh or two.
Dave and Charlie headed for home as things started to wind down and I caught a lift back to Mum and Dad’s where I stripped my belly out and put my feet up before heading to The Royal for dinner.
Again, the mood was lighter than before, the kids played and the adults caught up on life as it was and memories of the old days – we were able to fill in a few gaps between the cousins and stories from both Invergordon and Benalla. The conversations flowed as they always had – it was easy and I felt as I belonged again. But I was still exhausted and after we hugged everyone goodbye, I passed out for the night in my childhood bedroom.
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The day following Grandad’s funeral I made my way back out to the Benalla Cemetery. First, I stopped by our childhood neighbour June’s grave and finally placed a ‘Cherished Teddy’ called ‘You’re The Iris Of My Eye.’ Her favourite flower was the Iris so this one seemed perfect. I then made my way across to Grandad in the lawn and found the peace I had longed for the day before.
Following this, I made my way down the side of the cemetery which would lead me to the baby section in the front corner. But before I reached there, I felt a pull as I came to the end of the row and as I looked up, I saw the little baby who Ebony had been looking for the day before. He wasn’t in the baby section and I doubt any of us would have found him if not for that day, but there he was, surrounded by beautiful blue figurines and butterflies. Eventually I made my way towards the front of the cemetery, the baby section was a lot bigger than any I had seen previously and it was both overwhelming and peaceful. I didn’t recognise any of the names but there were recent ones from 2024. I knew it was time to head home, but I made a vowel to return and continue to spread the love for all the baby’s taken too soon. For now, it was time to head home.
'Our Little Louis' 