I never knew Richard but I do know how very special he was to you. I remember sitting at your place there in Thornbury a number of times and you telling me all about him. I remember how pleased I was for you the night you told me you were going to marry Richard and go back to the UK.
A few years ago I came across an anonymous saying that is very special to me……I actually have it framed on the wall unit in my apartment. Perhaps it may have some meaning for you too, particularly at this incredibly sad and difficult time.
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take…………..but by the number of moments that take our breath away.”
I have no doubt that you and Richard shared many moments together that took your breath away. You will always have those memories.
My warmest thoughts
Pauline Bates
1 comment:
A tribute to a friend
Richard,
I want to pay you tribute by telling folks who shared part of your life, a little more about you that they may not have known. You were always so modest they probably did not realize how many talents you had. I like the photo of you on the blog site- looks like you are about to round Cape Horn and you look really happy.
Richard "Spook" Sporik and I go back together so far it's hard to know where to start telling you about this wonderful person.
Surviving our Jesuit school years, we failed the entrance exams to Oxford in spectacular fashion but had some fun on the way. Being served morning tea by "scouts" at Christchurch student lodgings was an eye-opener. While we followed different medical career paths we got together when we could to philosophize on life over bottles of Newcastle Brown Ale or share his love of blues music at a smoky club or pub.
His perennial curiosity led him into research and to become a globetrotter as a result of which he met Judy, his perfect partner.
Richard had a lovely funny and unconventional side to his character; whether it was drinking mead together on an icy beach at Lindisfarne; knee-deep in mud pushing his motorcycle up a hill in Hampshire; or cruising down the Kings Road, Chelsea in his white Cadillac convertible, he did things with his own inimitable style.
Richard was always one to try a new challenge. A man of many talents - he built a boat, rebuilt his motorcycles several times and built an aeroplane. I think they worked most of the time. His next projects would probably have been a hovercraft or a Chieftain tank but luckily his garage was too small. Judy told me he was a great cook but this talent he hid pretty well as a student.
I had only few opportunities to see him at work professionally; those few times I saw what I expected; a caring, compassionate and humble physician who loved his work and his patients. He wore his stethoscope in Australian style. - draped around his neck with a little teddy (koala) bear attached to it. Good for calming restless infants he said.
I was always amazed at his facility in writing research papers. I often thought he would settle down somewhere as an academic professor but I think it would have been his rather too conventional a thing for him to do.
One evening he phoned me to ask my professional opinion about his diagnosis, I was truly stunned. It was surreal and took a long time for me to take it in.
I always knew Richard as always positive and philosophical about life. Although clearly physically drained at times in the last few years, he always talked in positive terms during his illness and bought a sailing boat and racing bicycle as further outlet for his energies.
Richard, I was not there when you passed away, I wish I had been. I was convinced you would pull through again.
There is something symbolically positive about it all happening at Easter time. I know you would see it like that too. I am glad you have your freedom after such long battle with pain and discomfort.
All your loving family and friends who will all remember their own special version of you.
Thanks also for leaving me wonderful memories of our friendship.
Tone
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