What will survive of us is love

Losing a precious friend

My dear friend Pru died on 15 August. She was diagnosed with MND two and a half years ago and dealt with this cruel disease bravely with positivity, grace and humour. She was 68 years old.

My sister, Shauna, and I have lost a treasured friend who has been a part of our lives since childhood. I’m devastated. Losing a long-term friend is like losing a part of yourself. All those shared memories. You wonder if you will ever feel whole again.

A photo of me and Pru taken in Hobart a few years ago.

When I first met Pru she was Shauna’s best buddy at Newport Primary School. She frequently came to stay at our place on the weekends and I remember her arriving in short skirts and long white socks. I think her mum, Patsy, was aspiring for a preppy look for her beautiful daughter — so very different to Pru’s style in the years to come. I remember the big spikey hairdos of Pru’s inner city years, the bohemian art teacher outfits, the repurposed gardening/climate change activist attire, and always the scent of her patchouli oil.

I didn’t spend much time with Pru when she first came to stay with Shauna at our family home. Being older than those two who were still playing in the cubby house and with dolls, I thought I was way beyond all that. When I was 15 and sent overseas to live in New Zealand with an aunt and uncle for a while, Dad sent me letters with cartoons he drew of all the family back home. His drawings were complete with glued-on pieces of each family member’s hair and also included hair snippets from Doris (our dog) and Shauna’s weekend guest, Pru.

Fast forward eight or so years and I’ve finally parted from my first boyfriend and have fallen for Nigel who lives in a fabulous rented waterside shack at Palm Beach with Pru and her boyfriend Peter. I move in to join them. We are all students. Pru is going to art school and the rest of us to university. Nigel and Peter work nights waiting tables at Barrenjoey House and Pru and I get reacquainted over many nights drinking bottles of red wine from Nigel’s cellar. We laugh ourselves silly and try to sober up before the workers return home. The enduring relationship from this household (that we dub ‘Villa Amore’) is the wonderful friendship forged between me and Pru.

I have many fond memories of times spent with Pru at other houses dotted around the Peninsula. I remember playing Scrabble while drinking gin and tonics, and listening to Joan Armatrading and Nina Simone in a place overlooking the water along the last bends into the straight at Palm Beach. We played Scrabble together for years. Having a joint during a game was always a mistake.

I also remember the infamous kayak incident when Pru and I took off on Pittwater one afternoon to ‘paddle to the other side and back’. When the wind blew up we had to be rescued by a motor-boat crew of dentists. I was hauled up on deck and Pru volunteered to stay in the water and be towed along holding onto a rope as well as the kayak. As the boat gained speed she was lifted out of the water and her one-piece swimming costume filled with water and then crumpled down around her waist. I think our rescuers were delighted with this result. Pru was not happy that she’d been the one left in the water but did manage to laugh about it later.

Pru took off and had many adventures during the years that followed — overseas trips and long stints living in sharehouses with other artists in the city. We always kept in touch. She had a wide circle and diversity of friends. That’s one of the things I admired about Pru — the way she validated and engaged with people from all walks of life. At Mosman High School where she was an art teacher, she had a wonderful rapport with her students. She was passionate about art, interested in her students’ welfare, and a great listener.

I was 31 when my daughter Lilli was born, and along with Mum and Shauna, Pru was at the Royal North Shore Hospital for the birth. She was there with a bottle of Rothschild champagne clinking around in her handbag when I was wheeled out from the delivery room. She was very supportive of me as a single mother and visited me often when Lilli was little. Like me, Pru later became a single mum to her gorgeous daughter Ruby. This was another thing we had in common.

Pru with my newborn daughter Lilli in 1985.

I moved from Sydney to Hobart when Lilli was four years old and Pru became a regular visitor to Tasmania. I loved having her come to stay. There is a small band of exiles from Sydney’s Northern Beaches living in Hobart and we all shared her around. It was always uplifting to be in Pru’s company and she was in hot demand.

I remember once when Pru was coming to stay with me in Hobart during the mid-1990s. ‘Oh, what fun we will have — drinking red wine and smoking too many ciggies,’ I thought.

‘I’ve given up smoking,’ Pru said when she arrived. ‘And I’ve bought you the book that helped me — Allen Carr’s The Easy Way to Give up Smoking’.

I was glum for a moment but then thought, ‘Well if Pru can do this, I can too.’ I read the book overnight and gave up smoking the next day. I’ve never had another cigarette since. Forever grateful for this!!

Visits to Sydney since I moved to Tasmania have always included time spent with Pru. I loved being in her gorgeous old home overlooking Pittwater, watching the boats sail by and the golden sunsets.

Watching the sunset from Pru’s living room two days before she died.

She had a magnificent garden, wild in parts, and a wonderful collection of art and interesting objects. In later years she was passionate about politics and supporting the Greens and local conservation programs. She was very concerned about saving the planet. It will be strange and sad to go back to Avalon now without Pru there.

Pru (and her adored Peppy) with Shauna, taken a few years ago in Avalon after a swim at the beach.

Losing a treasured long-term friend is hard. It’s the loss of a confidante and a witness to many of your life’s best and worst moments. Pru and I shared so many memories, tears and laughter — especially laughter. So many moments came alive when we were together.

Thank you so much darling Pru. xxx

What will survive of us is love. 
— Phillip Larkin

A large joyous painting I have by Pru — from her art school days.