5 minute read
TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE DISCUSSED
In this blog, as I tell the stories of my ancestors, family members and other people from the pages of history, I will be broaching subjects that may be distressing. And so it is with this week’s story of my great Uncle Sydney Drew, my grandmother Connie’s second brother. Connie and Syd last saw each other in the late 1950s, then Syd suddenly ceased contact with her for reasons only known unto himself and I suspect Connie herself, although she could only speculate as to why years later to me. After being missing for close to 50 years from her life, Connie eventually learnt that Syd had died in 1988. It was a shocking discovery. In trying to understand how Syd’s life ended, I re-traced his last steps in recent times. I’ve done this numerous times with ancestors in an effort to gain a deeper understanding of their journeys and the people they were, but none has taken me so deep into a story than this one of Syd’s. It will be Syd’s 108th birthday on the 19th April, so I wanted to tell his story this month and show how I connected on a deeper level with his legacy.
In August 2018, almost exactly 30 years to the day my great Uncle Syd died, I took an emotional trip on the same ferry that Syd used to end his life. I often wondered what had driven him to decide his life was no longer worth living. Perhaps his health was deteriorating, or he was just tired of being alone; we will never know as he left no note, unlike his brother Jack who also ended his own life. I deliberately took the same journey Syd did that August night because I wanted to get into his headspace and be in the same physical space he was. I rode the ferry to Manly late in the afternoon and sat and watched the people who were waiting, seeing families out with each other and remembering that Syd had been alone for many years up until that fateful day. I walked the length of the ferry, inside and out, and sat on the bench looking out to the heads as we came into Manly. I pondered what he was thinking at this point and what plans he was making. Had he deliberately chosen a winter’s night because it afforded him the convenience of wearing heavy clothing that would assist him in sinking to the bottom of the harbour? I got off the ferry, had a coffee and waited for the return ferry. Night fell as we left the wharf and a light rain was falling. The wind had started to bite but I braved the outside of the ferry regardless, wanting to absorb the atmosphere of being on the harbour in the dark. The waters of the harbour to me were dark and creepy, but then I have always been afraid of deep dark water. A few minutes into the journey, the ferry was cruising along steadily and I could see the lights of the city in the distance. I wondered at this stage was Syd resolute in his desire to end his life. Was he scared? Did he have a clear plan of action? Had he researched what would happen to him when he jumped off the ferry? I believe Syd had a better idea than most would in that position. You see Syd was a sailor. He had joined the British merchant navy as a teenager and had sailed between London and New York throughout the 1930s working as a saloon boy, engineer’s boy and steward. He would have known the inner workings of a vessel and the procedures when things went wrong. He had loved the sea and followed in the footsteps of the father he never met.
So on this last journey from Manly back to Circular Quay, Syd had a 30 minute window to execute his plan. Actually less than 30 minutes if he was to go over somewhere in the deepest part of the harbour. Had he made this journey before and done other trial runs? Or was this his first time? Some many questions appeared before me as I sat in the cold and rain on the exact same ferry, The Freshwater, that Syd had taken that night. The ferry he chose was close to empty, it being about 8pm on a weeknight. There were no city workers returning home as he was going in the opposite direction, heading back towards the city. He knew then that the chances of him being noticed were slim. He clearly wanted to disappear without a trace, hoping his body would never be found. We know this because he left no note at the boarding house where he had been residing and he used a particular method to increase his chances of sinking to the bottom.
As fate would have it, once Syd had found the perfect place just out from Manly and had climbed over the railing of the ferry, a young couple wanting to have a cigarette interrupted his plan. They sighted Syd just as he looked back at them and disappeared over the side of the ferry, into the deep dark waters of the magnificent Sydney Harbour. The young man yelled to his girlfriend a moment before, ‘Look this bloke’s going over.’ Weighted down by dozens of silver coin, Syd quickly sank below the gentle swell and disappeared. The young couple raised the alarm immediately and the ferry was halted. In the darkness the crew shone their lights looking for the man who had decided he was done with life. Their search yielded no results, nor did that of PolAir.
It would be 12 days before Syd’s body surfaced and was found not far from Manly Cove, floating in a bay. His plan to sink beyond capture had been foiled. He was identified by his pensioner card located in his wallet. Without any family to bury him, his kindly neighbour at the boarding house arranged for his cremation and his ashes to be placed in a memorial wall at a northern Sydney suburb cemetery. Syd’s life was so much more than the way he died and in a future post I will be sharing more of his story. But the profound experience of walking in his footsteps on his final journey is one I will never forget. I feel a closer connection now to this man I never met yet learnt so much about from my grandmother. It’s not always easy uncovering these family stories and even harder to write about them but I remain committed to honouring all those people who came before me and those that were important members of my immediate family. Syd was a treasured member of my grandmother’s family and in remembering him now, we can continue to keep him close within the folds of our family unit. Syd is now back together with us, after so long apart.
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