Oliver Johnston
D. B. Mautner & J. Y. Gao
Remembering a friend – D. B. Mautner
HOW DO YOU REMEMBER A FRIEND? A good friend. A beautiful human being. Someone, who you looked up to and assumed he’ll be your friend forever, surely, definitively – –
But then, from one day to the next, a tragic accident takes that life away?
I still cannot comprehend it. I mean, my heart cannot understand that I will not see Oliver again. I have to admit that there’s still somehow a tiny hope in my head that it might all be a nightmare from which I will wake up eventually.
Oliver was an Eldershaw boy. When I started at Eldershaw in year 7, he was one of the first “senior” boys I met. I was so impressed by how fun he was; he made school life seem so easy. I was introduced to Oli, by my friend and Oli’s younger brother Will, who is equally kind, funny, and amazing.
Every time Oli saw me in the Eldershaw locker room, he came up to me, put his reassuring hand on my shoulder and asked in his gentle, considerate, and slightly cheeky tone: “What’s up? Are you good?” usually followed by the sage advice of “Don’t work too hard.” Being new in the school, his shoulder pat meant the world to me. It invited me to talk; I felt understood, not judged; I received kind-hearted, smart, and sometimes hilarious answers to my little issues, that seemed big at the time and trivial now.
Oli also instilled in me a passion for Cadets. Oli loved Cadets and was engaged as CSM of Band and SGT for Independent Company. He raved about his experiences at Cadet camps, the fun adventures and activities, and the camaraderie. How could I not become an enthusiastic cadet myself? I am so grateful for it and all the experiences it offered.
Other snippets float around in my mind. A trip to Nelsons Bay; Oliver sang in the car to the silliest tunes, with gusto and smiles up to his ears. Quad biking in the dunes; Oli exuberant in his happiness, sense of freedom, and joy of life. Being hungry at midnight, we heated up apple pie, but regrettably our lack of cooking skills let us forget the crucial detail of setting a timer for the oven. When it finally dawned on us, the pie had turned to a black brick and the smell was … oh what’s a synonym for “really awful”?
I don’t want to pretend that writing about you, Oli, isn’t hard. In fact, it’s harder than I thought. I can’t see clearly the letters I write, my heart feels so very heavy. I am trying to remember the many many funny sides of you. I want to celebrate your beautiful sense of humour, your warmth, and your generosity. I want to learn from you how you always thought first of others and took an interest in the wellbeing of those around you. And I want to hold on to something; preserve reflections that so suddenly turned from delightful or silly anecdotes to most precious memories.
Just a few months ago, you came back to school as an Old Boy for a House meeting. You were full of stories from your university studies. Chemistry was your favourite subject and you had done so exceptionally well in your exams. You spoke with so much enthusiasm. I can’t wait to take that chemistry course myself. I joked that soon we’ll have lunch together at uni. I thought nothing of the remark. However, now it lingers in my head. It’s like a wish that seemed so simple, yet suddenly unattainable.
But there’s always a place reserved for you in my heart. I know you’ll guide me through that chemistry course with your kind voice and vibrant smile. And I will always feel your reassuring hand on my shoulder.
Thank you, Oli!
In Loving Memory – J. Y. Gao
IN LOVING MEMORY OF OLIVER JOHNSTON, I WRITE THIS ARTICLE; I shall recount some of my fondest memories of him, and in doing so, bring light to the characteristics that made him so treasured, amicable, and unique.
Our families were lucky enough to go on a joint trip together to China. On this trip, my mum would always point out to me how my brother was being left out of our conversations and I would always dismiss the point, make a small gesture to include him, then pick up the conversation where we left off. Of course, Oli didn’t understand Chinese, and so was most likely unaware of this side conversation we were having. But being the kind-hearted, observant person that he is, Oli removes himself from our conversation and becomes Jordan’s main interlocutor for the rest of the trip. As I listened in to their conversations over the course of the following days, I was amazed to hear the breadth of their discourse; in a brief period of time, Oli had managed to immerse my then 7-year old brother into topics as sophisticated as string theory, with my brother interjecting simplified recounts of my poor explanation of quarks. This is just one example of Oli’s innate generosity and kindness.
Amazingly, whilst voluntarily taking care of my brother, I remember discussing with him his future plans of making a drift quad bike, the possibility of a joint partnership in the commercialising of quantum computers using my dad’s factory, and recounts of Russian and German involvement in WW2, amongst a range of others. Of course, during our long walks on footpaths through various Chinese towns and cities, the most memorable of our experience together, for me at least, is humming to Dschinghis Khan’s Moskau just because. The two brothers had the song memorised in German, I had only time to memorise the pattern of the chorus and verse. But nevertheless, if you had seen us on the streets of Shanghai in winter of 2019, we would have been singing this song, acapella or with accompaniment. The point was made ever more poignant with Oli’s Russian fur hat which he proudly wore to all establishments.
Oli’s love for the world, his friends, and his family was felt by all. His passion for science and music, amongst many other hobbies and interests, was admired by everyone close enough to hear. His faith echoes into the heavens; and his love for life vibrates under our feet. The world is a dimmer place without him. Goodbye for now.
If you need any support, please contact:
- the School Counselling Service at shorecounsellors@shore.nsw.edu.au or
- Kids Helpline: 1800 551 800 or https://kidshelpline.com.au/teens/issues/what-big-thing-called-grief
- headspace: 1800 650 890 or https://headspace.org.au/explore-topics/for-young-people/grief-and-loss