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- Anthony Minghella by Brigitte Lacombe
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- Anthony Minghella Photo: Uli Weber by kind permission
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- Anthony Minghella by Brigitte Lacombe
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- Anthony Minghella shows early talent
6th January. Epiphany. Twelfth Night. The end of the festive season. Decorations down and back to work.
My brother, Anthony, would have been sixty one today. From this brilliant, beautiful man – my only brother – I learned so much about how to be. Except, possibly, how to grieve. He did not equip me for that. How to cope with missing him. How to stop longing for the phone to ring and for it to be him. The warmth in that voice of his, the love in it, the safety in it.
The way he gave things meaning. Things he loved, you loved too. Bach. Beckett. Joni, Jarrett. His ridiculously infectious enthusiasm. When you’ve had that in your life, it’s bewildering to have to endure its absence. When the sun has shone on you, like Jude Law’s Dickie on Matt Damon’s Ripley, and suddenly it’s not there, suddenly it’s cold – that’s what it’s like. It’s maddening – literally. It could make you lose your mind, lash out, kill.
Ah. Maybe he did teach me something about grief after all. And let’s not forget an entire essay on the subject, called Truly Madly Deeply. Yes. My feet will want to march to where you are sleeping. But I shall go on living.
So to all my loved ones, and to all of his – to all of us who knew the warmth of that particular sun and still yearn for it; to all of us who walk now with fire and frost, with the snow burning our hearts, a hug of mutual condolence. Yes, we’ve taken down the decorations. But we must go on living.
Photos: Brigitte Lacombe and Uli Weber. Fine words: Neruda.
Beautiful indeed. x
How special to have a relationship like this with a sibling; I can only imagine. But he is still here in your heart and imprinted on your memory, forever x
my dear Dominic, How beautifully you write and your words have such depth and resonance. January 5th was the anniversary of my Father’s death (11 years ago) and there are still times when I find it hard to deal with his absence. I guess that all we can do is bask in the warmth of all the wonderful memories that we’ll always carry.
Love to you and all of your family, Paul x
I lost my mum a few years ago and is was unbearable. It was like someone had filled my shoes with cement and every single foot step took an extra effort. If love could bring people back from the dead then my mum would have been back a day later but it cannot. I carry on with a knowledge that has never ever deserted me that I will see her again and feel that all warm all encompassing embrace that only a mother can give. I am convinced of this and it will happen and it will happen for you as well. Happy Birthday Anthony.
Feeling grief’s cold in Texas. Thank you for sharing your brother’s birthday with us. Warmly, J
Heartbreaking, what you write. The death of loved ones is a strange thing indeed. They are gone, but strangly they move closer, seep into our hearts like mist and take possession. They live in us and through us, through our eyes, in our words immersed in our feelings. Loved ones are as dead as we make them. And when we meet and think of them and reminisce they are amongst us, so terribly silent but oh so loud, so heart-burstingly alive. Don’t be sad, be happy, be joyous, be proud.
Happy Birthday, Ant!
Perhaps because it is January, perhaps because it is 0 degrees outside, perhaps because it is the anniversary of a cherished birth, perhaps because it is simply perfect to remember, and never forget.
Dominic, you, Anthony, and your family are in my thoughts, and in my prayers, from across the pond.
What a beautiful tribute and thank you for the reminder of his “ridiculously infectious enthusiasm”. I am so thankful I had the opportunity to work with Anthony on “Ripley”. What a rare and sparkling being he was. A genius and an imp. Interested in everyone and unfailingly kind. Giving of his time, his knowledge and his humanity. The world’s light shines a bit dimmer without him to reflect off of. Happy birthday, Anthony! I hope you are riding the tail of a shooting star!
Dominic, your love for Anthony is one of the most beautiful things i have ever witnessed, a real “epiphany” (which means a Glimpse of God…and so it’s true, if our God IS Love.) Your ongoing Love for your brother was more refreshing to me than any message i picked up in church. On my own, however, i always draw so much strength from that Feast Day, from the scene of the 3 Wisemen with their gifts. How fitting the gold for this King of all kings. And how appropriate the frankincense, symbol of all the prayers of the earth, for the Lord of all lords. But most of all, how PERFECT the gift of MYRRH! WHAT?! Are you nuts?! A pot of embalming fluid for a little baby boy???!!! i always found so much comfort and inspiration in that little pot in all of the paintings or sculptures, YEP! Cuz this Baby was born with a plan, this One came for one reason: to LOVE US TO DEATH – and BEYOND! To prove LOVE, to perfect LOVE, even if it meant such a horrific death at such a young age! The wonderful Dag Hammarskjold, head of the United Nations, who gave his life on a charity mission, always said, “You can’t separate the wood of the manger from the wood of the cross.” EVERYTHING is ONE, and YOU and ANTHONY are ONE, NOW MORE THAN EVER. You loved each other to DEATH, AND into the GREAT BEYOND. Thank you for continuing to share that love with us, your friends around the world. mike robinson in New York
Thank you.
+Requiem Aeternam dona ei, Domine
R. et lux perpetua luceat ei:
Requiescat in pace. R. Amen.
Don’t forget to have Masses said for him. It will also help with your faith.
Offering prayers for Anthony, and you, and the rest of the loved ones who are remembering him.