I have to say the things that I want to say because I could go tomorrow. I could get
diagnosed tomorrow and I could go in a week and that could happen to any of us. To why
are we doing this? Why are we wasting time worrying about stupid things?
Hi, I'm Jess Rowe and this is the Jess Rowe Big Talk Show. A podcast that skips the small
talk and goes big and deep. From love to loss and everything in between, I want to show
you a different side of people who seem to have it all together in these raw and honest
conversations about the things that matter. Michelle Brazier is hilarious. She's the
kind of woman I'd love to be friends with. She adores to laugh, be silly and to dance.
However she doesn't shy away from the hard stuff of life. Her professional title includes
being an award winning actor, singer, writer and comedian with sold out shows across Australia
and the UK. She's also written a memoir called My Brother's Ashes are in a Sandwich Bag.
It's about losing her father and her brother to cancer, exploring their death, grief and
loss and poses the question, what would you do if you found out that you had less time
on earth than the average bear? This book, it made me laugh and it made me cry. And if
you're like me and you struggle sometimes to know the right way to talk about grief
and loss, then I think this conversation with Michelle might make it easier not to tip toe
around the topic and to just dive in and to be there holding the hand of those that
you love. Michelle, you describe yourself as a silly Billy and that is my favourite
type of person. I adore being silly. It's important. It's essential to me. It's the
stuff of life and it helps me deal with the ups and the downs of life. And you say that
power in being a silly Billy. Yeah. Tell me why for you. Well, I think that it makes you
accessible to people. I think that if you are too serious, you'd shut things out. Seriousness,
I think comes with a no behind it. Whereas silliness comes with a yes or at least a curiosity
behind it. And then you're going to enjoy life more and people are going to enjoy being
around you more. You don't have to be funny. You just have to be silly. Yes. Amen. Amen
to being silly. Yes. But to me, what I find fascinating though about you and your work
is you are silly. You say, no, I don't want to be serious, but you really tackle some
serious, heavy, hard things in your work. Yeah. Well, I want to invite silliness into
serious spaces. And I think that's what my whole job is really. As somebody who's like
trying to be, you know, a storyteller in the world, I think that like the kindest thing
that you can do for somebody who's having a hard time is to offer them some levity.
And I think that's the same with dark topics, you know? I think that if you make space for
humour, then it can't control you in the same way that dark things sometimes can, you know?
And you've made space for death and for grief. And you've shared in a very personal way your
experiences with the loss of your dad and your beautiful brother. Yes. I think you have
to. Well, you don't have to, but you can make the choice whether or not you're going
to enjoy your life no matter what happens. And I think, you know, obviously I say that
from a place of privilege. I don't live in a war zone. It's easy for me to say that.
But I do find that the things that have happened to me have really helped me to have this gift
of perspective, which I think is what grief is all about, because it gives you perspective
on who you've lost and how big that is, but also that you will go to and that maybe you
should stop and pat every dog you see, you know, which is something I say all the time.
But like, have a look at the sunset, you know, like go outside, go to the window. It could
be the last one. We don't know. So I think I'm grateful for grief in that way. What a
way to look at grief, to say you're grateful for it. Yeah. Well, I mean, I have to be either
grateful or just despairing. And I don't have any interest in living my life that way and
moving through the world as somebody who has lost. I want to be somebody who has continued
to be curious and to grow, despite what's happened to me and despite where I come from
and despite blah, blah, blah. I'm much more interested in a person who is surprising.
And so I try to be surprising. How did you get to that place though? You were 19 when
your dad died and you'd have every reason to be despairing and to say, I'm not talking
about this. I don't want to go out into the world. Yeah. I'm interested in this in myself
as well. Like I look at myself as a 19 year old and I don't understand how she did it.
But now, like, I also know that at the time it just made sense to me to be funny. And
I think maybe part of it was my brother. Like he was always inviting humor into spaces and
he was so funny. And before he was gone, he was grieving dad with me and my sister. And
I sort of looked around and I could see that everybody was despairing and I could see that
there was something missing. And I think, like, maybe it was arrogance, the arrogance
of being 19 years old. I just was like, well, I can do that bit. I can do that. I'll talk
at the funeral. I'll sing at the funeral. I'll look after everyone. I'll make them laugh
because it seems like no one's doing that. And that will give me something to do. And
in a way, perhaps it was a way to avoid the despair. Like it was a running away from and
a deflection from. But I ended up finding just a really nice way to grieve, which is,
you know, through music and stories rather than just letting it live in my shoulders.
I wanted it to sing. And you sang, as you say, at your dad's funeral. Yeah. And then
at your brother's funeral. Yeah. And that image of you singing, I think is so powerful
because if I think about if I was to lose someone I really love, I don't think I could
have a voice. I don't think I'd have that in me. Yeah. I think it's there. I think everyone
has it. It's about just like singing is so close. I say this all the time, but physiologically
singing is so close to crying and so close to laughing. They're really, really similar,
like vagus nerve kind of rewarding responses to a big emotional stimulus. And I think you
can program yourself to choose a different one. And I'm not saying don't cry. Of course
cry. But I just sometimes choose to sing because it's a nicer way of getting that energy out
for me. It feels more cathartic than a cry to have a big, huge thing. And it's the same
physical response. Like my body feels as if I've had a big cry, but I haven't. I've just
sung. And then I've also been able to share something with someone.
And I, I'd had such a sheltered life until then, you know, we grew up very working class
and a lot of people say working class and they don't mean it, but we were actually
working class and from the country and, you know, didn't go to private school and, you
know, but we were quite comfortable. Like mum and dad had jobs the whole time. They
didn't lose their jobs. We, they owned the house, which is like such a privilege. So
nothing really wrong ever happened in my life. I'd never lost anything and I'd never wanted
for anything. Like I couldn't afford all the lessons I wanted, but I was lucky enough to
for singing lessons. And so I'd never wanted for a single thing. And then this happened.
So I lost my dad. Not only did I lose dad, but I'd just gotten out of hospital when dad
was diagnosed with cancer because I had been in this house fire, which was ridiculous.
It was a very serious burn though. Yeah. You were sent away from the hospital. Then you
were told, wait a minute, you've got to go back and you spent a long time there. Yeah.
And then you finally got home. And then what happened when you were sitting on the bottom
of the stairs? Oh, I was, so I walked home from the hospital because no one could come
pick me up, which was ridiculous. But all my housemates and my best friend, James, who
I'm staying with at the moment, who I talk about in the book all the time, he had spent
all of his leave, like sitting with me while I was in the hospital recovering. And we'd
just sit there and watch Tyra Banks and America's Next Top Model. And he'd used all his leave.
Mum had to stay with dad in Wagga because he was feeling a bit sick, but obviously no
one had told me that he was feeling sick. We weren't really worried about it. So no
one could come and get me. So I walked home and I just wanted to walk again, but it was
only a block. Took an hour. I sat down and then I felt, I was feeling really sorry for
myself, taking things too seriously. And I saw this possum in a tree and I love a possum.
I love any animal. I'm a freak. I like, I'll follow a rat and try to be friends. I love,
I love any animal. And I saw this possum and I was like, yeah, you're right. Nature's beautiful.
Hey girl, like I can do this. And then the possum leapt onto my face and just wouldn't
let go. And I was like, are we kidding? Like, is this The Truman Show? Too much plot actually,
notes for the writers, too much plot in my life. But it was good, you know, it was good
because it made me laugh and it stopped me from taking things too seriously. And that's good.
It felt good to have something else to focus on. Well, to look for the laughter. But while this
was happening and you'd think as a young woman, that's enough, then, you know, you get the
terrible news about your dad. He is diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Yes. And two weeks later.
Yeah, he was gone. Yeah, he went really fast. But I did get to say goodbye. I was there when
he died, which was really good. The timing was really kind of a blessing in a way, I guess,
because I'd just, I'd been able to leave the hospital and so I was able to go home to Wagga
where I'm from and be with dad when he was going. But we didn't have any notice. Like we thought
they said that he would have another Christmas. And I remember that just being so heartbreaking
because when my mum said to me, like when she told me about him, she said they think he'll have a
little bit longer. So we should get one more Christmas. And I thought, oh, that's a, that's
a promise she's made to herself. That's something that she's gone, okay, one more Christmas. And we
didn't get one more Christmas. And Christmas has never been the same, I think, because of that. I
think not just because dad's gone and not because my brother's gone, but because there was a promise
of another Christmas, at least. And we didn't have it, you know. And when you think you've made
peace with the worst case scenario, and then it's worse, I think that's so cruel. And I think that's
what happened to my mum in that moment. And to me, probably too. But yeah, he, he went downhill
really fast and which people can do with pancreatic cancer. It's such a silent killer, and it comes
to you so fast. But in a way, maybe it's kind because you don't know you're sick until it is
too late, and you don't have to be sick forever and ever. So there's, you know, a lot of different
ways of looking at it. And I'm sure lots of people have different opinions. But my dad was well until
he wasn't. And then he just wasn't. And then I had this feeling, I woke up in the middle of the night,
and I woke up my best friend, James, who I was living with. And I was like, I'm gonna go to
Wagga. I just feel like I should go. And we drove through the night to Wagga. And my brother called
me when I got to Aubrey, because I was living in Melbourne. And he was like, Hey, listen, we've
booked you on the first flight. Dad's not good. So yeah, you've got you've got to come and say
goodbye, basically, he's asking for you. And I was like, I'm in Aubrey. I'll be there when you
wake up. Don't worry about it. Like I'm an hour away. So there was this, you know, I don't I'm
not a religious person. But I do love when things like that happen, when you just have a feeling
when there's like an instinct that that makes you feel like something has led you here, whether
it's intuition, or like, who knows what it is, the big giant Labrador in the sky, I don't know. But
I like that idea. Wouldn't that be nice? Just eating snacks. But like, I think, I mean, I love
that I love that people can make meaning where there is none. And that's why we're so good at
creating all these religions and all these things that that people believe in. So I, you know, I
sort of just believe that I was supposed to get there. Not for any reason other than it just feels
better if I do, you know, if I say there is meaning in that travel, and there is meaning in this
goodbye, it's better than, oh, I just happened to get there and saw him die, you know, I think, if
you can add a bit of poetry to your life, it makes it a bit more palatable. Well, you do add poetry
all the time to your life with the stories that you share. And you talk about things being cruel,
and the cruelty for your mum not having that other Christmas. But, but as well, I think what's so
cruel is soon after your dad died, your brother was then diagnosed with stage four bowel cancer.
Yeah, that was quite mad. Yeah, that's what I said. Um, that felt very, it felt different, you know,
because you know, you're going to lose a parent and my parents were a bit older than other people's
parents. Like my, my mum had me. Oh, she was like, like, you know, she was 42, which now seems very
regular, but at the time, I think wasn't. And so a lot of, you know, my parents were a bit older
than everyone else's parents. My dad was again, maybe seven or eight years older than my mum. So
I knew that they would go while I was still relatively young, but I thought they would go
when I was in my forties. I didn't think that they would go quite so, so fast. And obviously,
we're so lucky we still have my mum who is just the most tenacious and wonderful and hungry for
life person. She's busier than me. Her calendar is full. Like you can't get a minute with her.
It's amazing. But I think losing my brother, but the idea of he's sick as well and it could happen
again was so frightening because he was young. He was 42 when he was diagnosed and he was my big
brother and he was there my whole life. And he was like a guarantee, you know, he was somebody,
which is silly to think of now, but he was a constant thing that was there. And I based my
personality off him. He was funny. He loved music. He loved traveling. And I was funny and I love
music and I love traveling. And all of that was just because I wanted to be like him. So for him
to be diagnosed with something, for him to be made vulnerable, this really big, strong man to be made
vulnerable in such a way changed the world for me, I think. And I think a lot of people speak about
that kind of thing, you know. That's something that can make you grow up really fast. And it
was hard, but I also knew he would go. I knew he would go immediately. Mum called me and said,
Paul's been taken to hospital because he's collapsed and there's internal bleeding. He had
low iron and they knew that there was no reason for that. And so they had looked and they'd found
some internal bleeding. And I just knew, I was just like, it's cancer and he'll be gone really
soon. And he was. And I mean, did I know or did I prepare for the worst and hope for the best,
like a true stoic? I don't know. But I just, in that moment, I grieved my brother and then the rest
of the time I spent just filling up on him when I could, you know. But it still came as a shock
when he went. It didn't feel real and it still doesn't feel real because he was always in a
different country or whatever. So I still think he's somewhere. You know, I think he's like in
Canada or in Turkey or whatever. I don't think he's gone, but he is, he's gone. And he was your big
brother. And he used to take you as a newborn into his bed, didn't he? Yeah, he's a lot older
than me. So he, he took me to his formal, like his high school formal when I was a tiny baby.
And it was great because it's like the 80s, like the late 80s. So he's this like in this frilly,
weird, insane, gorgeous 80s suit with this tiny baby off to the formal. Like he really took to me
because I guess he was old enough for me to not be annoying because he was almost an adult. And that
was really, really lovely. Yeah. He would, my mum would wake up in the middle of the night and be
like, why isn't the baby crying? And it was just like, my brother had gone and gotten me and put
me in his bed. Like we were so close. And I think I owe everything to him. It's such a shame. I think
all the success I've had, because he would understand it in a way that other people in
my family maybe don't, but he would get it because he'd be like, oh, I showed you Monty Python
when you were a kid. And here's like you doing a gig with one of the Monty Python men. And like,
whereas, you know, mum and my sister, of course can appreciate it. And they're so proud of me,
but they don't have that full circle. They're not a part of that story. Whereas he was a part of that
story and he has a legacy of that. And it's a shame to not be able to offer that to him.
And I wish, I wish I was religious. I wish I believed in some sort of afterlife so that I
could feel like he was here. I wish that. So what do you believe in then? I believe in
in people. And I believe in, there's this thing that says that got shared on the internet all the
time about a physicist speaking at your funeral and explaining that, you know, nothing new,
there's no new energy created in the universe. So everything is still around, you know,
and it just changes form. We don't, we just sort of, our energy is elsewhere, but it's still there.
Yes. Not in the physical sense, but it's around us still. It's somewhere. I love it. Yeah. It's
in the grass. It's in the trees. It's in the Labradors. It's around. And so I think that,
and I think that's the kind of thing, again, like I just want to add meaning where there is chaos
because it makes me feel better and I'm okay with that. A placebo works when you know it's a placebo.
I really do believe that. I really believe that the energy of the people that we lose is still
around. And if you believe that hard enough, then it can give you some comfort. And I think anything
that can give you comfort is helpful. And with how you managed your grief, how do you do that?
Again, this is something we don't talk enough about. Yeah. I think grief is a space that we
take too seriously. Again, I'm on this train all the time, but we really do. We inject all
of this seriousness and it's so Western as well. This sort of weird taboo around grief and around
death and we don't want to touch it. It's the same with people who are depressed, people who
get cancer diagnosis. A lot of the time people will just slowly edge away from it because they
don't want to face it and they don't know how. And they don't know how, not because they're unkind,
not because they're selfish, but because they don't want to get it wrong. But you're not going
to get it wrong. You can't get grief wrong. You can't get death wrong. You can't get your
dying friend wrong, except for if you retreat. You're not going to say the wrong thing. Just
try. It's like people are so afraid of upsetting people that they would rather just disappear.
And I think it's the same thing with grief. But for me, my experience of grief has just been,
it's been community. I mean, people just rallying around me, my friends, my family,
strangers, because I've shared this story so much. But when I talk about my brother,
the day my brother died, I was in Edinburgh and I was at the Edinburgh Fringe.
And I had a show that night. My manager called and was like, I've cancelled the show. And I was
like, no, no, no, put it back on. Like I want to go on. Because I'd promised him that I wouldn't
cancel any shows and that I wouldn't come home. I wouldn't cut the trip short and I wouldn't cancel
it. And so I was like, well, I'll go on. And it was the best thing I've ever done. Because the
people that showed up to that show, which was in this tiny little room back then in Edinburgh,
in a turret of an actual castle that was a 40 seater at midnight. I had a room full of Australians
and UK, like the people that I'd become new family with and like the Australian entertainment
industry were just there. People I didn't know yet, you know, people who've now become friends,
but who at the time had just heard there's an Australian girl. It's her first time in Edinburgh.
She needs help. Go and see her show. And they did. And I felt so uplifted by that. And I felt
so loved and held. Just I think that the little things that you can do for people really make a
difference. You know, I talk about like bringing lasagna and flowers and things, but these people,
the people at Gilded Balloon, the venue that I did, they had a bit in the show where I asked
if anyone had brought their snow globes, which is just like a random bit. And of course they
hadn't. And the venue had spent the day buying enough little snow globes for the audience and
sneaking them to them and getting them to hide them. So that when I said, do you have your snow
globes, the entire audience held a snow globe in the air. And I, you know, my heart was broken,
but my heart was full and there's nothing quite like that. And I'm not saying that you have to
go and do a show to like get through your grief, but it's just, if you do open yourself to people,
they will come to you and they will offer you such generosity. And I couldn't,
I couldn't believe that they'd done that. It was so silly and so funny because I was like,
well, now I have to do the rest of the show. And there is a handful of random people who've
just bought tickets and don't know what's going on. I think the absurdity of it is the joy of it,
you know? And I don't remember the flowers and I don't remember the lasagnas and I don't remember
the cards, but I remember the snow globes. I remember the specifics. And I remember
all of the people that turned up, even though they didn't know me. And I'll never,
never forget that. So I think, you know, if you are going through grief, open yourself up to
people because they will surprise you and ask for help. Like tell people that you're struggling
or tell people that you're not. You don't have to struggle either. Sometimes grief is relief
and that's fine too. There shouldn't be shame attached to your grief.
And relief in what way?
Well, I mean, a lot of the time, I think there's relief that people aren't suffering anymore.
And then people have so many complicated relationships. You know, you can have a
complex relationship with a parent who might be dying or with anyone who might be dying.
And maybe they haven't been the best version of themselves for their entire lives. And you
maybe haven't even forgiven them, but you have to be there because nobody else is there.
You're allowed to feel relief that they're gone as well as grief. You don't have to pick.
And I think that can be complicated for people too and scary. And I just think when you are feeling
the weight of grief, people offering you levity is such a kindness, but you have to be open to it.
You have to make it clear to them that it's okay to make a joke. And you'll make a joke and they
won't laugh because they don't know how hot the temperature is. And that's fine, but you can show
them. And if you just show them, then they won't be as afraid when it happens to them.
I think that's really special.
And that idea I think is so powerful too of not being afraid because we are afraid sometimes to
are we going to say the wrong thing or it's too hard. So I will just stay away.
You also write about the two full pieces of pizza idea with grief,
which I really thought was terrific.
Oh, thank you. That's very kind. Yeah. I have a chapter in my book called
The Actual Stages of Grief. And one of them is, yeah, two whole pieces of pizza where you
find yourself eating again and you go, oh, life has returned a small amount. And it is a wonderful
and awful realization that life will continue. And I think there's something really gorgeous
about that because you're forever changed, but you're also exactly the same. And there will
always be pizza, you know, and even though the most important person in your life is gone and
your entire life could be completely changed, there is still pizza and you will still have the
pizza. And I think that's kind of gorgeous and also monotonous and boring, but that's what life
is, you know, it's all of those things. How has those deaths of your dad and your brother,
how has it changed you? Oh, for me, I think I'm much better off, which is crazy. And like,
I would prefer to have a dad and a brother, but I guess as a substitute, I will accept
the gift of perspective and also just not being quite so annoying. I think I took things too
seriously before. I was really obsessed with, you know, my career and getting things exactly right.
And I'm not afraid to get things wrong anymore. And I'm not afraid to try new things. In fact,
I am mostly just afraid that I won't try enough. Like my anxiety comes from not feeling like I'm
doing enough or not feeling like I've got control over enough things, because I do think they will
go away. You know, I think that things will just disappear. And I think COVID probably didn't
really help. But I think there is something in me that's really just desperate to consume as much
as I can. Because you know time is finite, don't you? Exactly. Yeah, exactly. But that clock is
ticking. And when we haven't seen that close up, we can take that time for granted. I think so. I
think that there's an idea and I say this often that like I'm other people's other people. So
there's these stories that we hear and then we're like, oh, that just happened to a person I know,
or happened to a person that knows a person that I know. It's these things that happen to other
people. And it is things like cancer, especially things like skin cancer. I mean, we're always just
like, Australians, we're going in the sun all the time and being like, it'll be fine. It's like,
it's not actually fine. It's not necessarily fine. And it will happen to you. We don't believe that
we could be a statistic. And I think that's the value of stories, is that we can understand
ourselves in a story. And that can change your behaviour and that can change your perspective.
And that's why I share my story. But I think, you know, I've been in a house fire, you know,
I sat too close to the heater and it did happen to me, you know, that thing happened. And
there was such a quick turnaround with my dad's diagnosis and his death and my brother. And
I just think the idea of becoming other people is so freeing, because you go, oh, anything could
happen to me. And anything could happen to the people I love. And so I'm not going to waste time
trying not to be cringe or trying not to be, you know, not knowing what to say, so not saying
anything. I'm always going to say something. And to my like absolute detriment, like I'll stop a
person in the street and be like, I love this outfit. And they don't like that. But I have to
say the things that I want to say, because I could go tomorrow. I could get diagnosed tomorrow and I
could go in a week and that could happen to any of us. So why are we doing this? Like why are we
wasting time worrying about stupid things? And we're so divided. And I know, you know, it's easy
to say that, but such a divided people. And that's crazy, because really, we're all just trying to
stave off death and be with the people that we love. And the rest is just a distraction.
So be kinder. And also for you saying, I think it's important to say things to people that you
see in the street. And often I'm the person grinning and they're like, who was this lady
grinning dramatically at me? But for you to, it's not sort of, I suppose, because of not,
I don't want to say just what's happened with your brother and your dad, but also
you went to see a genetic counsellor who told you, you had a 97% chance of developing a cancer.
Yeah. What a treat. What a joy. Did you really kind of go, hello, isn't there enough?
I'm special. I'm not like the other girls. I didn't see that coming. And I think it's
different as well. Like different doctors say different things and there's different things
that you can do. What they think that we have is Lynch syndrome, but they don't really know.
Which is just another, a lot of people have heard of the BRCA gene, but it's one of those.
It's just a genetic mutation that makes, instead of closing the door to cancer,
your body accidentally will just open it. It's just a, I mean, that's a simplification,
but it's just that. And I think for me, I don't know if it's been freeing to find out,
but it at least has been informative. And I'm the youngest and I have a head start. I'm much
younger than my brother, much younger than my dad. So I hope that I have my mum's genes and I hope
that it's, you know, I hope that I don't get cancer, but also if I get it, I'm ready to fight
it. And I'm doing everything I can now to get ahead of it. And I get everything tested all the time.
But I talk about it publicly and I do my shows and I've written my book and I'm so brave and I'm blah,
blah, blah, but I, I can't be in a hospital. Like I, my body will reject being in a hospital.
I just start crying. Like I just, I do have so much anxiety about dying. I can't fly very well
cause I just think, Oh God, like I'm really increasing the risk of dying. And that's really
silly cause I'm more likely to die in a car, but I can become quite irrational at times. And then
also- But you've got every reason to be. I went to a psychologist and I was like, Hey, can you help
me because I'm obsessed with dying and I think I'm going to die. And these are all the reasons why.
And he was like, your response is actually quite rational. I can't help you. And I was like, not
this. Are you gentle on yourself about that? I try to be. My partner's more gentle with me than I am.
I am impatient with myself and it is because I know I've got a limited time here, you know,
as we all do, but I want to get everything done and I want to get everything out, you know,
I'm going to get everything in and I want to get everything out. And I get afraid that something's
going to get in the way. You know, I always think things are going to disappear or go away. And I
I'm worried that my partner will die. I'm always worried about him if he's sick or anything. I
do sort of spiral about that kind of thing, but- And your partner, Tim, who is a performer as well,
and he performs with you on stage. And I've read how you described yourself as queer,
but in love in a domesticated relationship with a man. With a straight man, yes. Yes,
who loves cricket. Yeah, for diversity. Yes. I often say Tim's the last man. Like if it wasn't
him, it would definitely be a woman, I think. And that's not for any of us. Men are wonderful. You
know, we really shit on men and I mean, some of them deserve it, but most of them, you know,
there's a lot of really good men in my life and in the world. But I just don't think I'm,
I just haven't been attracted to a man since I met Tim, but I've been attracted to a lot of women.
But I just think he, I don't know, he's magnificent in a way that he is so smart and so
gentle and so warm. And he has the same appreciation for a sunset or a dog that I do
without having the loss that I have. And so I think there's something really beautiful about him and
that came so naturally to him. I can trust him. I can trust him to tell me when I'm being silly,
when I'm being, you know, absurd, or if I'm taking things too seriously, if I'm worrying
about things that I can't control, I can trust him to say stop. And he won't even say stop.
He'll just run a bath and be like, I've put Buffy on the laptop in the bath, get in the bath. Like
he's just, he's very, he's a keeper. He's a keeper. He really is. Yeah. Which is quite nice. It's
I feel really lucky that I found him and that we can work together is really nice as well. But yeah,
he's very gentle on me and very, I guess, responsive to all my anxieties in a way that
is really generous. And that anxiety though is totally justified because of everything that has
happened in your life. And with that sort of in mind, are you afraid of dying? Because I'm afraid
of dying. Yeah. Yeah, I'm afraid of dying. I'm really afraid of dying. And if I get a terminal
diagnosis, I know that I will make it beautiful. I know that I will write the most beautiful things
I've ever written and I will sing the most beautiful songs. And I will say such gorgeous
things that will make people cry and say, how is she like this? How did she do it? But I will be
terrified. And that will all just be to hopefully leave something behind before I go.
I know myself enough to know that I would be terrified, but I am. I think about it all the
time and I've had scares and I find it really paralyzing. I find it really hard. I don't like
to not be in control of things and you can't control cancer and you can't control life.
Maybe that's why I tell stories because I feel like if I'm telling the story, then it's mine and
I'm in control of it. And there's like a whole thing, I think it's called story therapy that
people do, where it's like you take a story, like something happened to you and you make it a story
and you tell it in a way that feels powerful to you. And I think that's probably just what I've
been doing and will continue to do until I die in a bear door or am found by a jogger.
But that's how you manage your grief too. You heal yourself on stage, on the page,
through your voice. Yeah, I do. And I think I want to offer that to other people as well.
Like my show Average Bear, that was the first time I started talking about this stuff publicly.
And share the premise behind that because it's sensational.
Thank you. So Average Bear is what the book is based on and the book is called
My Brother's Ashes are in a Sandwich Bag. That's from a monologue that's at the end of Average Bear,
the live show, which is about me losing my dad and losing my brother and getting the burns and
everything. But it's also about a bear who's afraid to go into hibernation because her friends
keep calling her and they're obviously in a club and they're like, babe, we're at hibernation,
where are you? We're doing shots. And she's like, yeah, yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming.
And the show is sort of hosted at pre-drinks for her hibernation. And she's just trying to
keep people there. And she just doesn't want to go. And it's sort of a metaphor for treatment
because I often think about my brother and his chemo and the way it stopped him, the way his
chemo stopped him from traveling, stopped him from living, all for a chance at maybe a bit more time.
And it didn't pay off. And I would get treatment. I would absolutely get treatment. I would
absolutely get chemo. But just the idea of making that choice of going, I'm going to take my limited
time and fight as hard as I can in the hope for a spring that might never come. And the bear,
an average bear, she decides not to go into hibernation. She decides that she doesn't know,
because she's heard about climate change, she's afraid that spring might never come. And so she's
just going to make the most of her winter. And I think that's a valid choice too. You know,
depending on your diagnosis, depending on your situation, I think it's okay sometimes to make
the most of your winter. And she wants to see the world. She's never seen it before. So she
doesn't go to hibernation and she steals a plane and she dies. And the last line of her story is,
but at least she was alive when she died, which I think is, you know-
That's so beautiful.
Thank you so much. Thank you. But yeah, I love doing the show. And it's a comedy show, you know,
and I have done versions of it with a string section, which I adore and I get to do again
soon this year. I can't actually announce where it is yet, but I'm doing that again in Australia,
which is beautiful. And I find that people come to the show, it started to get a word out,
and people would come who were dying. And people would come straight from funerals. People would
come after getting a diagnosis, they would come and see the show. I spoke to this wonderful
psychologist, Chris Cheers, who was like, hey, I came to your taping of your special,
because you can see it on ABC iview, not the strings version, but the other one. And he was
like, I've been telling people to watch that. People who have come to me with grief, I've told
them to go and watch your special. And I thought that's such a huge thing for me. And you know,
I've made this space now and I always stick around after the show and hug people who want to hug.
I remember there was one girl who, it was during COVID, and she came over and she gave me a whiskey,
because I talk about whiskey in the show, about balance, the balance of making the most of your
time, but also trying to extend your time. So yoga in the morning, whiskey in the evening,
and she brought me a whiskey. I could sort of hardly hear her and she had this raspy voice.
And I was like, oh, are you sick? Because I was worried I was going to get COVID and have to
cancel the shows. I was like, are you sick? Are you okay? And she was like, oh no, I've got
throat cancer. I've had it for 20 years. And I was like, that's incredible. She was maybe younger
than me, like she was, or maybe my age, you know, she was, she was really young. And she'd just been
battling it her whole life. And she was like, thank you so much for making a space where we
can have a laugh. And I think that people just wrap people up in cotton wool, people who are
dying especially, because they don't, you know, they don't want to get it wrong. They don't want
to say the wrong thing. And so they say nothing. And there's no room for laughter. And I think
that has been sort of an unexpected side effect and something that I carry through all my shows
now, because I'm like, well, I have that audience now. And if they're still alive, they might as
well have a laugh, you know, I want them to be able to experience that. So it's been a huge privilege
to meet some people who are running out of time. And then also to meet some other people who don't
know that they're running out of time, which is really nice. And also, for you to inspire all of
us to make the most of what we have on this time on the planet. And in your book, I'll just finish
with this, a part that really sort of stuck with me too, was some advice that your brother had
written on the back of a coaster. Oh, yeah, this was so beautiful. Oh, my gosh. I was looking
through this book of things that people had stories that people had written about my brother
to give to his sons, which was so generous and so beautiful. And he had said to his friend on the
back of a coaster, he had written and given to her when she was going overseas, because he
traveled on a dollar a day, he traveled the world. He was just a really, he was an explorer. And he'd
written to her for her first trip on the back of a coaster, you know, never let money stop you from
seeing these things. Remember, you may only see these things one time, like drink it all in.
And I just thought, oh, my God, like, the poetry in that, the poetry that he had before he knew,
he lived his life like the way that I'm living my life, but without the loss. He just knew,
you know, he basically lived his retirement for his 30s. And I think that's extraordinary
that he did that. And I think we all should do that if we can. Thank you for showing us how we
can. I actually shared that with my daughter on the weekend, who's 15. And it was that incredible
notion of this might be the only time you see that. Don't forget it. It's the little things,
too. It doesn't have to be the big, massive things, but those little things treasure that
moment. So thank you for helping us to treasure those moments, but also to laugh, to laugh about
it. Yes, it's all very serious. I mean, I hope one day I can, you know, have an orange wine with you,
even though I don't know what an orange wine is. Oh, my God, I'm going to take you for an orange
wine. Is that a rose? No, it's not a rose, but it's close to a rose. It's like a skin contact
wine. Have you had like a Pet Nat, like a natural wine? It's close friends with that. It's like,
it's like a quarter of the way between, okay, so a rose is like a one and a kombucha is a 10.
I would say it is a four, three and a half. It's a three and a half. Okay. Well, I look forward to
three and a half, a laugh, a cheese plate and dancing and listening to you sing. And
thank you so much. Thank you so much. It's been wonderful talking, Michelle. Thank you.
Oh, there's so much that I took away from that conversation with Michelle. How about that notion
of just be there. Don't worry about saying the wrong thing. Don't retreat because I know I do
that sometimes. When something is too difficult, I think, oh, I'll just sort of sneak away. But no,
after talking with Michelle, laughing with her, reading her book, I think, no, I've got to be
there. I think we've just got to go for it. Be brave. And what about as well that notion from
her brother about, remember, remember when you're somewhere, when you're looking at things,
it might be the only time you're seeing this, the only time you're going to be with that person
sharing that moment. Let's be more present. That's what I really want to do. What about you?
Now, if you want to find out more about Michelle, her beautiful memoir,
My Brother's Ashes are in a Sandwich Bag, it's out now. And if you're keen to see Michelle live,
we'll put her tour dates in the show notes, including a special appearance at the Sydney Opera
House for All About Women that is there this weekend. And like Michelle, we have a lot of
incredible guests for you on the Jess Rowe Big Talk Show podcast. And it would mean so much to
me if you subscribe to the show. It's free and it means all of these great conversations will be
quicker for you to access in the app so you'll never ever miss an episode. And if there's someone
in your life who you think would love this episode and might be grappling with grief and loss,
or just wanting to think about how can I live my best life? How do I want to get the most
out of where I am now? Why not share this chat with them by simply tapping the three dots on
your screen. And if your besties or workmates aren't on board yet, share the word, get them
on board the Jess Rowe Big Talk Show train. Nick, my wonderful leopard lady producer,
she wants you on board too, too, too. That's not embarrassing at all, is it?
Now, if you enjoyed this episode with Michelle, I think you'll love my conversation with another
Michelle that I've had on the podcast. And that is the wondrous Michelle Lorry. I'll put a link
in the show notes for you. I think when you have been berated by a parent, when you've had to
live through hearing what someone like that thinks of you, and it's really not much.
And when you have come out the other side of that, when you've learned to live with that,
don't think there's much else that can get to you. I don't think anyone else's opinion
can ever hurt me after that, to be honest. Certainly not a stranger on social media.
The Jess Rowe Big Talk Show is hosted by me, Jess Rowe. Executive producer, Nick McClure.
She's a wonderful leopard lady. Audio imager, Nat Marshall. Supervising producer, Sam Kavanagh.
Until next time, remember to live big. Life is just too crazy and glorious to waste time
on the stuff that doesn't matter.