Che Darius Purcell

Ché Darius Purcell had many lives. He was a cowboy, a bull-rider, a stockman, a crocodile hunter, a fire-fighter, a fisherman and a backgammon player. He was a larrikin, a friend, a brother and my son.

Born 3 May 1980 Old Darwin Hospital NT
Died 30 July 2000 Opium Creek Station NT

Ché was my ‘May Day’ baby.

Ché touched the lives of many with his wry smile and willingness to help. He was quick witted with a great sense of humour and his word was his promise. His loyalty as a friend was acknowledged by the many who attended his funeral.

Ché listened and yearned for knowledge. Usually happy and easy going he possessed an underlying desire to be everything to everybody and, as his mother, I often wondered if he placed a burden too great upon himself in his desire to always please.

As a little boy Ché ran headlong into life. His little body could hardly keep up with his bright, inquisitive mind. He wanted to grow up and he wouldn’t slow in his desire for independence and manhood. I told him again and again to slow down, and enjoy boyhood: but to no avail. He met life’s challenges, took the risks and wouldn’t give up until he succeeded.

I remember back in 1990 when we drove from Darwin to Broome for a family holiday. At a roadhouse after Fitzroy Crossing we stopped for petrol when a road-train loaded with 3 cars of cattle pulled in. Ché asked where the cattle were going. A farmer friend, who was travelling with us, casually replied, “They’re going to slaughter”. Each of us went about our business; filling the car with petrol, checking out the lolly range in the shop, and going to the toilet etc. As we were about to leave Ché came running back to the car with a grin from ear to ear. No one had noticed that he had gone over to speak with the truckie. “They [the cattle] are not getting killed. They’re pets and they’re just moving paddocks”, he told us matter-of-factly. As the truckie walked past us Bob said, “Nice looking pets there mate” and the truckie nodded and smiled. Such was the affect this little boy had on everyone he met. His optimism infected people and we all tried so hard to please him back. Sometimes we couldn’t help him with his problems but he always soldiered on until the storm passed.

Ché’s sisters loved and adored him and he in turn tormented the hell out of them every chance he got but let someone else try and he was the mightiest defender.
What does a Mum write about her dead son? I loved him to the depth of my being. I miss him every day and I continue to hurt for him. I hate to think of his last moments and cannot understand how this handsome, kind and loved young man could want to remove his beautiful self from our lives.

Ché was just so special.

We miss you much.

Cowboy up.