Rhett William Lebkowski
On May 31, 1984, a gorgeous baby boy with a mop of dark hair was born. Rhett was my first-born and I absolutely adored him.
Rhett was a lively cheeky toddler, a bright bubbly little boy and grew into a handsome, fun-loving teenager.
Rhett had two sides to his personality – on the one hand he was a joker, brilliant mimic and life of the party, but there was another side – the gentle, kind-hearted, sensitive soul.
He was very popular with his peers and had heaps of good friends. Someone once told me that everyone went to Rhett with their problems and he was ‘everyone’s best friend’.
Two of his main passions in life were music and acting. From an early age he taught himself acoustic guitar, then bass guitar and finally moved on to drums. With his trademark long curly hair he was one cool drummer, forming a band with a couple of mates.
Most weekends the band would jam (much to the despair of our neighbours) and dream about rock superstardom.
Rhett was also a talented actor and could imitate accents perfectly. Once, on a family picnic, he perched himself on a little hill and recited the ENTIRE dialogue from the movie ‘Forrest Gump’. It was hilarious and had us all in fits of laughter. When I watched him perform in a school theatre production I was amazed at his talent and knew he had found his calling.
As mum to three sons, I made a point of spending one-on-one time with each of them. In 2000 I took Rhett to a 70′s concert in Melbourne, involving a 2 ½ hour train trip from our country town and an overnight stay in a backpackers hostel. We had the best time – talking non-stop about every subject, sharing our love of music at the concert and then laughing over the ‘seedy’ accommodation. We hardly slept that night, talking into the early hours, and I’d never felt closer to him.
By 2001 the band was getting more gigs and Rhett lay byed some expensive cymbals to enhance his drum-kit. He still enjoyed acting and had aspirations to be on TV, so sent his CV to a casting agent. Life was normal and uneventful. At around 5pm on June 25th, I was cooking tea when I heard an ambulance siren wailing in the distance. Living in a small rural community, I hoped it wasn’t for someone I knew.
Rhett was (supposedly) at the skate park with friends and my younger two were home. Minutes later police arrived at the house, urging me to get to the hospital, explaining there had been an ‘accident’ involving Rhett.
My beautiful boy, who’d just turned 17, had jumped from a tower. He never regained consciousness. Part of me died with him that night.
I was to realise, later, that Rhett was a better actor than we could ever imagine. His bubbly happy facade masked a low self-esteem and self-loathing.
Rhett had everything to live for – a loving family, many friends, unlimited potential, but he saw himself as a ‘no-hoper’.
Two weeks after his death, a letter arrived from the casting agent asking him to come for an audition…