1951-2025
Barry Armstrong
To Be or Not To Be
That is The Question
| Rob Armstrong, a Red Cardinal, Barry Armstrong, Carl Olsen |
Summary
After 5 years living with dementia , Barry popped his clogs on September 12th 2005. It’s now 9 months since he lost the fight with Alzheimer’s, and every day since he’s been on my mind. To be sure he’s also thought of by family and friends. The Irish say: ‘A life well-lived leaves behind a beautiful legacy’, and his life was brimming with integrity, love, and a kindness that continues to inspire. That’s Barry, my bonny lad. What I want to do here is to keep the focus on dementia.
First Encounters and Enduring Friendships
I first met Barry, a vibrant, proactive young man at Leeds Polytechnic in September 1970. I had spent the summer in New Jersey, following my girlfriend to a suburb of New York, only to fail my first-year university exams and lose my girlfriend. It was a sad summer. On returning to the UK in September, I secured an undergraduate place at Leeds. It was in a lecture theatre there that Barry and Carl saw me registering, sporting a New York tan and a Mickey Mouse T-shirt. Barry remarked to himself, “That young Armstrong looks like he needs taking care of (I did). I’ll do it!” Thus began a friendship that would span fifty-five years.
The Cardinal
As a preamble I add to Barry’s story the legend of a wonderful bird, the male red cardinal, which flies between heaven and Earth, to reassure us that their loved one has settled down in heaven. The picture above is me with Barry, a red cardinal bird, and Carl in the early 1970s, a relationship that was to last 55 years. Barry then was a vibrant and proactive young man.
The Challenge of Dementia
When close friend Barry Armstrong took his terminal breath on September 12th last year I plunged headlong into a grief that is only now becoming bearable. I wasn’t shocked that he’d died, for everything I’d learned about dementia labelled it to be a killer, and my wife had nursed her previous mother in law in her final days suffering from this disease. As you know, neurodegenerative symptoms like memory loss, confusion, and difficulties in speech and understanding worsen over time, as dementia prevents brain cells from functioning properly.
It’s like a car engine in pieces on the garage floor—everything is there, but without a mechanic to assemble it, the car cannot run. It’s an analogy that Barry, a practical man, would appreciate. Barry was one of nearly a million people living with dementia in the UK. As the population ages, this number could rise to 1.7 million by 2040.
Hope and Progress
Medical advances continue to be made in what once were incurable diseases. Recently, I learned of a cure for a rare children’s blood cancer. There are hundreds, possibly thousands, of debilitating diseases yet to be conquered, but one by one, they will be overcome. For Barry’s illness, the time has not yet come, but when it does, there will be a celebration in heaven—and Barry will already be there, wearing a party hat! Last September was Barry’s Hamlet moment, when his mind chose “not to be.”
Music and Memory
I recently found myself singing “God Only Knows” by the Beach Boys. The beautiful harmonies were arranged by Brian Wilson in the 1960s. A favourite Beach Boys song from my teens simplifies relationship breakups witn the only credible bottom line for many existential issues, that “only God knows”. The words ih the song are these: “If you should you ever leave me, what good would living do me? God only knows what I’d be without you”. I learned as I grieved for Barry that the leading light of the Beach Boys, Brian died 3 months before Barry, after battling numerous illnesses, including dementia he contracted in 2023. Brian Wilson had died just 3 months earlier, from a concoction of complaints, including dementia. The Beach Boys’ sound were part of my adolescence.
Immortality
“Don’t stand at my grave and weep,
I’m not there. I don’t sleep.
I’m a thousand winds that blow.
I’m the diamond glints on snow.
I’m the sunlight on ripened grain.
I’m the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I’m the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I’m the soft stars that shine at night.
Don’t stand at my grave and cry; I’m not there. I didn’t die”
Faith and Lessons
I’m a Christian of the St James ilk. You will remember him as a fisherman who worked on the Galilee. It’s a romantic job. I come from a coal mining area in South Yorkshire, which is another romantic occupation. My first father in law was a farmer, who was killed in a horrific farming accident. Reality is often the opposite of romantic notion.
James was a man who saw experience as a no pain no gain deal, who wrote 2,000 years ago “Rejoice when you face trials of many kinds because they give you endurance”.
James didn’t mean “clap your hands and shout “Hooray”, but that you should take a deep breath and know your sad experience taught you something.
James was a cousin of Jesus. He had a fiery temper, and was beheaded 10 years after Jesus was executed
The red bird in the picture with Barry is a male Red Cardinal. According to legend, male cardinals travel between heaven and earth to reassure loved ones that their departed are well.
Final Thoughts
William Shakespeare’s soliloquy from Hamlet, written 325 years ago, introduced this letter: To Be Or Not To Be. That is The Question. Finally, I return to “God Only Knows”, a song which explores relationships and their endings: “Should you ever leave me, though life would still go on, believe me God only knows what I’d be without you.”
Analysing bereavement, you think of Queen Victoria dressed in black from Albert’s h until her own, 40 years later. It’s reported that she would wander around Buckingham Palace shaking her head, and ask visitors if she was mad!
I know where she was coming from.
Have you ever misplaced something important to you, and turned the house upside down trying to find it? If so you will also understand the Queen missing her husband, and bereavement generally.
My way with such extreme sadness is that I put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard and pray that the words that come out will bring me peace.
Another Barry (Barry Gibb) sang “It’s only words, and words are all I have to take your heart away”. Words are delicate and fragile tools, lightweight when they are pitted against emotional heavyweights like love breakdowns or bereavement
The picture above is of me with Barry and Carl in the early 1970’s.
Carl and I both recently contracted prostate cancer. After different treatment regimens Carl, in Australia, announced that he is now clear of the disease whereas I will be undergoing treatment with oral and injected medication at least until summer 2027.Don’t stand at my grave and cry; I’m not there. I didn’t die.
Barry, you were my good friend, and I miss you not being at the other end of a phone call. May God bless you, for before Alzheimer’s took hold of your brain you were gentle and thoughtful, always ready with a kind word or a helpful hand.
Back to my favourite Beach Boys song “God Only Knows” which explores relationships and their endings. A recurring line in the song is “should you ever leave me, though life would still go on, believe me God only knows what I’d be without you.”
My tribute combines the love, loyalty over again I resolved began to think this between Valentine’s Day and Patrick’s Day; a tad mystical, a lorro love, and a nod to the Irish.
Valentine’s Day, brought thewhich explains the red cardinal bird, a legendary messenger from heaven, who’s flown from heaven to o earth to tell us that Barry’s settled in alright.
You and I share the same surname but aren’t related.
I wish we were, and think the feeling was mutual.
I can’t think of a better brother than you.
Medical breakthroughs are made all the time in seemingly incurable diseases.
For example, I learned on TV last week that a cure has just be found for a very rare type of children’s blood cancer. There are hundreds, perhaps tens of thousands of debilitating diseases without incurable, but one by one they will be done away with.
For your ailment the time is not yet here. But when it is, a party will be thrown in heaven.
And you’re already there. Wearing a party hat!
Last September was your Hamlet moment, when your brain wanted not to be. You’re on the invitation list.
I recently found myself singing a Beach Boys song called “God Only Knows”. As you will remember the band sang harmonies arranged by singer Brian Wilson in the 1960’s.
chance Brian died 3 months before you from a catalogue of illnesses, including dementia, contracted in 2023.
I’ve seen many articles about neurodegenerative disorders with symptoms like memory loss, confusion, and problems in speech and understanding that get worse over time. Each type of dementia stops a person’s brain cells (neurones) working properly, affecting the ability to remember, think and speak. It reminds me of a car engine in bits on the garage floor. All the pieces are there, but until a mechanic puts them together the car won’t work!
It’s an analogy I think would make sense to you, practical man that you were.
You were one of nearly a million people who lived with dementia in the UK, and as the population ages, this could rise to 1.7 million people by 2040.
I first met you as a vibrant and proactive young man half a century ago in Leeds.
I spent my summer in New Jersey, following my Yorkshire girlfriend to a suburb of New York.
I’d failed my first year University exams and lost my girlfriend. It was a sad summer.
Returning from the US in September I managed to find an undergraduate place at Leeds, and it was in a lecture theatre there that you saw me walk in to register, sporting a New York summer sun tan and a Mickey Mouse T shirt, and that you said to yourself “That young man looks like he needs taking care of (I did). I’ll do it!
After witnessing your decline, I hope and pray with all my heart that 2026 will be better for your nearest and dearest.
I’m a Christian of the St James ilk. You will remember him as a fisherman who worked on the Galilee. It’s a romantic job. I come from a coal mining area in South Yorkshire, which is another romantic occupation. The reality is the opposite.
James was a man who saw experience as a no pain no gain deal, who wrote 2,000 years ago “Rejoice when you face trials of many kinds because they give you endurance”.
James didn’t mean “clap your hands and shout “Hooray”, but that you should take a deep breath and know your sad experience taught you something. So it was with Barry.
James was a cousin of Jesus and a fisherman, working on the Sea of Galilee. He had a fiery temper, and was beheaded 10 years after Jesus was executed
Heartache in small doses is good for the soul, but the sadness of Barry’s decline, as the murder of those in Auschwitz, was at the hands of murderers.
William Shakespeare wrote a powerful soliloquy in the play Hamlet 425 years ago and I’ve used the opening heading from it to introduce this letter. To Be Or Not To Be
That is The Question
Barry Armstrong 1951-2025 