Experiences of Jane Goodall's deceased husband

Jane Goodall writes in her autobiography, Reason for Hope: A Spiritual Journey, of the death of her second husband, Derek Bryceson: “A week later I went to Gombe. It was months since I had been there, and the field staff were really upset at the news about Derek, and understandably concerned for their own future. [Derek raised funds for Jane’s research and handled the necessary government permissions.] I was hoping to find healing and strength in the ancient forest. Hoping that contact with the chimpanzees, so accepting of what life brings them, would ease my grief.

 

The first two days were desperately sad, especially in the evening when I was all alone in the house where Derek and Grub [her son by a previous marriage] and I had known so much happiness. Which was peopled, now, by ghosts. And then on the third morning something happened. After my lonely cup of coffee, during which I sat in melancholy sadness and watched the changing colors of the lake, I set off to find the chimps. And as I climbed the steep slope to the feeding station, suddenly I found I was smiling. I was on the part of the trail that Derek, with his paralyzed legs, had found so difficult and tiring. [Derek’s airplane was shot down during WWII injuring his legs.] But now it was I, the earthbound one, who was struggling in the heat—he was light and free. He was teasing me so that I laughed out loud.

 

“That night something even more extraordinary happened. I was lying in the bed we had shared, listening to the sound of the waves on the shore, the crickets, all the familiar night sounds. I did not expect to sleep, yet sleep came quickly. And then, sometime during the night, I woke. Did I wake? Anyway, Derek was there. He was smiling and very, very much alive. He spoke to me. It seemed then that he spoke for a long time. He told me important things, things I should know, things I should do. And even as he spoke, my body, all at once, went rigid and the blood rushed and pounded in my ears. Roaring, roaring. Roaring through my rigid body. Slowly I relaxed. ‘Well anyway,’ I said, when I could, perhaps aloud, ‘at least I know you’re really here.’ And almost at once it all came back. My body went rigid again and was filled again with roaring. I remember thinking ‘I must be dying’ but I was not at all frightened. And when it stopped, I remembered nothing all—only that Derek had been there, that he had a message for me, that it was joyful. Nothing more. None of the wisdom. And almost immediately I fell into a deep sleep. [161-162]

 

“I had always believed that there is a state of being-ness that does not end with physical death; I had always known that mind could communicate with mind across distance; what happened after Derek’s death made me suspect that mind can communicate with mind across time. I do not feel the need to prove this to anyone: there are many who feel the same but we are ill-equipped by Western education for the task of convincing unbelievers of the reality of the spirit. Science demands objective factual evidence—proof; spiritual experience is subjective and leads to faith. It is enough, for me, that my faith gives me an inner peace and brings meaning to my own life. Yet I do want to share my experiences with those who want to hear. So let me relate two more incidents, both of which occurred on the night of Derek’s death. Both involve children, my own son, Grub [nickname for Hugo Eric Louis van Lawick], who was in England at the time, and Lulu, a little girl who lived in Dar es Salaam.

 

“At the time of Derek’s illness, Grub, thirteen years old, was a boarder (his choice) at a little preparatory school near Bournemouth. He did not know that Derek was close to death. Well, the night that Derek was dying, Grub was awakened from his sleep by a vivid dream. In his dream Olly [Jane’s aunt living with her mother, Vanne, at their house in Bournemouth] arrived at the school and spoke to him. ‘Grub, I have something very sad to tell you. Derek died last night.’ He went to sleep again, but once more was awakened by the dream, and Olly again repeated her message. When it happened a third time, he became distressed, and could not sleep. He actually went to the school matron to tell her he was having terrible nightmares, though he did not tell her what they were.

 

“In the morning Olly arrived at the school. Vanne was in Germany with me, having arrived the day before after an urgent feeling that she needed to see Derek [receiving treatment for cancer in a German hospital]. Olly took Grub outside into the garden and told him she had some sad news. ’I know,’ he said. ‘Derek is dead, isn’t he.’ Olly was stunned—until he told his dream.

 

“Lulu, the same age as Grub at the time, suffered from Down’s syndrome. Derek and I had been great friends with her parents and visited their house frequently. Indeed, when first I went back to Dar es Salaam after Derek’ death I stayed with them, unable to bear my own empty house. Derek was good with children, and Lulu loved him. The night he died, sometime in the small hours, she woke up and she ran along to where Mary, her nanny, was sleeping.

 

‘Mary,’ she said, urgently. ‘Please wake up. That man has come, and he likes me. He is smiling.’ Mary, have roused, told Lulu she had been dreaming, and to go back to bed. But lulu persisted. ‘Please come, Mary. I want to show you he is smiling.’ In the end Mary sat up, resigned.

 

‘Lulu, tell me who you mean. Who is this man who is smiling at you?’

 

‘I don’t remember his name,’ said Lulu. ‘But he comes with Jane, and he walks with a stick. And he likes me. He really likes me.’” [163-165]

 

 

Jane Goodall, Reason for Hope: A Spiritual Journey (1999, Warner Books). Excerpts selected by Robert Traer.