Leora Levacic

From all accounts, the moment that Guy entered the world, it was clear he was special. He was described by a childhood family friend as ‘the golden boy’ and to those who knew him well, he really was.

​Born in the 60’s and growing up in the 70’s, Guy, Varda and I were always close, and our childhood was happy and carefree. We spent days frolicking down at the beach in Mt Eliza, jumping off the garage roof into the pool at Wilson Street and wandering the streets and parks of our local neighbourhoods of Doncaster, North Carlton and much later East Melbourne.

We got up to much mischief with the Zoureff girls, who were our usual partners in crime and those days formed a bond between the six of us that remains today.

My memory is of an idyllic childhood of innocence, endless days building sandcastles, climbing trees, riding bikes and being out from dawn until dusk.

With fun days spent unsupervised, we did engage in some naughtiness. The most memorable being playing the ‘invisible rope trick’ to the alarm of local drivers and making prank calls - which ranged from arranging phantom hair appointments to calling the fire brigade to the house across the road, while we watched the drama unfold from the safety of our house. We did get caught, and I’m sure it was all Guy’s idea!

While we always had enormous fun, we did push the boundaries a little and were lucky not to have caused or come to any real harm.

​Guy was beautiful. As a baby he was cute and chubby, and he grew into a dreamy teenager and a striking looking man. Behind those piercing green eyes was a sharp intellect and an enigmatic persona. He was complex, charismatic, mercurial, and as noted by one of his old school friends, he had a rockstar quality.

Guy loved the natural world, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that his favourite animal was a giraffe - tall and majestic, breathtaking but graceful, never quite blending into the crowd and commanding presence at every turn.

Guy’s teenage years were eventful. He was popular, sophisticated and beguiling. He excelled at sport and was bright but couldn’t be bothered much with school. He melted hearts and liked to party. Rebecca Forge was his first girlfriend - she was gorgeous, blonde and she broke his heart. I remember the night they broke up and through tides of tears, Guy played David Bowie’s song Sorrow on repeat on the record player in the loungeroom downstairs.

Guy lived large and with passion and he was acutely affected by those to whom he opened his heart. 

​At the tender age of 16, Guy left home and spent an extended time in Sydney. It was there he was exposed to the seedier side of life and the lights, hard drugs and grunge of Kings Cross. When he returned to Melbourne, he was street smart and worldly and any ounce of innocence was gone.

​Guy had an equal measure of guile and charm, but he also had a larrikin streak which usually emerged when he was cheering on his beloved Navy Blues. The flip side of this meant he was also a risk taker. This led him down the dark road of addiction and he struggled with drug and alcohol abuse for much of his adult life.

He grappled with the anguish of abandonment and was never able to overcome the misconception that he was unworthy of love. 

​Guy was a restless soul and didn’t ever settle into one profession - from his early beginnings as a model and his first steady job, as a maître de at the top end of town, to working at the stock exchange or creating his painting business with Will, his working life was full of colour and excitement.

His proudest professional achievement was graduating from film school at the Victorian College of the Arts, with the potential of a promising career.

Guy had an innate ability to connect with people from all walks of life and he was skilled at holding court in a crowd. Those who participated in his celebrated trivia nights can attest to his memorable performances.

Guy was most happy when he was in love and had many happy relationships, always with women who were beautiful in some way, and who, like him, all had gentle qualities.

​For someone who lived with so much inner pain and torment, Guy was still very giving, and gave what he could. Over time I hope to be able to teach Lucinda and Quincy about the enigmatic person their dad was and how he yearned to be part of their lives.

Guy missed them deeply, on every level, and spoke of them often. I want them to know how profoundly they were loved from afar and I would like to try to help them understand the man who was their father - something he wasn’t able to do.

​Life is precious and Guy was precious to those who knew him. The outpouring of widespread affection and love for Guy on hearing the news of his passing and the presence of you all here today is testament to the great impact he had on the lives of so many; there is no doubt that he has left his mark.

He was the only person who spelled my nickname, Loll, with a double ‘l’, and signed off every text message with - ‘thanks GL’. I will miss his laugh, his beautiful face, and his ability to weave his encyclopaedic knowledge into any conversation.

The mind and the perception behind those deep, thoughtful eyes is a loss to us all.

​Guy was many things to many different people, but to me, he has always been my big brother. I looked up to him when we were younger, but as the years progressed and our age became less relevant, I felt we were more on equal footing. Guy would often call to ask my advice or just to seek reassurance about how to handle a particular situation. I felt privileged that he sought my counsel and listened to my opinion and ultimately that he put his trust in me.

We shared a wonderful bond, one that was special, and it was a relationship like no other. I enjoyed our long, often late-night chats that meandered seamlessly from one topic to another about anything and everything. We challenged each other, rarely disagreed and I valued his perspective and his wisdom. He saw the world with clarity. He was remarkably astute and would regularly draw upon his extensive knowledge, which also meant he was infinitely interesting.

Spending time with Guy was never dull. As his health challenges progressed, I realised there was a gradual shift in our relationship, as he looked to me for guidance and assurance. It was a role I treated with great respect, even though at times it was a difficult burden to bear; I recognised that Guy needed to be protected from the world.

​Guy wore a silver ring on his finger until the day he died. It has an inscription in Latin on the inside that reads ‘amor vincit omnia’ - love conquers all. I wish that were true.

I loved Guy beyond words. He knew it and he loved me back with equal measure, but it still wasn’t enough to save him. I think deep down I hoped my love would be able to save him from himself, but in the end, it wasn’t. Nothing ever would have been enough to heal a heart broken when he was too young.

Varda, Guy and I have been through so much together over the years. We’ve ridden the waves of his good phases and his struggles, but we have always done it together and always with such love for one another.

I have experienced more than once a distressing phone call from a passer-by who had found Guy disorientated on the street, or fallen on the footpath and every time, I was so grateful for their kindness. I ask something of each of you who are here today - please don’t deride the downtrodden, the marginalised or dishevelled stranger you might pass on the street, but offer them compassion - a kind smile, a helping hand, a gesture of humanity. You don’t know their history, their struggle, their life. You are all here today because you knew a person who at times was just like that. He was my brother, Guy.

A beautiful, but tortured soul who only fulfilled a glimmer of his promise and lived a life none of us will ever really understand. He was our Guy, and we are all diminished without his bright light in our lives.

Guy was supported by many people over the years. Apart from Dud and I, in the last years of his life, there was a small core group in particular who never gave up on him - we will be eternally grateful to Sando and Michael for always being in the background, to Tiny for his kindness, generosity and regular visits, to Nif who didn’t ever let distance impede a truly enduring friendship and to Will, our brother in arms and the best, most loyal and true friend Guy could have asked for.

In different ways, each of you showed how much you cared and gave to Guy when he often couldn’t give anything back.

Although our little family of three is now a little family of two, Dud and I have a great extended family that surrounds us. We have been so touched and comforted by your shared outpouring of love and support. It has felt like a large, collective set of arms encircling us and has been very much appreciated.

So, to our very own beautiful, enigmatic, majestic giraffe, go gently and roam wild. Your spirit is now free. I will always love you, big brother of mine ❤️