The man in seat 12C proposed. Susan didn’t react as expected

Falling for your mother’s funeral celebrant might be unusual, but there’s nothing run-of-the-mill about the romance between Richard Broug, 61, a senior manager at Paspaley, and Susan Gavran, 56.

“I was overwhelmed with feelings – grief at the loss of my mother and the end of my marriage,” says Richard, “but partly I was star-struck by Susan.”Credit: James Brickwood

Richard: In December 2018, just after my 20-year marriage ended, I made a trip to Austria. While I was away, I received a call telling me my elderly mother Mia had died. I flew home immediately and spoke to a funeral director, who recommended Susan as the celebrant.

Susan came to my house a few days later. I expected someone older, more matronly, but Susan had this aura: she radiated love and authenticity. As we talked about the service, I asked if she knew Edelweiss, the song my mother sang to me when I was little. Susan started singing it; she has the voice of an angel. I said to her, “I know it’s not in your job description, but could I give you a hug?” She jumped up and enfolded me in her arms.

At the funeral in January, Susan sang it again and there wasn’t a dry eye in the church. I was overwhelmed with feelings – grief at the loss of my mother and the end of my marriage – but partly I was star-struck by Susan.

I asked her out a few weeks later – to thank her, but I also had an ulterior motive. She took a bit of persuading – I was a grieving client and she didn’t want to cross any boundaries – but I wouldn’t take no for an answer. We had dinner at a Thai restaurant in Sydney’s Barangaroo and established a rapport right away. I immediately asked her out again.

In March 2019, I told her I was taking Mum’s ashes back to Austria and asked her to join me to do the service and sing Edelweiss again in the mountains. I was a man on a mission. So the following month we went on a whirlwind, two-week trip to Austria, Holland and Germany.

“I sent Susan a text message, seat to seat, asking her to marry me and she replied, ‘You’ve had too much to drink, not enough rest and you’re watching a soppy movie.’”

I wanted to marry her but not until my divorce was finalised, which happened last May. We decided to go back to Europe for a longer trip this time and, on the flight over, I watched Marry Me, starring Jennifer Lopez, and got quite emotional. I sent Susan a text message, seat to seat, asking her to marry me and she replied, “You’ve had too much to drink, not enough rest and you’re watching a soppy movie.” So then I secretly tasked the flight crew with making the following announcement over the PA: “The gentleman in seat 12C has just asked his partner to marry him and needs your encouragement to get her to say yes.” Susan looked up and saw the cabin crew standing there looking at her expectantly. When she said yes, the whole plane burst into applause.

I love that Susan’s unimpressed by wealth or status. She gets paid three times more for officiating at weddings, but prefers funerals because she feels she can make more of a difference. She thinks I’m extravagant: I wanted to buy a German garden umbrella that cost $3500, but she persuaded me to buy one from Bunnings for one-tenth of the price. It looks great, of course.

Susan is totally unique, with the most engaging smile. She exudes warmth and love, but has made one thing abundantly clear as we grow older together: she won’t do nappies!

Susan: My first impression was that Richard was tall, handsome and very self-assured. At that first meeting, he talked and talked; it was hard to keep him on track. I soon gathered that he wasn’t just grieving his mum but also the end of his marriage. He was quite needy: I had to go back several times to discuss funeral details, which I wouldn’t usually do.

I told him it wasn’t appropriate when he asked me out for dinner, but Richard is very persistent. At dinner, I tried to keep him at arm’s length. I was just out of a seven-year relationship and not in the head-space for a new one.

He said he would pay all my expenses when he invited me to Austria to scatter his mother’s ashes. My then 23-year-old daughter urged me to go and I said, “But I don’t know him. What if he murders me?” I finally agreed, but made it clear that it was important to me to be independent. One day we hired e-bikes and did the most spectacular ride into the snow-covered mountains. It was magical, one of the best days of my life. I fell in love with him.

When Richard proposed on the plane, I wasn’t expecting it. My first thought when I heard the announcement was “Not again!” because I’d heard of this happening. Then I looked up and saw Richard and the cabin crew looking at me. I kept thinking, “Of all the people I thought would propose to me beautifully, it would be Richard.” When we got back to Australia, he helicoptered us to a winery in the Yarra Valley and staged a second truly beautiful proposal.

“He’s extravagant on a daily basis and I like to show him that you don’t need to spend a lot of money on things to have a good time.”

Richard is a giver: he believes his role is to impart lessons he has learnt to the next generation. He has mentored my sons, now 28 and 26, teaching them to set goals and then work towards them. His team at work love him because he doesn’t just sit in an office: he’s actively involved, greeting clients at the door.

Richard gives me beautiful jewellery. This year, he took me down to the Paspaley vault to choose a strand of pearls from six he’d selected. They were lined up, all different sizes. I chose ones with a pink hue; I felt like a princess. I had a tough upbringing, growing up in Sydney’s western suburbs with a single mum. People used to throw rocks at our house and graffiti the car. I have to keep pinching myself.

He’s extravagant on a daily basis and I like to show him that you don’t need to spend a lot of money on things to have a good time. Early on, I took him to Kiama. He asked if we were staying at the Sebel Harbourside and I said, “No, we’re staying in an Airbnb.” I knew he was nervous. When we got there, it was a beautiful apartment overlooking the sea. He loved it. He said, “I’d never have chosen this.” I said, “I know.”

His snoring drives me insane, and the way he verbalises all his thoughts. Every time we walk into our home, he says, “I love our home.” I’m more quiet. He often says, “A penny for your thoughts” and I say, “So many I couldn’t even begin to tell you.”

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