KEY POINTS:
Hendrika Greenwood lovingly dabbed zinc on son Michael's already sunburnt face, then prepared to watch her adventurous eldest hang-glide off a Clevedon hill.
"That was the last thing I did for Michael - as he was."
It was 1976. Michael, a then-24-year-old qualified computer programmer who, according to father Gerald loved motorbikes, yachting, "and bloody hang-gliding", had invited his parents, siblings and wife of only three months to watch as he took to the sky.
They had already watched one flight. It came time for Michael's second go.
As his family watched and waited, thinking of getting out of the cold and to dinner, the wind suddenly shifted.
"He was just hovering above us, and all of a sudden... straight down," says Gerald.
Michael fell 25m. Although he wasn't killed, the accident ignited a long grieving process for his family.
Michael, 55, died 12 days ago of pneumonia, 32 years after the accident that left him paralysed on the right side, in a wheelchair, and with severe speech and cognitive deficits.
In the place of the confident, outdoorsy son determined to get ahead in life, was an "over six-foot" man needing almost as much care as a newborn.
The Greenwood family agreed to speak with the Herald on Sunday, in the hope it will bring about more understanding for those with brain injuries and the challenges their families go through.
"His siblings all found it really hard to cope," says Hendrika. "We all found it so hard."
Michael's young wife, a teacher, "took off" to Australia 12 months after the accident.
"We don't blame her really," says Gerald. "But it was still such a shock."
Tragically, Michael outlived his former wife - she died of breast cancer in 1996.
Hendrika suffered immense stress and eventually lost her job - there were the months visiting her son as he lay in a coma, four more years visiting him in Auckland Hospital, the stresses of finding somewhere he could get the 24-hour care he needed.
Gerald spent countless hours advocating for his son, trying to ensure he got the best care possible.
The couple couldn't care for him fulltime at home; the hospital had no room for him long-term.
He ended up in a rest home while still aged in his 20s.
It was difficult for his family, his mother in particular, to keep up a strong front during regular visits.
"I couldn't connect with Michael," she says. "It was not Michael any more. "When we visited, I felt awkward being there. And if I didn't go, I would feel so guilty and that was just as bad."
In the beginning the family visited every day, then every week then every fortnight. He always went home for Christmas Day and his birthday. He would have turned 56 last week.
Michael's four siblings visited to varying degrees, his parents say.
Despite the difficulties they could "still see his personality. He was very gentle and happy luckily," says his father, "because had he known how he was, he would have been difficult."
Although it was heartbreaking, their son couldn't call when something went wrong - he was once accidentally dropped from a taxi platform, suffering a broken hip.
Another time, caregivers left him on the toilet "too long" and he fell, breaking his upper leg.
It was 1996 when Michael started attending the Epsom Stewart Centre, a brain injury rehabilitation service where patients gather to take part in activities, lunch together, and hopefully improve their social and communication skills.
His parents say it was there he spoke his first proper words after the accident, one day piping up that he would "like a cup of tea".
Michael spent two days a week at the centre right up until his death.
Current manager Lisa Baird recalls him as a "witty" man, an attribute that shone through - despite the severe injuries.
Known at the centre as "Mr G", Michael was friendly, and would wheel himself off into the community to meet new friends if the staff weren't watching, says Baird. Like his parents she remembers him as gentle. He never spoke of his accident - showed no recognition of hang-gliding when shown a picture - and no-one at the centre was aware he had siblings.
Baird says those living with brain injuries suffer not only from their disability, but also from a lack of understanding.
"Clients talk about their frustrations at catching public transport," she says.
"It can be difficult mobility-wise for them to hop on a bus, and work out the money required."
While those who suffer an accident are covered by ACC, Baird says there is "tremendous" difficulty getting funding for people whose injury was "acquired" say through a stroke or tumour.
The Brain Injury Association offers advocacy, liaison and educational services - now provided for not only the person living with a brain injury, but also the family and wider community network.
This is something the Greenwoods would have appreciated in the direct aftermath of Michael's accident.
"We never received any support of any kind."
BRAIN INJURIES
* ACC reports 70 people a day in New Zealand suffer a traumatic brain injury - this includes concussion. Many cases are unreported or undiagnosed.
* Twenty people per day suffer their injury through medical events such as a stroke, aneurism or tumour.
* Sixty-two per cent are male. High-risk groups are under-fives, men aged 15-30 and older people.
* Common experiences of brain injury include memory loss, disorientation, loss of mobility, difficulty controlling emotions and personality changes.
* Causes of traumatic brain injury in New Zealand are road accidents - 50 per cent; sports/recreational injuries - 12-15 per cent; domestic/industrial falls/accidents - 20 per cent; assaults - 12-15 per cent.
