We at Mind are deeply saddened and shocked to hear of the passing of our former colleague and dear friend, Andy Runeckles. Andy worked for many years at Mind in Bexley and was instrumental in developing our carers’ services. He was deeply loved by carers and colleagues alike. Andy drew on his own lived experience of mental health in everything he did. His empathy, humour, and determination shone through in every conversation and every piece of work. Tirelessly, he developed new services and pathways, strengthened links between primary and Oxleas secondary care, and—above all—championed the needs of all unpaid carers. Many of the systems and approaches that support carers across Bexley today still bear his unmistakable influence.
I had the great privilege of working very closely with Andy on the Carers in Mind Oral History Project, a truly innovative piece of work that captured carers’ voices in their own words. I remember so clearly the day we presented our findings to members and the local Bexley scrutiny committee. We decided, perhaps bravely, to play the raw audio recordings. Let’s just say there were a few unplanned “F-words,” and the councillors’ shocked expressions were absolutely priceless. Andy’s mischievous grin said it all. That moment of honesty, of truth-telling, was exactly what Andy stood for—real voices, honesty and real stories, no filter.
Through our collaboration, and through the voices of the carers we worked alongside, I was profoundly changed. Andy’s courage, compassion, and unwavering belief in carers’ rights reshaped my own understanding of what care really means. It is no exaggeration to say that this experience, and Andy’s influence, was life-changing. It remains one of the key reasons why carers are still very much at the heart of our strategic priorities today.
Andy was a man of immense warmth and complexity. A natural gifted storyteller and comedian, he had a razor-sharp wit and a gift for bringing people together through laughter. He was also deeply thoughtful, someone who could balance irreverence with insight in the same breath. Andy had an enduring love of film and cinema, especially all things James Bond. His collection of film memorabilia was legendary, and he could talk for hours about his favorite scenes, actors, and storylines. He had a particular fondness for aftershave, always perfectly applied, and an abiding affection for cats, who, like everyone else who knew him, adored him unconditionally. He also had a love of carrots...
He was a man who gave everything. Carers would often describe Andy as their “brick”—someone they could lean on, who would hold them up in their darkest moments. I remember so many times he would be the last one to leave the office, determined to make one last phone call to a carer in distress. That quiet dedication, done without fanfare, defined him.
Despite facing serious health challenges in recent years, Andy showed remarkable courage and humour. He faced each obstacle with the same resilience and kindness that defined his life and work.
We will miss Andy more than words can say, but we remain deeply depply grateful for the time we had with him, for his laughter, his wisdom, and his unwavering compassion. Mind in Bexley is a far far better organisation because of him.
Rest in peace, Andy—our very own 007.
With love and gratitude,
David xx
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