The two men, who had dominated one of the most exhilarating and exhausting periods of Australian politics - which had also seen so much bitterness - had become something approaching great mates in later life. Apart from supporting some of the same causes, they would actually organise to meet up and talk.

So when Gough passed away, Malcolm was left alone with his cup of tea and memories. Now, after Fraser died peacefully early on Friday, there is no line left - broken or otherwise.

The aftermath of Whitlam's death last year was heavy on emotion. For many, Whitlam had symbolised Obamian-levels of hope, change and a modern Australia. And the eulogising focused on big reforms like the end of Australia's involvement in Vietnam, free education, Medibank/Medicare and equal pay for women. With Fraser, the response has been more cerebral.

He occupies a more ambivalent space in the pantheon. The Left like some of the things he did in government, but not that he did them as a Liberal. And they hate the fact that he ousted Gough to get there.

The Right don't like the fact that he has become one of the Liberal Party's biggest hecklers. And that he's no longer a member of the party anyway.

And yet, Fraser presided over significant reforms: from a huge intake of Vietnamese refugees, to the start of the SBS, the AFP, the Human Rights Commission and Indigenous land rights. And as many government MPs have been keen to point out, his time in government saw an important stabilisation of Australia's economic situation post the flurries of Whitlam.

It does not help Fraser's cause that he wasn't a catchcry machine like Whitlam (or even Rudd). And that he was a shy and reserved man. So much so that that when he turned up in a Memphis hotel with no pants on, the joke wasn't so much his state of undress but the fact that it was him.

Indeed, Fraser's not as boxable or embraceable as his other prime ministerial colleagues. No one's felt compelled to start a band bearing his name. Or write a musical about his political story. And his party most certainly does not trot him out like a latter-day saint during election campaigns or fundraisers.

And yet there is much to learn from and like in Fraser's tale. Together with Whitlam, he is living proof that you can reconcile with your political enemies. This is worth bearing in mind when we watch the Rudds, Gillards, Abbotts, Shortens et al scuffling in out in the current political production. What they do is undignified. But it is not necessarily permanent.

It is also worth pondering that if Whitlam and Fraser can patch things up, then maybe, regular old voters can take a more civilised approach next time they feel their blood boil over the dinner table or Twitter. Maybe.

Fraser is also an excellent example of a prime minister who did not retreat from politics and big issues after leaving Parliament.

In a mould similar to US presidents - who keep an elder-like presence - Fraser took on international roles to end apartheid and founded CARE Australia in the 1980s. In the 1990s, he campaigned for a republic, for a more inclusive society and criticised John Howard's approach to indigenous Australians and asylum seekers.

Fraser's rage didn't stop. It was amazingly revealed after his death that he was planning to start a new political party aimed at ending Australia's alliance with the United States.

What Fraser also shows us is that it is possible to change your views - to go from a Minister for Army who oversaw sending troops to Vietnam in the 1960s to opposing another US-led invasion in the 2000s and even the US alliance itself in next decade.

His critics would call this hypocrisy. Looking at it more optimistically, Fraser serves as an antidote to the current political climate that labels anyone who evolves their thinking a silly backflipper. We should be allowed to change our minds. Otherwise, what's the point of political debate?

Late in his life, Fraser took to Twitter with a grumpy vengeance not seen since Statler and Waldorf. While he is not alone on social media, most octogenarians are not regular tweeters. You could say the guy moved with the times.

The life and career of Malcolm Fraser is proof that first - and even second and third - impressions are not always fair or final. And that people can change.

Even if they are politicians.

Judith Ireland is a Fairfax Media journalist