The words will come but it will never seem like I should be saying them. We have always known how important you are to us as a sister, a daughter, a wife, mother, niece, cousin, aunty and friend. Your un-ending generosity and limitless energy for us will always be remembered.
You were intelligent and beautiful yet you lived life without arrogance or vanity. You showed us that you can possess elegance and poise, and be deliciously daggy all at once. When you searched the mirror, you weren’t looking for a blemish to cover or wrinkle to smooth but reflecting on what you could do better as a person. You were so accepting of others and forever re-enforcing their confidence and ego, yet all the while travelling your path to self improvement. I don’t know one other person who has actualised as many ideas to help themselves grow.
And help others grow. A constant source of inspiration for others to kick off their own Italian language classes, cook something new, go to a gallery, get back into netball, go for a walk or leave a little note to remind someone how special they are. For someone who always went far and above the call of any duty – be it friendship, work or family related, that you were always inspired by the people around you and by seemingly insignificant things. You were always the first to make a fuss about someone’s achievements and always bold enough to start the hoo-haa. And you always remembered to tell everyone. In spite of a very long list of wonderful qualities to brag about, you did very little bragging.
An implementor and a deep thinker, you had already kicked off the action plan while everyone else was still considering options – you just did it. Organised and well planned, you tackled problems analytically and with fierce determination. Your positive attitude has always been maintained in the face of challenges – being negative was never on the radar. Growing up, you considered a career as a coroner even though you couldn’t stand the sight of blood and something as inoffensive as chewed up toast made you throw up (and get the day off school).
I love that you have always been sentimental and family oriented. You treat each and every member of our family, the Incolls and the families of your friends with trust and respect. Respect which is born out of a hard-earned respect for yourself. You take pride in each of your relationships, cherish and invest what-ever is required to make sure that others feel valued and important and special. You displayed an innate ability to relate to children and adults. Your advanced emotional maturity enabled you to quickly assess people and situations and to always deliver the right messages. I love that you love tradition and old school – pickled onions, relish, home-made sauce, all manner of craftiness, hand-me-downs, good old fashioned virtues such as honesty and integrity.
Your direct, down to earth disposition endeared you to friends, family and work colleagues and you have built strong bonds with people of all ages and walks of life. You had a charitable nature which benefited many – whether it be in your volunteer work or in your everyday relationships. Your absence has left many empty spaces which we will try to fill with cherished memories.
And Laugh – so good at it. You laughed even when it wasn’t that funny. Probably sometimes just to make us feel good but mostly because it took very little to get you going. You were always able to lighten the mood – sometimes intentionally and sometimes quite by accident. When Pop, Billy and Dad died, you were the first one to help us remember the funny stories and all the good times. I wish I had video tape of your first leadership team meeting at Melbourne path when in your just been promoted, got so much to offer keen-ness, you leant backwards on your chair and ended up tipping it over – legs in the air. And so brave to just get up again and soldier on. You loved it when others joined in on the joke but it didn’t stop you if they didn’t. We will miss laughing at you and with you.
My heart aches for your 8am drop ins when you would bring your kid to see my two and we would talk about anything or nothing. You would be too full to eat anything after breakfast with Nigel but Majella would be happy for her second round. My heart aches for our bake-offs, for the countless hours we have spent picking grapes together dreaming, arguing, competing and consoling, for being able to talk to you without having to be polite and know you wouldn’t be offended, for screaming at the top of our lungs to make the turkeys gobble at the show, for drinking way faster than me, for days camping, for getting home earliest to have first hack at the pickled leg in Mum’s fridge, for long drives together and boozey Christmas eves, for Mrs Red Pen, for skits in the loungeroom, for getting you out of trouble, for getting you into trouble, for getting into trouble with you, for communicating without talking, for not having done enough to make sure you know how much I love you and how much you have taught me.
We were similar in many ways and I know when these likenesses present we will remember fondly, but it will be our differences that I will find most painful to be without. It brings some solace that Billy was able to introduce you to Nigel and that in your husband and daughter you found true and absolute happiness. And I’m proud to have known you as my sister when you are loved and adored by so many. You were so good at celebrating others while you were here – I hope we can all spend some time celebrating you, and remember to celebrate each other as well.
Arivedici mia sorella molta bella, amica di tutti Goodbye my very beautiful sister, everyone’s friend.
The Monkey Face