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DAVID RICHARDS
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Some funerals are tragic affairs
A young life lost on the roads, a volunteer firefighter consumed by flames or a child succumbed to disease
This is not such an occasion
Mum’s stay at the crease was almost Bradmanesque
The one disparity was her absolute desire not to score a century
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I will, at times, refer to Loreyce as “Cookie”
At Tom’s funeral I was questioned by the celebrant as to whether this was flippant or dismissive
Quite to the contrary
As a man who had spent many years in the army and on the land, my father knew the cook was to be respected to the point of reverence
He would admonish Jon and me with the sage and solemn warning, “Don’t upset the Cook or we’ll all be in strife”
Interestingly, Cookie is the family nickname for HRH Elizabeth. Cookie was our queen
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Loreyce Bray was born to Lesley and Edith Bray (photo) at Monreith on April 18th 1918

Her formative years were spent in Norwood, Glenelg, Fullarton and later at the family home in Millswood Estate
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A child, like any other, there were moments of mischief
One day, she dared Frankie Trengrove, the boy next door, to poke his finger through the knot hole of the paling fence
Cookie latched on with a bite like a bulldog and refused to release her hapless victim
Frankie’s screams alerted two mothers who rushed outdoors to restore order
One administered first aid, the other, swift justice
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Cookie relished her years at Glenelg
She had free range of the low dunes separating the foreshore from the Patawolunga and became a confident swimmer in the total absence of instructors or over-zealous parents
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Loreyce’s education concluded at Unley High School
This was followed by a stint at Peacock’s School of Comptometry
Thereafter she worked for the Bureau of Statistics and for a further ten years with the South Australian Railways until resigning in December 1945
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During this period she undertook vocal training with Mrs Sarah Dutton as a mezze soprano
This was more than a past-time
Loreyce won The Advertiser Adelaide Eisteddfod, the ABC Aria, performed solo at The Adelaide Town Hall, secured solo roles in “The Messiah” as well as being a member of Holder Memorial Church choir
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It was at Holder Memorial that she met a young tenor, Tom Richards, who had joined the choir
One thing led to another and soon Loreyce was being driven home after services
On the first occasion she left her Hymnal in Tom’s car which, of course, necessitated an extra trip to Millswood to ensure its safe return
Mum swears this was a mere oversight
We have our doubts
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Loreyce sang live on ABC radio during the war
These were serious engagements in the days when evening news readers donned dinner suits before going to air
For one such performance, Tom, now an enterprising sergeant of signals awaiting deployment to Borneo, rigged up some equipment to hear her voice from 2,000 miles away
She had stolen his heart and when on a brief leave in Adelaide, they married
Cookie organised the wedding in four days flat
This was September 1943
They would not be re-united until Christmas Eve 1945
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Their union lasted a staggering 62 years
When asked by my daughters how they managed it, Tom, having a lend of them, planted tongue firmly in cheek and replied … “Easy, I haven’t listened to a word that woman said for sixty years”
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Hostilities concluded, it was time to build new lives
Loreyce’s singing career was shelved as they moved to the south-east for training in dairy farming and animal husbandry
Soon afterwards they purchased Lot 5 at Wood’s Point, just outside of Murray Bridge
I’m still amazed at the stories which come from this era
The home had no gas, no electricity and a solitary tap yielded running water
Light was by oil or kerosene lamp, meals cooked on a wood stove even at the height of summer
Cookie did the washing by hand in an old copper out the back
Their concession to mod-cons was the purchase of a kerosene fridge
During this time, both Jon and I arrived just to add to the demands on her day
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Mum related one anecdote about George, Tom’s Jersey bull
George was sold to a neighbour and a new bull was on George’s patch with George’s girls
This was beyond the pale, George’s dander was up so he broke through a dozen fences on a mission to eject the imposter
Tom was not nearby, Cookie sensed bloodshed and rushed out to avert a disaster
George was nonplussed when confronted by a trained voice at full volume and repeated volleys of limestone
He retreated
The emergency passed
As the saying goes …” it’s the fight in the dog that counts”
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Brown snakes that ventured onto the verandah or into the hallway of the house were terminated with a house broom
Decades later, she astonished my daughters when she discovered a rat in the backyard at Erindale
The offending rodent was no match for grandma and her broom
Jon and I could have attested to that
We had a healthy respect for when a mother, driven to distraction, armed herself with a jam spoon and headed in our direction
Some threats have substance
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These humorous snippets belie the remorseless nature and magnitude of the challenge they had accepted, even in the face of Tom’s war-induced illness
The resolve, resilience and sheer dogged determination of both parents to forge a better future seems immeasurable
They earned every penny, day in, day out, saved as much as possible and then had to sell
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The reward for endeavour and self-denial was our family home at Davenport Terrace which was purchased in 1956
We have great memories of a childhood in a secure, welcoming home fronting an expansive park run by a dedicated mother who ran a tight but abundant ship
We didn’t have everything but we had everything we needed
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Cookie had two green thumbs
From neglected, pedestrian beginnings, the garden flourished under her care
Orchids were her pride and joy
It was here that the impressive sprays greeting visitors to Erindale had their nascence
After two years of 'TLC' a single pot produced a solitary spike
It was whisked under the verandah and monitored like a premature baby
Jon and I were marched to the pot, shown the spike and informed … “If anything happens to that spike, I’ll spiflicate you boys”
A word to the wary was sufficient
It was win, win, win
The spike bloomed into a spray, we got live and her collection grew
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Flower arrangement was embraced as a hobby
Mum took courses and being smitten with the meticulous gene many of her works even impressed me
This also helped her for those times she was rostered to produce the flowers for the church
However, success here spawned a more sinister offspring called DRY flower arrangement
From that time forward any Sunday family drive through the hills was a euphemism for an expedition for the sighting and collection of copious desiccated plant structures
The call would go up ... “Tom, over there, stop, quick stop it’s a ….followed by something incomprehensible”
Unfailingly, this would occur on a narrow, winding road with little prospect of pulling over
Tom was patient
Jon and I glazed over and sat mute
The booty arrived home and was tied with old stockings and hung in the shed
That much vegetable material hanging in a shed these days would arouse suspicion!
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I recall a birthday party which saw the property swarming with young boys who were marshalled for the mandatory foot race around our substantial back yard
Cookie decided to compete despite howls of protest from Jon and me
Imagine the embarrassment of having your mother running after boys at your party
Protests dismissed, she fronted the starter and our shame was complete as Cookie showed the entire field a clean pair of heels
We never lived it down
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School holiday bus trips to the city were a regular fixture
Once we’d been taken to the dentist it was lunch at David Jones’, a session at the Globe Theatre or an excursion to the museum
These were fun and educational
Once scrubbed and dressed, Jon and I would be halted at the back gate for inspection
An unruly piece of hair would be pressed back into place, the backs of shoes would be tested for shine and any vegemite would be vigorously erased from a fast-reddening cheek with a bit of spit on a hanky
Insufferable to young boys at the time, the lessons about presentation and cleanliness became indelible
There were also reminders about hands out of pockets, to speak civilly, to stand for ladies in the bus and never to walk through a door in front of an adult
With maturity, I recognised those tribulations as a mother’s love in practice
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The years at Hazelwood Park seemed golden
Revolving around an unseen geocentre were her family, her home, her friends and Knightsbridge Baptist Church
Mum and dad both sang in the choir for over thirty years
Cookie was also a Deaconess, a Trojan in the lead up to the annual church jumble sale, helped out at the Illoura Baptist Home fetes, occasionally supported the West End Mission
Cookie even went to gaol, with the choir to sing Christmas carols to inmates
I don’t think this was her favourite singing engagement
I think her favourite time to sing was when the choir arrived at our home and piled into the drawing room of which she was immensely proud
John Wilsdon or Beryl Grosser would play the piano and before long every diaphragm would be pumping bellow-like lungs with an efficiency threatening to burst vocal chords
They sounded good but boy they kicked up a din
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The fellowship and strong friendships with fine people such as the Morgans, Bradfords Bills, Adcocks, Grossers, Tillets, Peakes, Millers and others scaffolded their lives as they worked together to make Knightsbridge a noteworthy and respected place of worship within the community
They were part and parcel of the rising thermal of social and economic optimism driven by capable, energetic adults in post-war baby-boom Australia
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During this period Cookie conquered her fear of flying and trips to Tasmania, New Zealand and eventually, Europe were taken
These holidays gave both parents cherished and shared memories they carried for years
Mum derived an enormous amount from travel as she would read the print off pages in travel and history articles so the hands-on experience breathed life into her knowledge
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To borrow one of Cookie’s favourite phrases, it wasn’t all beer and skittles
Tom’s health saw him as a regular at Daws Road Repatriation Hospital
On those occasions she would see us off to school, catch a bus to town, another to the hospital, spend time with Tom and return in time to greet us home and provide the evening meal
Our needs were never overlooked
Later in life when Tom was partially incapacitated by strokes, heedless of her own aging and diminutive size, Cookie boldly took it on herself to care for him at home for as long as she was able
We, and his doctors, are in no doubt that this added years to his life and enabled him to enjoy friends and family as well as see the arrival of his treasured grandchildren
For this, our family owes her a debt of gratitude
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In the few years after Tom’s passing, mum’s robust enthusiasm slowly eroded and self-assurance waned
We engaged Meals on Wheels and a cleaner and despite her own crowded schedule, Lesley stepped in, guiding Cookie through situations that she found intimidating, too complex to manage or too personal to share with sons
Mum was lavish in her praise, often saying to me ... “You know, Lesley is just marvellous. She’ll breeze in and straighten out the paper work or take me to the doctor and nothing is too much bother”
This eulogy would be incomplete without recognising, with heart-felt gratitude the selfless service Lesley provided in circumstances that were at times exasperating
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Several falls alarmed us and with the thought that Cookie was no longer safe, a placement at Clayton Homes was secured
The facility, catering and staff were all top notch and we could not have asked for better
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But then arrives what the German philosopher, Gleitzman, poignantly and insightfully describes as ... “The melancholy of all things done”
Mum was a doer
Unable to perform any function she saw as useful or productive, her motivation diminished as did her memory
She regularly expressed the desire to be done with it all and last week, after a short illness, she passed
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And so, we bid Loreyce, mum, Cookie and grandma farewell
We have been blessed by the life of this lady whose time was characterised by selfless dedication to Tom and their aspirations
He worshipped the ground she walked on and, trust me, he listened to her for every single one of those sixty two years of marriage
Her immediate and extended family, which grew to include six grandchildren and four great grandchildren, was the most important thing in the world
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A long life ... An interesting life ... A worthy life
She lives in our hearts, always treasured

TANYA RICHARDS
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Firstly, I'd like to thank my sister Kate/Sarah for reading this for me, as, sadly, distance does not allow me to be with you today to remember Grandma in person
She was a special lady, not least of all by virtue of her unusually long and healthy life of 94 years, during a full 32 of which I was fortunate enough to have called her my Grandma
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Many memories of Grandma have come back to my mind in recent days, most of them from my childhood, a time during which both Grandma and Grandpa were important people who provided the love and guidance all children need
Memories of Grandma's pale blue eyes that sparkled with keen intelligence - and sometimes with mischief - behind her thick-rimmed glasses
Of her soft hands and her jar of crossword pencils with the smudgy rubber bands wrapped around their ends - a reminder that Grandma was born in a different era when you made do with what you had
I remember with fondness Grandma’s and Grandpa's sunken but comfortable matching armchairs, cold Woody's lemonade from the fridge on a hot day and the lolly jars kept on the shelf of the low, white bookcase in the "den", as Grandma called it, that we couldn't wait to dive a hand into as kids
Cups of milky tea, ginger biscuits and jars of Grandma's homemade "nuts and bolts" at Christmastime
The careful, measured, block-print handwriting she always used for labels that was so unmistakably hers and that reflected her steadfast, orderly personality
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A well-tended garden full of orchids behind the homely, redbrick unit at Stanley Street, where we were always welcome
"Hello, love!" Grandma would always say with joy and excitement in her voice when she opened the door to see us standing there, and would cup our cheeks in her hands as she kissed each of our foreheads
"You'd better come in"
She was a grandmother who spoiled her grandchildren a little, and loved them a lot
What more could we have asked for?
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Wise King Solomon wrote at Ecclesiastes 7:1: "A name is better than good oil, and the day of death than the day of one's being born"
On a day like today, when we feel sadness and loss - when it feels like a special era has come to an end with the passing of the last of an older generation of our family, a generation that lived through such different times than we do now, but that nonetheless meaningfully shaped who we are today - Solomon's thought is difficult to comprehend
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I would have been happy for Grandma to keep living, and I know I'm not alone in feeling that way, not least of all until I was able to come home and see her again in January
But it wasn't to be
And yet, I see the wisdom in Solomon's words, because I feel, as I am sure we all do, that - for all the sadness and grief we feel at her passing - the sum of all of the fond memories and the good that Grandma did and the love she showed us is the greater of the two halves
In living her life, although that inevitably also meant its end, Grandma gave us all a great deal
Some people define a good life as a long one lived in good health, and Grandma certainly achieved that better than most
But, in my eyes, the truest hallmark of having lived a good life is that the grief those who loved you feel when it ends is outweighed - yes, even overtaken - by the gratitude and appreciation they feel for the way you used it in their behalf
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So, thank you, Grandma
We are sad, but we are all the more joyful for having had you in our lives these many years
We love and will miss you until we meet again
“For if our faith is that Jesus died and rose again, so, too, those who have fallen asleep in death through Jesus, God will bring with him” - 1 Thessalonians 4:13
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