My eulogy to Mary

Mary passed away on 23 September this year. I knew I had to speak at the funeral, and knew that if I failed to get it right I would regret it for the rest of my life. I wanted to convey the love of people and life that Mary had, and the sense I had (and will likely carry forever) of the futile unfairness of her death. I’m yet to meet someone who spoke ill of Mary and the great majority have stories of the positive influence she had on their lives. My words were not perfect, but I think I got this one right.

Just over a decade ago I stood in front of many of you and we said goodbye to Ellen. Mary and I never really had the opportunity to get to know Ellen, but the pain pierced our hearts.

I remember saying at Ellen’s funeral that our relationship was like a tree that was just starting to develop a wonderful canopy but now bore a scar where Ellen’s branch had been.

What has happened now? I don’t know what our tree looks like. I’m afraid to look. What will it become? Can we keep what’s left alive?

Maybe these are questions for a another time… Along with how am I going to remember all your birthdays… or buy you all the right gifts at the right time… or come up with those creative ideas to keep the kids entertained… or… I don’t know.. so many questions… incessantly nagging. Like the big one – Why.
Why Mary? But it’s meaningless…
Looking for meaning in something like this is like looking for a rhyme in a cookbook. You won’t find it and it will only bugger up your souffle. I came across this yesterday, it seemed to have the right mix of 1 part irreverence, 1 part humour, and 2 parts honesty that was Mary’s standard recipe.

I’m overdoing the cooking meme here – it wasn’t her favourite activity, but I have left out a key ingredient. Everything Mary gave was served with a generous helping of generosity.

Happier times.
I first remember meeting Mary when I was in my early teens. We both had a common friend Justin and we teamed up late in monopoly game to make sure Justin wouldn’t win. If I remember correctly she sold me all her property for a dollar. Or was it the other way around? Either way the metaphor works. We didn’t know it but that was just the way team trentandmary would work for 20 years.

Fast forward five years or so and we knew, via Justin, that were both starting the same engineering degree. And so along with Greg, Kelly, Catherine, Anita and Wendy we hung out together at Uni. And partied with my school mates (Scotty, Declan, Murray, Neil). Mary fitted in as if she was part of the St Peters Alumni. It wasn’t until second year, after a big night at the RE, followed by hill rolling with Anita and Scotty, that our seedling appeared and our love started to grow..

Mary graduated, with a great job at the Rio Tinto research centre in Melbourne. Our tree continued to grow despite the long distance between Melbourne and Brisbane. When she returned to Brisbane we traveled – China Thailand Malaysia – and got married in 1999. Bought a house, lived in suburban Brisbane, painted rooms, bussed to and from work together – so conventional… I ache for conventional now.

We moved to mt isa and enjoyed some of the happiest times of our life together. Exploring the isa and beyond with Bill, Linda, Grub, Siri, Rob, Kate, Theresa and Gerrard.

At that point in our lives, Mary became pregnant with Ellen she was looking so radiant at the end of her pregnancy.

But what odds would you have given me at that point if I told you over the next decade she would lose a child, suffer eclampsia that put her in a coma for four days. Have another two beautiful children but only after going through the trauma of receiving weekly ivig treatment from week 16 to avoid Harry and Cara suffering Ellen’s fate. And then to find herself back in a coma following a bicycle accident just when our tree was really starting to blossom. Two and a half years on Mary was well on the way to recovery. Our tree was gaining strength. And now this. What are the odds? I understand statistics, this isn’t about odds or meaning – each of our lives are unique, just as improbable as the other. But still enough already. It’s too much.

We loved our time in Townsville as we recovered from Ellen and saw Harry come into the world. Before moving back to Brisbane and the birth of Cara. We felt so lucky. Lucky also to be part of such a wonderful community here around St Ita’s. Mary really loved being part of this community it was very special to her.

I know not all of you were there but I’m so glad we were able to celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary and 40th birthdays earlier in the year. Mary had a wonderful time. But I’ve got a confession and here is probably a good place for it. That night was a wonderful opportunity for me to explain and tell everyone what a wonderful and beautiful person my wife was. And I didn’t do it. As soon as I sat down I thought of a hundred things I should have said to publicly declare again how much Mary meant to me. I didn’t worry too much though. The party was great we should be having these every 5 years for the next thirty! I’d save it for next time. I wouldn’t forget next time. But this is next time. she’s not here to hear me say it. There’s no next time.

Mary was and is part of me. The cliche is that there’s a hole in my heart. It’s not so simple. We were one. One word ‘trentandmary’ lowercase, no spaces. Take out a single letter and things get confused, takeaway the last four letters and the meaning vanishes. Our tree was one tree. One trunk that supported our interests our families our friends and our love. We meshed, lived, laughed and loved in the way that now she’s gone I’m not sure who I am.

I’ve spent a lot of time over the last 2 days looking at her photos. Her smile stands out. So beautiful, so confident, content, so happy in who she was. It was the same smile at age 1 and 40 and rarely wavered. Look closely at my smile in our early photos, it’s sorta awkward, unsure, uncertain. But then it changes. Mary taught me to smile. Taught me to love. Taught me it’s about people. But mostly to smile. Mary made me a better person.

So to you Mary, you were my best friend my love, my life. Your smile and laugh still echo. I can still feel the warmth of your hugs. Your whispers in my ear. I love you Mary. I’m so lost right now.

But I’m going to be OK right. Our two kids are wonderful. A reflection of you. I’ll make sure we don’t forget, how could we.

I asked Harry and Cara what they wanted everyone to know about mummy.

Harry wants you all to know that mummy was always lovely and helpful and fun to be around.

Cara wants you to know that mummy was the best mummy ever and that she gave the best cuddles. Ones you could really snuggle into.

But I need to talk directly to Cara now. Cara the police in New Zealand had to investigate how Mummy died. They told me how brave you were and how much love you showed to mummy by keeping her safe and going for help. I am so proud of you and so is everyone else here. You’re a hero.

Mary powered our family. I hope that Harry Cara and I are able to live up to her standards. Theresa told me to trust her that Mary and Ellen are now watching down on us. I’ve never been a big one for faith. Hope, on the other side of the coin though, has some solace. Hope is a verb. Hope I can do something with. Hope that I can do whatever it takes to raise our wonderful kids in a way that would make Mary proud.

Finally I want to say Thank-you
Thank-you to all of you who have come to say goodbye. Thankyou to those who cannot be here but are thinking of Mary.
Thank-you to my family, Thank-you to Mary’s family. A special thanks to Anita who was over in NZ with us only hours after her passing. Thank you to old school friends. Thank you to work friends, and a huge thank you to this St Ita’s community. I can’t tell you enough how much it means and helps. Over the coming days, weeks, months, years (who knows) I’m sure we’ll need your help and support. Please don’t ever hesitate to drop by or call or say hello or send an email. I’ll do my best to show the sort of love, friendship and generosity Mary always offered so freely.

The world has lost something special, we’ve lost someone special to us.We will miss you so very much Mary. I love you, we all love you.