Dialogue
Issue 62 Summer 2013
WN BULL
Dialogue
Contents
Issue 62 Summer 2013
WN BULL
Issue 62 Summer 2013
Editorial
Editorial Office:
164 King Street,
Newtown NSW 2042
Phone:(02) 9519 5344
Fax: (02) 9519 4310
Email:wnbull@wnbull.com
Web:www.wnbull.com.au
Member of InvoCare Australia Pty Limited
ABN: 22 060 060 031
Dialogue Publications
Regulars
1Editorial
22
Recommended Reading
24
Poet’s Corner
© 2013
Dialogue is published quarterly by
Features
Dialogue Publications
2
Not a Grief Counsellor, Not a
Psychologist . . . A Spiritual Director
5
'A Legacy Passed on and Kept Alive'
Editorial Board:
Richard White
Patsy Healy
Greg Bisset
6
Remembering Those Special Days
9
Coping with Grief at Christmas Time
10
This Old House
Production:
Phillip Pavich
Email: phillip@depotspot.com
12
How Families Were Made
14
An Award that “Means Everything”
18
Letters to the Editor
Copies of Dialogue
can be obtained by
calling (02) 9519 5344
20
To Bury the Dead A Work of Mercy
ISSN: 1832-8474
- a publishing division of
WN Bull Funerals
Cover image:
Fresco of Nativity scene by Karl von Blaas
It’s Christmas again and I find myself revisiting the
Christmas story. I am sure that even in the most Santa
infested celebrations, there is something of this original and
mysterious event.
And, there are three things I want to say about Christmas
and they are relevant to this edition and maybe every
edition of Dialogue.
The first is that this story is about care and wonder. A
mother and child and a protective father is the central, iconic
image. Helplessness and care go together; vulnerability
and concern go together. Then, there’s the star that guided
the Wise Men and which crowns the top of so many
Christmas trees. ‘Star of wonder, star of night, star of untold
beauty bright . .
If I believe, even in the face of all the sadnesses and
tragedies of human life, that at the heart of this human life
there is present an infinite care and countless miracles, a
veritable myriad of stars, then this Christmas story will be
told and always told. And, the darkness would be pushed
back and hope would live. That’s what a story like this
can do.
Dialogue, and this edition is no exception, is about the
telling of stories. Doris Zagdnaski is a great story-teller as
well as a wise bereavement counsellor. Her treatment of
Christmas and grief can ‘push back the darkness’ a little
and open the way to hope and new life. Cecile Yazbek and
Wendy Starkie, from different parts of the world, tell stories
about home and family that touch the sadness of loss and
of leaving.
Richard White
The affection that surrounds the house and the parting,
the loving remembering, comes from a heart-taught
capacity to care. And, the conversation with Sue Dunbar
and explanation of spiritual direction takes us to the care-ful
listening that allows the heart to speak and be heard.
The two articles relating to WN Bull Funerals, the one by
Greg Bisset, COO of InvoCare, and the one about the Good
Samaritan Foundation Scholarship describe in different ways
the interweaving of the commercial enterprise and the
wider community. Such support and involvement enrich
all concerned.
Then, there’s the celebration of Steve Ross’ becoming a
Fellow Embalmer of the Australian Institute of Embalmers
and the recognition of personal achievement as well as the
quality of care offered by WN Bull Funerals.
Finally, almost, there is the delightful whimsy of Erica
Greenop. Erica has fun with words and with stories
and laughter and smiles are stars in human form and
the flowering of hope, a mixed metaphor for which I
beg forgiveness.
This edition has a couple of Letters to the Editor. It has
been suggested that such a feature would give the Editorial
Board and writers the possibility of feed-back and enhance
the nature and service of the magazine.
Wishing you and all who invite, and create, care and
wonder in your lives a blessed Christmas!
From all of us at WN Bull Funerals.
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
1
sense of their chaotic feelings. Helping people to realise
that they were not going mad was an important part of
our meetings. Sustaining them as they struggled with
the emotional impact of loss and the finality of death,
was important too. I think this is what a bereavement
counsellor does.
I know counsellors, too, who come to recognise
patterns in people’s grief that are deep seated and
distressing and persistent. They come to a stage where
they believe someone needs more specialised help and
refer a client to a psychologist or a psychiatrist. Such
a referral may well be part of a treatment regime that
allows for progressive and collaborative care. But,
as Sue talked about spiritual direction and grief, I
began to see that there were some difficulties with the
counsellor-psychologist-psychiatrist model.
Despite the countless skilled and compassionate
professionals in all three approaches to grief and grieving
people, one cannot help but feel uneasy about seeing grief
as a problem. It certainly is a painful and often disruptive
experience in people’s lives. It can be crippling and
long lasting. But, the conscious or unconscious desire to
alleviate or remove the pain and to cure the grief can be
Not a Grief Counsellor, Not a Psychologist . . .
A Spiritual Director
written by Richard White
This article is inspired by a series of conversations with Sue Dunbar. Sue is Director of Barnabas
Ministries Inc, a not for profit, incorporated ministry, in Canberra. We began our conversation at the
annual conference of the Australian Network for Spiritual Direction. The question of grief came up
and I asked Sue about her experience of working with grieving people, as a spiritual director. I came
away from that conversation a little clearer about the roles different people might play in addressing
our emotional, psychological and spiritual needs.
In my seven or so years as Director of Bereavement Services
with WN Bull Funerals, I attended a number of conferences
and workshops on grief and bereavement. Often the
presenters were well known names from the United States
or Europe.
Like Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, with her Five Stages, there
were helpful theories or models that became associated
with particular people – The Dual Process Model,
Continuing Bonds, Grief Work, Meaning Reconstruction,
Disenfranchised Grief . . . And there were research studies
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Issue 62 | Summer 2013
that identified groups of people who were particularly prone
to Complicated Grief and other disabling conditions.
All of the above was taken very seriously, by both the
presenters and many in the audience. I soon realised that
I would come away from these conferences with a dull
feeling of incompetence. I am not a researcher and I was
often bamboozled by the arguments and counter arguments
that seemed necessary to win acceptance for a theory.
What I did appreciate in my conversations with grieving
people was that some of these theories seemed to make
Sue used this expression, when speaking of grief, ‘a door
has shut’. I had the image of a door slamming, finality,
violent, noisy. Sue gave the example of locking her keys
in the car. There was that split second, just before the
door closed and locked, of seeing the keys in the ignition,
The person I was before
a death or a significant
loss is no more. I am
not the same. . .
powerless to prevent the inevitable. Bang! And the long
wait for the NRMA begins. We cannot turn the clock back.
We cannot go back, either. The person I was before
a death or a significant loss is no more. I am not the
same. Life has changed and I have changed. And, these
changes bring fear and confusion and those wild, desperate
questions uttered by my friend, ‘What have I done?’
The emotions and the
psyche are only part of
the picture. What about
the soul, that part of us
that is deeper than our
emotions and our pain.
limited in both intent and efficacy. Sue was not saying this
when I talked with her, but how she spoke about spiritual
direction led me to this conclusion. The emotions and
the psyche are only part of the picture. What about the
soul, that part of us that is deeper than our emotions and
our pain.
Recently I was speaking with a woman who
had experienced considerable grief in her life. But,
professionally and personally there were signs that she was
turning a corner. Things were on the improve and she was
feeling better. Then, a long standing condition flared again.
There was the possibility that those gains would all be lost.
‘What have I done? Am I not meant to have peace and
happiness in my life?’ These are not questions that have
an answer. We all know people who are rarely assured by
reassurances. These are cries of pain before they are cries
for help. There was an opening. There was hope. Now the
door has closed again.
They are cries from the heart to the heart. I sensed that
this was what Sue was saying. She spoke of the spiritual
director having ‘hospitality of the heart’. Like her image of
the door closing, and the experience of finality, ‘hospitality
of the heart’ called forth images, in this case of welcome,
acceptance . . . patience.
I am reminded of George Herbert’s poem, ‘Love’.
Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin,
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack’d anything. . .
This hospitality allows a person to cry out. The welcome
and acceptance enables someone to feel and know the
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
3
finality of loss, the door slammed shut and all that this
means. Such experiences are more than emotions and
psychological crises, although they may include all of this.
To know this sense of loss, to know there is no turning
back is to bring one to one’s knees, figuratively and literally.
To find welcome and companionship at this time is a
precious gift.
A LEGACY
By being present and
patient, loving and
believing, the spiritual
director can assist in the
birth of new life.
If the spiritual director can maintain that ‘hospitality
of the heart’ there is no anxious concern about curing or
removing the pain. All the pain and confusion is given
welcome. All of the person is given welcome. Then, there
is the possibility of new life.
Sue’s faith is based on the foundational Christian belief
of death and new life, the pattern that is stamped on our
lives, deeper than DNA. But, there is no easy path to
this fundamental movement. Death is always final and
sometimes shocking, painful. Of its very nature, death and
all those mini dyings that are part of our lives, have the door
closing reality. ‘It is over. There is no going back’.
It requires considerable faith and courage to be a
spiritual director. The resistance and fear voiced by the
person who comes is echoed in their own life and heart.
These are matters of the heart and soul. They are not to be
‘cured’. They are to be lived and shared and understood.
This is the work of the spiritual director. This is a person
who believes that a new self and new life can emerge from
every death experience. It is a delicate and sensitive role.
The spiritual director needs to affirm or witness that the
upheaval of death-and-life is the source of the distress
experienced by the person. Those cries have no answer. By
being present and patient, loving and believing, the spiritual
director can assist in the birth of new life.
The conversation with Sue has not finished. But, I think
the ways in which Sue spoke about spiritual direction and
grief opened up ways of thinking about this all-too-human
experience. I was also encouraged and enlightened about
a practice, spiritual direction, that I thought I understood.
PASSED ON AND KEPT ALIVE
written by Greg Bisset
John Harris, the former owner of WN Bull Funerals earned the
respect of the funeral industy and the community. John was an
insightful and compassionate funeral conductor. He was also the
consummate business man. The ongoing success of WN Bull
Funerals is due in no small measure to John and his wife Agnes’
hard work and understanding of the funeral business. Although
retired, John retains an interest in the business world and in
WN Bull in particular.
The following article, written by Greg Bisset, Chief Operating Office of InvoCare,
the current owners of WN Bull, describes the breadth and community interest of
InvoCare and of Patsy Healy, General Manager of WN Bull. John Harris’ presence
at the business lunch is an assurance that his experience and business acumen
Editor
continues to be available to his successors.
Specialists in Funeral Stationery
Design and Printing
Order of Service Booklets
Return Thanks and Memorial Cards
Natalie and Cheryl offer a
personalised service to make this
difficult time a little easier for the family.
We will come to the family home to
assist with the order of service booklets
or memorial cards for the funeral.
We can also offer this assistance via email.
For convenience, we personally
deliver to the funeral director.
Sue Dunbar and Barnabas Ministries
Inc can be contacted:
Phone: 02 6295 6766
Email: suedunbar53@yahoo.com;
Web: www.barnabasministries.org.au
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Issue 62 | Summer 2013
8814 7896 or 0431 360 404
purelight@bigpond.com
J
ohn Harris (former owner of
WN Bull), Patsy Healy, General
Manager, and Greg Bisset, COO
of InvoCare, recently attended the
Sydney Catholic Business Network’s
(SCBN) lunch at the Sydney Hilton,
which featured keynote speaker,
Kathryn Greiner AO, on the topic of
“If 70 is the new 50, why aren’t more
of us in the workforce: The impact of
ageing baby boomers”.
Recently appointed as Chair
of the NSW Ministerial Advisory
Committee on Aging (MACA), Kathryn
has distinguished herself in a career
taking in fields as diverse as social
work, business and local government.
With the breadth of her experience
and her passion for this topic clear in
her words, Kathryn spoke eloquently
about the reality of an ageing
population, and about creating a
work-life balance in a workforce still
acclimatising to the changing role of
mature workers.
We are now living longer than
ever before, and any plans we once
had about long retirements are being
challenged by cost of living pressures,
that mean we may have to work
a lot longer than anticipated. This
raises all sorts of questions about the
Mature workers
are repositories
of knowledge
and experience
that make
them extremely
valuable to
employers.
accessibility and workplace equity that
is currently extended to older workers.
CCO of InvoCare, Greg Bisset with
Patsy Healy and John Harris
Mature workers are repositories of
knowledge and experience that make
them extremely valuable to employers;
they are able to inject significant
value into an organisation yet are in
need of a range of work-life balance
measures that accommodates their
passions, interests and unique family
responsibilities.
WN Bull and InvoCare, as a
Department of Education, Employment
and Workplace Relations’ Corporate
Champion for mature age workers,
greatly value the contribution older
workers can make to corporate life.
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
5
are reminding them – they haven’t forgotten they once
had a mother, a husband or a child!
Or you can endorse and support the idea of doing
something to remember – going to a favourite place that
was shared with the deceased, having a family meal and
serving something which the deceased always loved,
lighting a candle at church in their memory, lighting a
candle at home beside their photograph, baking a birthday
cake and sing a round of ‘Happy Birthday to you’.
If you are aware that a significant date is coming up
for a friend, the lead up to this time is often worse for the
bereaved than the day itself. So a visitor who calls in for
a chat, or brings along a bunch of flowers or a six-pack
of beer can be a welcome sight.
REMEMBERING
THOSE SPECIAL DAYS
written by Doris Zagdanski
My friend organised a BBQ on the first
anniversary and she brought the beetroot –
because my husband never had a barbie without
beetroot.
One evening at dinner, my husband suggested
we make some plans to include our daughter
Ashleigh in our traditional Easter celebrations.
Our two sons were delighted and it also opened
As I’m writing this, the world is remembering President John F Kennedy – it is 50 years since
his death on 20 November 1963. It’s in the newspapers, on every news channel and all over
the internet.
I have often wondered why it’s acceptable to openly
remember public figures or wartime deaths or those
which resulted from natural disasters, terrorism or
large scale accidents. Barely a year goes by that we
are not reminded of the anniversary of the deaths of
Elvis Presley, John Lennon, Princess Diana and like now,
JFK. But in our own lives, remembering and observing
the death of someone close to you is meant to be a
private event. You should be trying to forget. You have
to move on. You can’t live in the past. We have many
ways of encouraging grieving people to keep their grief
to themselves.
With JFK’s anniversary behind us and the festive
season almost upon us, it’s timely to talk about how
grieving people can observe special days on the
calendar. These are the days that come around every
year, bringing with them reminders, memories and very
often a silent vigil of remembrance.
“In those first few years I watched the
calendar like a hawk. It was telling me how long
we’d lived without her. That first anniversary was
the pits, but the second and third weren’t much
better. When the actual day came it wasn’t as bad
as the days of my private count down …”
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Issue 62 | Summer 2013
Birthdays, a wedding anniversary, festive times like
Christmas, Easter and Mother’s Day and Father’s Day,
holidays, the anniversary of the death and more are
significant days for most grieving people. By allowing
a grieving friend to openly remember on these days
we do something beneficial for them. We actually join
them in saying, ‘This person mattered’ or ‘This person
was really special to you.’ After all, if we allow people
to remember a tragedy that occurred in some other part
of the world or if we celebrate the memory of a pop star
or some public figure who we didn’t even know, why
is it so odd that a friend should want to remember their
child, partner, parent, whoever?
You know what I think? Outsiders believe that the
bereaved are remembering the death, and dwelling
on their grief. Sure, they can’t forget what happened
nor the person who died, but I believe what they want
to remember, talk about and celebrate is what that
person meant to me. They are remembering someone
who mattered. Remembering in itself, is not a sign of
unresolved grief. For some grieving people it is as much
a mark of respect as it is an annual observance.
So what can a friend do? You can make a phone call
or send a note which says, ‘I remember too.’ You don’t
have to worry about upsetting your friend because you
up all new avenues to remember their sister. I can
remember the tension lifting as we spoke of our
ideas … (the boys) dyed Easter eggs and lovingly
decorated two for their sister … we ordered a
beautiful posy of pink and white flowers for her
grave … we all said some special words, shed
some tears …We went on to celebrate together,
speaking freely for the first time in many months.
Whilst the cemetery can be a focal place for family
to gather to remember, some people choose not to be
frequent cemetery visitors – and this should not be
criticised either. You don’t need a trip to the cemetery
to show you’ve remembered.
Thinking of my own experience, I can still remember
the first Christmas without our daughter Claire who died
suddenly six months earlier from cot death. Though
it was 1980 it’s still etched in my mind. Our family
gathered as we always do and I can still see us around
the dinner table trying to be ‘normal’ and not focus
on who was missing. I just wish someone would have
said her name aloud and mentioned what we were all
thinking as we pushed our meal around our plates. We
When experience counts
Celebrating
A PREPAID FUNERAL
In the 120 years WN Bull Funerals has been serving the people of Sydney there
has been significant growth and change in the community. We are proud to
have been able to readily adapt to these changes and remain compassionate,
sensitive and responsive to the needs and wishes of our client families.
WN Bull is especially proud of its heritage of providing real comfort and care
when caring for the deceased and their families. This care extends to the
recommendation of prepaid funeral plans.
A prepaid WN Bull funeral will assist family members and ensure that every
detail is attended to.
When the care you seek is unconditional – talk to us.
Dialogue ad_PREPAID_1.indd 1
(02) 9519 5344 wnbull@wnbull.com
www.wnbull.com.au
7
14/09/12 3:15 PM
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
always say Grace at the dinner table – I’d have liked
our prayer of thanksgiving to have mentioned her name
too – anything would have been preferable to that
eerie silence that hung over us. I wish I had been brave
enough to speak up myself but there was a huge lump
in my throat and I didn’t want to upset everyone else,
especially the little ones around the table.
So when my father died three years ago, I made a
candle for my Mum to sit right in the middle of the
Christmas table. I’m definitely not artistic but I wrote his
name in gold on it and decorated it with some beautiful
gold edging I found in a craft shop. It was hard not
having Dad there, but this time I was going to make sure
we didn’t sit in silence at the table he loved to share with
us and how different it was to be able to openly speak
of him and acknowledge how we all missed him – and
raise a glass in honour of him.
So with thoughts of Christmas looming, I’m going to
quote from the weekly magazine ‘New Yorker’, where the
journalist Richard Rovere wrote at the time of JFK’s death:
‘The death of a President enters the house and
becomes a death in the family... No other public
death produces so personal an alteration in
one’s world.’
A few weeks later at Christmas time, another
journalist John Updike, walked down the streets of
Fifth Avenue looking for this alteration, this ‘invisible
difference’, between that Christmas and all others. He
noticed the flags were still at half-mast and all grey from
rubbing against sooty building facades. Then, looking at
the crowds in front of St Patrick’s cathedral, he realised
what was different about this year – “people are not
determined to be jolly, they do not feel obliged to smile.”
He wrote: “the sudden death of our young President was
reflected in immobile faces around the city; it had taught
them that a human face may refuse or fail to smile but
still be human.”
For many people around us this year, their private,
invisible flags with be flying at half-mast for their own loved
ones who aren’t here. If you know of anyone who’s lonely
this Christmas, who will struggle to smile and is feeling sad,
anyone who’s missing someone, or who’s going to be alone
on Christmas Day, pick up the phone, invite them around,
show them you care … because it’s Christmas.
This article has been adapted
from the book Stuck For Words
by Doris Zagdanski © 1994
16
coping with grief at Christmas time
Doris Zagdanski BA Dip Ed
For some, Christmas is not the time to be jolly.
For some people, this Christmas will be filled with sad
memories of someone close who is no longer here.
Facing your first Christmas without someone you love can be a very lonely and daunting time.
There may be expectations that you will put up the Christmas tree, send out greeting cards, go out
Christmas shopping and join family and friends for Christmas dinner...especially because others want
to see you coping and moving on.
But when you’re grieving this can be really difficult. You may have no inclination or energy to
‘pretend’ that you are looking forward to Christmas when in truth you wish things were the way they
were last year - when you were still together with your loved one.
On the other hand, some people want to handle Christmas time by doing things in the same way
as always - not changing anything and keeping to the same routines and family rituals. Keeping to
the familiar gives them comfort. Allow yourself to have fun. It doesn't mean you've forgotten the
person or that your grief for them is over.
When you’re grieving, everyone handles their emotions and reactions differently. Here are
three tips if you’re facing the dilemma of how to handle this Christmas:
1.
Give yourself permission not to do the things that you’re finding hard to do - writing Christmas
cards, putting up the tree, going to Christmas parties - it’s alright to let these go this year or
next, until you can cope with social events again.
2.
Make a point of remembering your loved one in a special way - light a candle for them on
Christmas Day, place an ornament on the Christmas tree to symbolise them, buy a gift for a
needy child or family in place of the gift you would have bought.
3.
Allow yourself to grieve - the days leading up to Christmas (and other significant days on the
calendar) can heighten your grief. Seeing other couples and families together just hurts.
Seeing the empty place at the Christmas table will be hard to bear. It’s alright to cry and let
people know that it’s hard living without someone special. Try not to bottle up your feelings.
Now’s the time to tell a close friend that you’re struggling to put on a happy face and that
you'd appreciate their company or simply their listening ear for support.
And if you know someone who is grieving this Christmas, give them a call, write them a special
card, invite them over for a quiet get together, speak up and acknowledge their loss, and have the
courage to mention the name of their loved one … and let them know that you understand that it may
be a hard time for them because it’s Christmas… and there are memory triggers everywhere of a
missing face, an empty chair and silent thoughts of the way Christmas used to be.
Doris Zagdanski is a leading figure in modern day grief and loss education. Her seminars are included in
vocational qualifications in Allied Health, Counselling and Funeral Directing. Her books and free
factsheets are available at www.allaboutgrief.com
© Copyright Doris Zagdanski, 2013.
Re-produced with kind permission of the author for www.mygriefassist.com.au - a community service initiative by InvoCare.
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Issue 62 | Summer 2013
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
9
all the legal stuff, the clearing out and the small but
important things Mam had asked to be done with friends
and neighbours. Suddenly it was time for us to leave and
return home. Suddenly it dawned on us that we were
leaving our home for the last time. We could never again
just arrive and be welcome. No longer was it our house,
our home. It was empty; it would belong to someone else.
They would not know or care who we were or what the
history of the house was.
I felt my deepest roots had been hacked away. I was
afraid; I had nowhere to run to as a base, no refuge any
more. I cried so much for that old stone terrace. I have
travelled and lived all around the world. I always felt
confident because I had that home to run back to if things
went wrong as indeed they did from time to time. Now it
was gone forever and I felt bereft.
It had a bathroom and kitchen from 1963. The shower
dribbled lukewarm water; the loo flushed like thunder for
ages. The kitchen was so small we called it a one bum
kitchen. There was not room for two people to cook
together. The living room was so small that more than three
people meant we had to go into the lounge room to sit.
Over six and we had to use both rooms. We ate at a table
pushed up against the wall and as I was the smallest (later
the most agile) I had to crawl under the table to get to the
fourth seat.
This Old House
written by Wendy Starkie
My mother died in May. She was ninety-nine years old and had had a good life as they say. She passed
away a hundred metres from where she was born in Stanley, UK. She felt her life had come full circle.
In many ways I felt I was prepared for her passing but I
was wrong. When my brother Jim and I got together in the
house where we had lived all our formative years, we were
each concerned for the other. We knew Mam was being
well cared for but she had chosen to pass and we knew we
had to let her go. Our priority was for each other. Even
though we never spoke of it, we both just knew. After all,
there are only two of us.
Jim lives in Vancouver Island, Canada, and has a wife,
children and grandchildren. They will always be there for
him. I live in Sydney, Australia, and am a widow with no
children. I suddenly realised how alone I am in the world.
I have friends but they have families, which must come first.
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Issue 62 | Summer 2013
The aloneness was almost overwhelming. The need for time
to talk and be in touch with blood relatives was urgent. I
realised Jim sensed my need and felt the same.
We had to prepare for the funeral, clear out the
house, check all sorts of documents, and arrange things
with the lawyer and real estate agent. It was very hectic
and immensely stressful yet somehow Jim and I got on
and worked together better than ever before. There was
so much to do but we prioritised and it worked. We
recognised each other’s strengths and let each other lead as
appropriate. In all the emotional turmoil, stress and chaos
we communicated better than ever.
Mam passed and the service went well. We managed
I remembered as a child having to go over the yard to the
toilet as we did not have an inside toilet. Very inconvenient
and scary in the middle of the night especially in British
winter!! I recalled squishing up in the settee to watch
this new thing called television. It seemed to blow valves
every week.
I remembered watching Newcastle United win FA Cup
Final and all the men acting as if they had played every
kick. I recall watching the coronation, which we had all
heard about but the ordinary people had never witnessed.
I laughed recalling my parents trying to get the Christmas
gifts down from the top of the wardrobe where they were
always ‘hidden’. My mother shushing my dad who was full
of Christmas cheer and so not his usually coordinated self.
Walking away from
that old, cramped,
inconvenient house was
unlike any pain I had
ever felt. It was deep and
sharp. Since then I have
felt strangely adrift.
My brother and I laughing under the bedcovers, trying not
to make a noise and so spoil the illusion.
Walking away from that old, cramped, inconvenient
house was unlike any pain I had ever felt. It was deep
and sharp. Since then I have felt strangely adrift. Part of
this is grief of losing my mother but the pain of losing my
house is another, larger element and one which I had not
thought about.
Is this insecurity? I know I am alone except for Jim and
I think I can deal with that. It does not matter if I am in my
apartment in Newport, or anywhere else, I am still alone.
Is it recognising my own mortality? I thought I had come to
terms with death years ago but perhaps I am wrong.
Am I afraid of death? Not at all but I do want to live the
life I have left as fully as I can. Is it about adaptation? I must
recognise that my home is the one I bought for myself in
Newport. This means I am my own person, my own entity.
I am my family. I start a new chapter in my life. At my age
that seems ludicrous but it seems to be true.
I recognise that it is the many facets of grief. I grieve
for my home, my parents, the happy times we had.
Immediately after a death memories are painful. However
in a while the same memories become precious because
they are all that is left to remember the people, the events,
and the home. It may seem strange to grieve for bricks and
mortar but a home is as much a part of the family as the
people and the pets. I allow myself to grieve how and when
and for how long I need and want.
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
11
Mr and Mrs Chebli promised Edmond and his brother,
Joe that they would keep in touch with their family in
Lebanon and would remain interested in their prospects.
Across the valley, in a household of eight sons, Edmond
and his brother, Joe, were the first to express the wish to seek
their fortune overseas. Schooled by French priests, Edmond
qualified as a teacher of English, French and Arabic but
opportunities were few. ‘Before you go,’ his father advised,
‘you need to reserve a wife. The Cheblis, our distant cousins
across the valley, are of a suitable class with two remaining
daughters. When you’ve made good, you can return to
marry and take your wives back with you.’ So it was that
Edmond who was off to Africa, and Joe who was going to
Brazil, made the contract with the Chebli family for their
two daughters.
On a spring day after Easter in 1903, Edmond joined the
throng on the quay for his voyage to the new world. His
father saw him off. ‘I know that you will make us proud.’
He didn’t add how important Edmond’s success would be
for their survival as the silk price took them from poverty to
wealth and back again in the same season.
How families
were made
written by Cecile Yazbek
The two girls, Lily and Eva were folding the linen their mother’s helper had just ironed. As they pulled
and shook the sheets, they wondered what their parents were discussing in the formal parlour. From
the first floor window with its view across to the harbour of Beirut, they looked down to see who pulled
the bell at the front door. They saw Edmond and Joe Khalil from across the valley. Eva grabbed Lily, ‘Is
this the time? Are they g-going to send you away too now, like our sister, Zena who went to America
and the Hage g-girls who were at school with us?’
Lily looked at her little sister whose speech always came
with difficulty. She put her finger to her lips and hugged
her with her free arm. ‘No, habeebteh, remember I have
two more years at home and you, you are so lucky, you
have four more years at home with our parents, Oummi
and Bayee.’
Eva’s eyes widened, ‘And when you go, will you have
lots of little b-babies?’ Lily didn’t reply. Her face grew
12
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
wistful, like the expression one sometimes sees on a
pregnant woman’s face. ‘What?’ Eva pulled at her sleeve.
Lily was thinking of her sister the day the cat had kittens
in the bottom of their wardrobe. Eva was so excited to tell
everyone, her head shook back and forth as fragmented
words tumbled from her lips. These two children tied more
to each other than to their mother, tiptoed to the top of the
stairs to listen.
. . . ‘It’ll be fine,’ Lily
said softly. ‘Our parents
love us and make the
best decisions for us.
We have to go away.’
Image
The Port of Beirut
Lebanon
Four years later, Edmond went home and Lily prepared
to meet her fiancé for the first time. Her wedding dress was
hanging in the wardrobe beside a chest filled with handstitched linen and silk underwear. Eva’s brand new chest,
half-full, stood waiting for space in the wardrobe.
From their bedroom window, Lily and Eva watched
Edmond Khalil striding down the road toward their house.
His black hair gleamed in the sun. His moustache would
have done a sheikh proud – waxed stiff and combed, there
was not a whisker out of place on his round face. He
appeared taller than when they last saw him.
Eva grabbed her sister and clung to her. ‘It’ll be fine,’ Lily
said softly. ‘Our parents love us and make the best decisions
for us. We have to go away.’
Eva stretched up to look out the window. ‘He looks
n-nice. He’s wearing clothes like a t-teacher.’
‘Yes, he is very smart,’ Lily said. ‘Oummi told me that the
houses in Africa are grand with servants to do all the work.
It will be easy for me to keep my husband happy. No more
linen folding.’ She drew her hand down the length of a silk
dress hanging next to the window.
Edmond disappeared into the house and the two girls
went to the top of the stairs. As they had eavesdropped
years before, they listened again. ‘He has a soft voice,’ Lily
said. ‘He doesn’t boom like some men here in our village.’
Edmond had plenty to show: diamonds and sapphires
and a small gold bar for his parents-in-law-to-be sealed the
bargain. Her father’s decision final, they were to be married
and some months later, sail to Africa.
After Lily’s marriage to Edmond she moved in with his
family across the valley. Edmond re-connected with old
friends and cousins who were visiting from overseas when
his younger brother, Joe arrived sooner than expected
from Brazil.
Although Eva was only twelve, the decision was made
that she would be married straightaway. Concern for her
little sister flickered but Lily feared that Edmond could be
told to silence her disrespect, if she expressed her opinion.
Taken back to her home once more, she helped Eva prepare
for her marriage. ‘Sh-Shall I be afraid?’ It was the slightest
allusion to the drama the day after Lily’s wedding.
‘No, habeebteh, I was stupid. My mother-in-law has
been very good to me,’ Lily said. ‘Now I am so happy to be
here still for you.’
Eva’s excitement bubbled over, ‘Will I look as p-pretty
as you?’
As soon as Eva was married to Joe, the two brothers
decided to leave Lebanon for their homes overseas.
On the quay, the Khalil family clucked over their two
departing sons, but there was no sign of anyone from the
Chebli family. Lily and Eva held onto each other; they
searched for their mother and sister, but not even their
brother was there for them. Maybe their family feared
another humiliating scene. ‘They must be watching us from
home, from our window looking over the b-bay,’ Eva said.
‘That’s why they aren’t here.’
As Edmond and Joe came towards them, the sisters
embraced before climbing into the lighters that would
ferry them to the mother ships at anchor in deep water.
Eva was being taken across two oceans to Brazil, and Lily,
due south, down the east coast of Africa. With the growing
distance between the boats, the two girls waved and hailed
each other with an enthusiasm belying the grief that would
descend once their ships set sail.
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
13
An award
that “means everything”
Adapted from a Press Release issued by The Good SAMS Foundation.
Sydney Harbour, still bustling with a flotilla of tall ships and navy vessels from the International
Fleet Review, was the stunning backdrop for the inaugural presentation of the Good Samaritan
Foundation Scholarship.
In a marquee on the lawn of Admiralty House, on a
beautiful October 8 evening, the Governor-General, Her
Excellency, the Honourable Quentin Bryce, presented
the scholarship to Kate Touzell, a Year 10 student from
St Patrick’s College, Campbelltown.
Looking on were bursting-with-pride parents, Terry and
Susan Touzell, and 150 guests invited to honour the work
of the Good Sams Foundation, which provides financial
support and resources for the ministries of the Good
Samaritan Sisters in Australia and the Asia-Pacific.
14
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
When asked why she thought she was chosen to receive
the scholarship, Kate responded with disarming candour.
“In all honesty, I have no idea. I am just an average person.”
She quickly added, “This scholarship means everything,
absolutely everything,” particularly given the serious health
issues faced by both her parents.
Back in 2010 Kate chose to go to St Patrick’s in
Campbelltown because of the opportunities the College
held out for her. “I had the idea [the College] would bring
me from a girl to a young lady,” she said.
The Governor-General addressed the gathering speaking
of her delight in being the Patron in Chief of the Good
Samaritan Foundation. “I am particularly happy that the
Good Samaritan Sisters support women and children,”
she said.
Her Excellency thanked Sister Clare Condon,
Congregational Leader and all Good Samaritan Sisters for
their impressive contribution to education and their longterm service to the Australian community and the Asia-Pacific
region. The Good Sams, she said, were “powerful women”.
She recalled her fond memories of meeting Good
Samaritan Sisters in Kiribati and of her joyful participation
in the congregation’s sesquicentenary celebrations when
she was Governor of Queensland.
Echoing the warm and long-standing association
between Her Excellency and the congregation, Sister Clare
expressed her deep gratitude for Her Excellency’s ongoing
kindness and generosity. “Even in 2007 the sesquicentenary
year of the Sisters’ beginnings here in Sydney in 1857, you
planted a Good Sam rose in the gardens of the Queensland
Government House,” Sister Clare said.
. . . this is something
meaningful and
worthwhile. It’s a way
of giving back to a
very important part
of the community.
“Four Good Sam roses,” Her Excellency corrected,
adding that they were “lipstick pink” in colour.
Sister Clare took the opportunity to acknowledge current
and possible future directors of the Good Sams Foundation
and announced that the Foundation was currently in the
process of moving offices from Brisbane to Sydney in the
hope of providing a more national focus.
“As a Foundation we are small but very focused on the
needs of those most disadvantaged. We rejoice if just one
person is in a better position because of our connections,”
she said.
“The Foundation supports Sisters’ ministries in Santa
Teresa, Northern Territory, the Inn for homeless women
and children in Melbourne, transitional housing for women
and children in Brisbane, and our ministries in Kiribati and
The Philippines.”
Referring to the inaugural Good Sams Foundation
scholarship, Sister Clare said, “Sisters of the Good Samaritan
believe that education is the most powerful social mover
in society”.
“Good Samaritan schools, since 1867 have offered and
continue to offer an excellent education which is inclusive.
16
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
If anything they have a leaning towards those who for
various reasons suffer disadvantage. Currently there are over
140 Indigenous students in our colleges,” she explained.
Sister Clare acknowledged the generosity of the sponsors
of the inaugural Foundation scholarship, Carroll and O’Dea
Lawyers and WN Bull Funerals.
To receive a copy of
Testament of Requests ™
please contact WN BULL
on 9519 5344
Greg Bissett, Managing Director of WN Bull, said that
his firm had a two-fold mission and role – that of customer
service and giving back to the community. “If you say, what
has this [scholarship] got to do with funerals? We say this is
something meaningful and worthwhile. It’s a way of giving
back to a very important part of the community.”
AUSTRALIAN FUNERAL DIRECTORS ASSOCIATION MEMBER
From Top
Governor-General, the
Honourable Quentin Bryce
presents Kate Touzell
Kate Touzell,
Governor-General, the
Honourable Quentin Bryce,
Sister Clare Condon SGS
Images Jon Love
Lawyer Michael O’Dea concurred. “It’s a terrible loss
to have a child with the ability to be educated at a more
senior level withdrawing at Year 10 or anything short of
what they’re capable of. So we’re only too pleased and
proud to be involved in a project like this.”
For further information
contact Sarah Fraser
O’Brien, Executive
Manager, Good Sams
Foundation
Ph: (07) 3254 0740
M: 0408 880 435
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
17
LETTERS
LETTERS
TO THE EDITOR
Dear Editor,
It all began with the chicken stories, the quaint
characters who lived in our garden when my
children were growing up; the anxiety-ridden
gender- confused helpless beautiful Jessica; the
frustrated overwhelmed delusional motherly
Phoebe; the dignified balding self-assured
industrious Gladys; and Eunice the humble awardwinning hunchback thespian. I had never thought
of Editor Richard as a risk-taker, but he printed
all the chook stories, Dialogue after Dialogue. I
thought he had taken leave of his senses.
Richard saw value in my writing, my sometimes
unusual and often not-listened-to view of the
world, the reflections that pottered around from
here to there trying to make sense of things. He
worked hard to help me out of my stuckness, my
resistance to worthiness; and being encouraged
and believed in and finally being able to accept,
the stories came tumbling .
There were stories about memories and moments
and obscure stories and strange occurrences that
have shaped my life, and Richard liked them all;
images of autumn, images of winter, images of
childhood; people I love, places I love; dung
beetles; things that trouble me, entrapment and
disability and affliction and loneliness; family
history; change, poverty, sorrow, courage; travels
and firesides and compassion and struggles
and achievements; the brilliance of insight, the
darkness of pain. Even poems, which I think must
have been a challenge for Richard’s sensibilities;
a poem about the rain on the roof, a poem about
the love of a grandchild, a poem about a frog who
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Issue 62 | Summer 2013
TO THE EDITOR
Dear Richard,
imagines he is a handsome prince, a poem of a
cat talking to itself about freedom:
“It is easy to take the freedom you know
for granted
When you have never had it taken away
It takes courage to choose the freedom you
don’t know
You don’t know what’s on the other side
Or how you are going to get there
“But freedom I say is where the spirit is
Or wants to be
Like fresh sardines for the soul”
How prophetic is that! I thought I was writing
about the longings of a cat living in a high walled
garden, and I end up giving myself a profound
message. The feeling of freedom in writing this
collection of odd things has become something
to do with understanding myself differently. It is
as though I am newly hatched and find I have
got wings and there is a gentle steady updraft to
blow me in the right direction and glorious silver
air that goes to the edge of forever to fly in and
anything is possible.
Can I take this opportunity to compliment
and thank you on your quarterly issues of
“Dialogue”.
I look forward immensely to each issue and I
must say that from each issue I have gained some
new knowledge. For example, the Spring edition
and the article on Imagination and Healing. The
Five Regrets of Dying was very enlightening and
I have actually recounted this article and the
5 regrets to people over the last month. In the
Summer 2013 edition, the article on Talking to
Grieving People gave fantastic ideas on how to
talk to people at one of their most vulnerable
times. As you would well know, many people shy
away from talking to the bereaved and this article
could well have given one person, one idea on
how to talk to someone that has lost a loved one,
and that alone makes it such a special article.
The stories of people journeys with death of
a loved one and their journey’s with grief are
a privilege to read. They offer the grieving an
insight into how other people are coping and
give comfort to people that they are not alone
in the emotions and thoughts they may also
be feeling.
The pictures and poetry are also a favourite. I love
the beautiful things in life, and your magazine
shows great examples of these.
Again thank you for sharing these magazine with
us, and for the hard work that must be associated
with the publication, and please know that
this magazine makes a difference, not only to
bereaved people, but any person that has the
privilege to read it.
Kind Regards
The simple but effective and not academic
way it is written is of major appeal as well. The
stories and quick and succinct but always full of
meaning and many a times, the words reach out
of the page. All the writers that contribute should
be highly commended on their writing.
Leah Sutherland
In this space I can see more clearly that this is
how Richard works. He hadn’t taken leave from
his senses; he had helped me come to mine. And
it all started with the chickens.
Kind regards
Erica Greenop
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
19
To Bury the Dead
A Work of Mercy
written by Richard White
There is a tradition in the Catholic Church of the Seven Corporal Works of Mercy. The seventh of
these is ‘to bury the dead’. There is nothing peculiar to the Church in this practice. One of the signs
of evolutionary change in prehistoric times was evidence of early humans burying their dead. Closer
to our own times, there is Sophocles’ drama, ‘Antigone’. A sister disobeys her ruler-uncle’s command
and buries the body of her brother, a rebel against the city. It is a reverent, loving act to care for the
bodies of our sisters and brothers.
Mercy can take
many forms . . . there
is something blessed in
being able to comfort
and assure people.
It is a privilege to work for a funeral company. It is more
than a business, more than a job. Even if staff may not
consciously think of their role in this way, there is something
blessed in being able to comfort and assure people. There
is a line from a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins, ‘Felix
Randal’, that often comes back to me . . .
This seeing the sick endears them to us,
us too it endears.
Since 1892, WN Bull Funerals have had their own mortuary.
Recently, the mortuary facilities were significantly upgraded.
Steven Ross, the senior embalmer, described in detail the
new equipment and improvements made over the past
couple of months. He spoke with pride and appreciation
of the changes implemented. I have known Steve for almost
ten years and I know where that pride was coming from.
Burying the dead is a work of mercy. Steve wouldn’t
necessarily use those words. But, he is a well qualified
20
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
and much respected embalmer. He is also a well known
and compassionate funeral conductor. He often meets the
families of the people whom he has prepared for burial
or cremation. Steve may also offer or be invited to talk
with families who have come to see their deceased mother
or brother or friend prior to the funeral. He can offer his
professional understanding and knowledge to reassure
and comfort people on this occasion. Mercy can take
many forms.
If we replace ‘sick’ with ‘dead’, then we can understand
why some people might consider it a privilege to work for a
funeral company. ‘Seeing the dead’, caring for their bodies,
honouring the trust of their families, being respectful . . .
makes every funeral special. Such behaviour changes us,
too. We, too, are ‘endeared’, made ‘dear’, kinder, more
compassionate, more human, as our earliest ancestors
became ‘more human’ when they buried their dead.
Steven Ross, senior embalmer for WN Bull Funerals,
receiving his certificate as a Fellow Embalmer of
the Australian Institute of Embalmers from Pauline
Tobin, Chairperson of the Institute. This award
is presented to people who have worked as an
embalmer for ten years or more.
Steve Ross’ pride and enthusiasm about the renewal of
WN Bull’s mortuary has its roots in all of the above. He
is to be congratulated, too, in becoming a Fellow of the
Australian Institute of Embalmers, after ten years of service
in the profession.
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
21
Recommended Reading
That small kitten, the heroine or narrator of the story,
lived until she was twenty three. Her life and adventures
covered twenty three years of a family’s life. This story is
a narration, a sort of odyssey, beginning with a death then
tracing an unfolding or a living. It is certainly the ‘healing
of a family’ but it is also the celebration of a mother.
Sam was special, loveable in the slightly scary wisebefore-his-years and independent sort of way. He had a
great love of animals and his love for the kitten was no
isolated event. Cleo, named because she looked like
one of the famous Egyptian cats of antiquity, was fated to
be special in a similar way to Sam. The fun-loving, vital
young boy died taking a wounded pigeon to the vet’s with
his brother, Rob. Two weeks after he died the owner of
the cat brought the chosen kitten to the devastated family.
Helen was horrified at this intrusion and all for returning
the bundle of black fur.
After locking the dog in the kitchen she returned to the
front door to tell Lena, the cat’s owner that they could not
possibly cope with another animal in the house.
Cleo,
How an uppity cat
helped heal a family
by HELEN BROWN
‘I’m sorry Lena . . . ‘ I was about to
l a u n ch i n t o my s p e e ch . B u t t h e n I s aw
Rob’s face. As he gazed tenderly down at the
kitten, and ran a chubby finger over her back I saw
something I thought had vanished from the earth
forever. Rob’s smile. ‘Welcome home, Cleo,’
he said.
written by Richard White
It was the blurb on the back that persuaded
me. Another second hand book. A nondescript
cover and hidden among the usual thrillers and
romances.
Helen Brown wasn’t a cat person, but her
nine-year-old son Sam was. So when Sam
heard a woman telling his mum that her cat
had just had kittens, Sam pleaded to go and
see them.
Helen’s heart melted as Sam held one
of the kittens in his hands with a look of
total adoration. In a trice the deal was
done – the kitten would be delivered
wh e n s h e wa s b i g e n o u g h t o l e ave
her mother.
A week later, Sam was run over and killed . . .
The blurb and a combination of duty and desperation
persuaded me. I needed a book for Recommended
Reading. I was wary of sentiment and sensation. Could I
find something here that would have substance as well as
shock value? Would I become involved with this family,
and their cat, and not just sucked in by the cuteness?
22
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
The story begins with the devastation of Sam’s death.
Helen Brown, Sam’s mother, is an accomplished writer,
. . . the cat becomes
the refrain, the
leitmotif, flowing
through the family’s
ups and downs.
a journalist, with an eye for the image and detail. There
were times when I found the descriptions too much. The
starkness of the blurb was lost in the effort to convey a
feeling or a crisis. But, that starkness that jolts me out of
critical mode into awe and understanding came gradually,
like Cleo, the cat’s, longevity.
From this inauspicious beginning the cat becomes
the refrain, the leitmotif, flowing through the family’s ups
and downs. The animal employs her very ‘animality’, the
unfettered and uninhibited energy that breaks open selfconstructed prisons of grief and fear, shatters the rigidity of
nursed and destructive pain and evokes the possibility and
reality of new life.
Helen describes a kittenish attack on a rubber plant in
the living room, early in the piece.
For the first time in weeks we revelled in the simplest,
most complex healing technique known to humanity.
Grief had pulled me so deeply into its dungeon I’d
forgotten about laughing. It took a boy, his kitten
and a rubber plant to engage me in a function
essential to human sanity. The horror of the past
weeks dissolved, padlocks of pain were unlocked,
momentarily. We laughed.
The mood of the house was not a restriction for Cleo.
Animals can pick up moods but they are not held in thrall
by them, as humans often are. This is particularly true of
cats. The animal had a freedom and mischievousness that
took the edge off the dramas that punctuated Helen’s family,
as they punctuate all our families. They are remarkably like
a child in this, not unlike the description of Sam.
. . . As he gazed
tenderly down at
the kitten, and ran
a chubby finger
over her back I saw
something I thought
had vanished from
the earth forever.
Rob’s smile.
He was born with a wild sense of humour, a tool to
test boundaries. When he was small I feigned shock
at his use of rude words. He retaliated by following
me around humming, ‘Bum, bum, bumble bee’.
Never afraid of flamboyance, he’d flung himself fully
dressed into a bath of water and insisted on wearing
a monkey mask with matching feet for the duration
of his eighth birthday.
It is never explicitly stated but there was also something
of the sprite in Cleo. Not only the wil-of-the-wisp,
prankster sort of thing, but the embodiment, inspiritment
of the boy who had died. An accompanying playfulness
and fidelity that brought the blessing and hope that the
countless moments of death – the loss of Sam, the break
up Helen’s marriage, Rob’s serious and possibly debilitating
illness, Helen’s own serious health issues – were just that,
moments, not the end. The cat did not know about ‘the
end’, animals don’t.
Cleo did die, eventually. Her work was done. It was
time to move on. Despite some initial misgivings, Cleo
got me in. It wasn’t her antics or the personifications that
captured me in the end. It was her presence, like a refrain,
as I said earlier. Cleo was there, she was always there, as
Helen’s life and family unfolded, like a book or a film.
It was not the obviousness of her antics but her
unobtrusive accompanying that brought with it the awe
and appreciation that remain with me. This is the story
of a woman who lives and loves and suffers and . . . is
fully alive. Helen wrote about Cleo but Cleo shone the
light on Helen. The animal is the focus but the human, the
humanity, is revealed.
Issue 62 | Summer 2013
23
Celebrate the Memories
n of
Þoet’s
Corner
a Lifetime
Northern Suburbs Memorial Gardens and Skyline Function Centre, North Ryde
Graveyard in France, Bussière-sur-Ouche
I climb past the graves of the mothers and the fathers,
The children and the grandparents,
To the graves of the seven men
Lying high on the hill.
They lie in a row,
Dead at nineteen and twenty, twenty-two and twenty-five.
Fifty-two years they have lain on this alien hill –
Airmen, crashed with their bomber in 1943,
Buried by the villagers
And one of them my countryman.
Tears fill my eyes for these young men
Who gave their lives so generously
Far from their families and homes
And never returned.
The villagers honour them each year
And I, having no flowers to bring,
Honour them with fresh leaves;
I place a stone for remembrance
On the headstone of my compatriot
And take his memory back with me
To his distant homeland.
Chapels of Northern Suburbs Memorial Gardens
Generous parking
Choice of 4 art deco heritage chapels
nn
nn
Choice of 3 after funeral family meeting lounges
nn
Visit Gardens daily 6.00am to 6.00pm
and 6.00am to 8.00pm during daylight savings
Latest digital technology in chapels and lounges
nn
nn
Concierge service
Visit Gardens office 8.30am to 5.00pm Monday to
Friday and 9.00am to 4.00pm Saturday and Sunday
nn
nn
Café
Visit the new My Memorial
website for help with your
memorialisation options.
by Marjorie Pizer
Skylight Function Centre (Internal)
Skylight Function Centre (External)
Copies of
Marjorie Pizer’s books
can be ordered from
Pinchgut Press
67 Diamond Street
AMAROO ACT 2914
199 Delhi Road, North Ryde
n
Ph: 9887 2033
n
www.northernsuburbscrem.com.au
•
•
www.wnbull.com.au