Determined.

PART ONE: BRIDGET

The Flynn Family

New Zealand was a country whose progressiveness far outweighed its size in 1895 when Mary Cecilia Fitzgerald married Daniel Flynn in Little Grey Junction on the 25th of February.While the area on the West Coast of the South Island where they lived was rural, it was one of the most technologically and socially advanced places in the world.In 1888 the town of Reefton, less than 20 kilometres from where they married, had become the first town in the Southern Hemisphere to have a public electricity supply. And in 1893 New Zealand became the first country in the world to achieve full female suffrage when all women gained the right to vote. An achievement it would take its neighbour Australia another 69 years to achieve.Workers’ rights were high on the agenda in New Zealand as well; in 1894 compulsory arbitration of industrial disputes was introduced.Mary Cecilia had been born to Bridget and John Fitzgerald in about 1873 in Blackwater, Buller, West Coast, New Zealand. She was the first born, big sister to four brothers, Patrick John (1878-1949), Ernest James (1880-), Thomas (1885-1940), William (-), and one beloved sister, the youngest of the seven, Bridget Anastasia (1891-1911).Daniel was born around May 1857 in Castlemaine, in County Kerry, on the South West coast of Ireland. The son of Brigidda Foley and Mauritu Flynn. By 1885, he had emigrated to New Zealand and was working as a labourer.Mary and Daniel meet sometime in between 1885 and 1895, when they marry at the ages of around 18 and 29 respectively.

Above: Mary Cecilia Fitzgerald and Daniel Flynn's marriage record, Little Grey Junction, Ahaura, 1902Background image: The Flynn Family circa 1905
Left to right at back: Bridget (Dolly), Mary Cecilia Flynn nee Fitzgerald, Maurice (Snowy), Mary Ann (later Prendergast);
At front: Patrick (Paddy)

In 1896 they give birth to their first child, Mary Ann. It’s the same year that New Zealand establishes the National Council of Women, holds its first public screening of a motion picture, and the national census gives the population as 743,214.At this point, they are living in Snowy Creek, Ahaura District, later zoned to the region of Ikamahua. Their farm is at Blackwater, very near the junction of Little Grey River, Grey River, Blackwater River, and Snowy River.The name Snowy will become the nickname of their second child, Maurice, named after Daniel’s father and brother, and born in 1898, the same year the first cars are imported to New Zealand.

PART ONE: BRIDGET

Hello, Dolly.

In 1899 a contingent of New Zealanders are sent to the South African war. And, while social and technological advances continue to be made over the coming fifty years, this signals a half-century of tumult – huge loss and huge achievement, significant setbacks and significant advances – for the country.It is into this time and place that Mary and Daniel welcome their third child, Bridget Annastatia Flynn, on the 18th of April 1899. While named after Mary’s youngest sibling and mother, like her big brother Snowy, Bridget would be better known by her nickname: Dolly. And in line with the ambivalent world she is born into, Dolly will both drive the rights of women forward and struggle against the economic and social barriers of the era over the course of her life.Dolly’s birth is registered on 9 May 1899 and her birth certificate tells us that Mary is 27 and Daniel, a farmer, is 38. They are still living in Blackwater, the same place Mary was born.

Bridget's birth record, Snowy Creek, Ahaura, 1899

Daniel and Mary give birth to their fourth and final child together on the 15th of January 1901, Patrick John (Paddy) Flynn. Since his sister Dolly’s birth just two year’s earlier, New Zealand has passed the Māori Councils Act and introduced the first usage of Penny Postage; the world has entered the 20th Century.On the sixth of January 1902, Mary’s husband, and the father of their four children, Daniel, dies.

Daniel's death record, Snowy Creek, Ahaura, 1902

Mary is now the sole parent to four children ranging from around one year to six years in age, with a farm to run in rural New Zealand in 1902 while she grieves her husband’s death.With all this to contend with, Mary, according to her affidavit, searches for his will – or something amounting to one – but none was found. So, along with her father John, Mary goes through the costly and gruelling process of applying to the Supreme Court of New Zealand for the right to take on and administer his estate. Bridget is almost three at the time. The estate is estimated to be worth around 360 pounds, about $AU40,000 today.Her father’s failure to have a will in place would – or perhaps, should – ultimately serve Bridget well.

PART ONE: BRIDGET

The Quinn Family

Bridget’s mother Mary Cecilia married again in 1907 to Gus – Augustus Quinn – a timber farmer from a neighbouring town. In the same year, the Tohunga Suppression Act is passed and the Dominion of New Zealand is declared.

Above: Mary Cecilia Flynn nee Fitzgerald and Augustus Quinn's marriage record, Ikamatua, 1907Background image: Scene at Blackwater, circa 1900-1930 from West Coast New Zealand History via westcoast.recollect.co.nz

They have three children – James William Augustus, Thomas Samuel and Arthur Henry (Henry) – half-brothers to Mary Ann, Snowy, Dolly and Paddy.

PART ONE: BRIDGET

Orphans.

On 4 June 1925 Mary Cecilia dies, leaving Bridget and her three full siblings, now young adults, orphaned. Their three half brothers, still children, are now in the sole care of their father, Gus.

Mary Cecilia's death record, Hukarere, 1924

In 1925 Bridget’s stepfather applies to take ownership of the assets once belonging to Daniel and Mary Flynn so that he can care for and provide for all seven children at their address.On 8 July 1925, Bridget – a machinist and printer’s assistant in Greymouth at the time – signs her agreement, along with her other three siblings, to this application.He then makes out a will that will leave all his assets to his three biological sons.On 27 July 1925, Gus is killed in a workplace accident.

Left: Extracts from Augustus Quinn's application for Letters of Administration to the deceased estate of Mary Cecilia Quinn (formerly Flynn nee Fitzgerald) including the signatures of Mary and Daniel's four children
Centre: Article on Augustus' death from Greymouth Evening Star, p5, 28 July 1925
Right: Notification to Supreme Court to withdraw application for Letters of Administration, 29 July 1925

So, to ensure that the family assets stay with the family, on 12 August 1926 Bridget signs an affidavit in application of her right to take on her father’s estate, which had never officially passed to her Mother or Gus.Bridget is a 26 year old spinster. And an orphan. With the responsibility of her three half-brothers. Working as a printer’s assistant in the nearest town to her family home. And all this in a rural area in 1926.At this time she lives at 32 Murray Street, Greymouth with her Mother's sister and her family, cordial makers, the Grogans.

32 Murray Street Greymouth, today

We first see Bridget on the electoral roll here in 1922 and she remains on the roll until 1931. Although in 1931, we lack further evidence that she is still there.

Left: Extracts from the 1925 Electoral roll showing Annastatia Flynn and the Grogan's at 32 Murray Street, Greymouth
Right: Grogan's Cordials Bottles

This 26-year-old single woman has moved to her Aunt's house in town to attend work away from the family home and secures ownership of the family estate, thus ensuring that her siblings continue to have a home and security.The sole executor of her stepfather’s will – a Bertie Lawerence Petterson – also signs an affidavit to hand over his executorship to Bridget during this time. Her three adult siblings also sign their support.On 29 September 1926, in Greymouth, she signs the final papers to take ownership of her parents’ assets confirming she will look after all six of her siblings – and herself – with this responsibility.

Left: Extracts from Bridget Annastatia Flynn's application for Letters of Administration to the deceased estate of her father, Daniel Flynn
Centre: Bridget's signatures from the applications and acceptance; the signature dated 29 September 1926 is the last known record (so far) of Bridget using this name
Right: Extract from document from the Supreme Court of New Zealand granting Daniel Flynn's estate to Bridget, 2 September 1926

And at this point, Bridget disappears from records. There are no further official records (that we have yet found) bearing her name.

But there are some social outings.

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PART ONE: BRIDGET

Social outings with the Grogans

It is clear that Bridget - commonly now referred to as Annastatia or Dolly - makes the most of her new urban address. Her new housemates – the Grogans – seem firm companions and they take many trips and attend many dances together.

Left and top right: Bridget (Annastatia on left, Dolly on right) and Mrs Grogan holiday in Christchurch in 1925 and 1931, reported in the Grey River ArgusBottom right: Bridget (here Dolly) takes a break in Ikamatua in 1923, reported in the Grey River ArgusBackground image: Greymouth in the 1920s, West Coast New Zealand History via westcoast.recollect.co.nz

Social dances are a frequent night out, and her attendance - and fashion - is frequently reported.

Left: Bridget wears jade green merv silk and tulle to a Joyland in June 1925, reported in the Waikato TimesCentre: Bridget (here Dolly) wears pink satin and georgette to a "pleasant dance" in April 1926, as reported in the Waikato TimesRight: Bridget (here Dolly) wears mauve georgette over pink satin to an "enjoyable dance" in August 1925, as reported in the Waikato TimesAll via Papers Past

PART THREE: TERESA

Meet Teresa.

In 1934 Teresa Catherine Patterson appears on the Victorian electoral roll. It is by this name – shortened to Tessa or Patto for her friends, made Nanna Patterson for her grandchildren – that Bridget, Jean and Teresa, will be known for the remainder of her life (and up until her nosy great granddaughter goes poking about and finds her other names in 2023).

Teresa Catherine Patterson's first appearance, on a 1934 electoral roll. The woman who is Bridget and Jean and Teresa, will be known like this for the rest of her life.

Far from being a single printer's assistant living in Greymouth, she is now a live in housekeeper and sole parent to a two year old in Footscray. In this outer western suburb of Melbourne, she works as a live in maid, gardener, cook, laundress, and all round housekeeper, for a widowed man and his three sons. Mary's memories begin here. She especially remembers the lifelong friends Teresa made nearby, known to Mary as Aunty Kit and Uncle Tom.

The house in Footscray where Teresa worked and lived with toddler Mary, from around 1934 until around 1936, pictured in more recent times

In 1937 Teresa and Mary move and begin living in Oakleigh. Here Teresa works for another widower, who Mary remembers as Poppy Mathers.This home is very close to the convent of the good shepherd institution in Oakleigh, where Mary will attend school. Happily, that place has now been razed to the ground and covered with Chadstone shopping centre and hotel. One day Mary's granddaughter, without this knowledge, will buy her first home nearby, and be able to look out of her living room window to the hotel tower in the distance.In this electoral roll, Teresa's surname is spelled Paterson; one t, not two. Misspellings of names were not uncommon in pre-computer times, so it may be that this was a simple case of human error, or perhaps another of Teresa's breadcrumbs of clues to Mary's father's identity.

Left: The house in Oakleigh where Teresa worked for Poppy Mathers and lived with young Mary in 1937 and 1938, pictured in more recent times
Right: Teresa Catherine Paterson in the 1937 Victorian electoral roll

When employment in Oakleigh ends after Poppy Mathers marries, Teresa is forced to rent a single room in a small house in Richmond, an inner suburb of Melbourne.Mrs Blay is the landlady who will tolerate no mucking around and Mary will hate living here. A man exposes himself to Mary while she walks nearby one day when she is aged between six and ten.There is no phone or career websites, so Teresa uses her precious money to put ads in the newspaper for work; people come by who want to employ her for any house or garden duties. When they come, she goes out to work at their home, doing their laundry, gardening, cooking, and cleaning. Mary sometimes goes with her, as there are no weekends for them. Teresa never takes lunch for herself, but always packs a small lunch, like a sandwich, for Mary.On Saturdays, Mary gets a bath in the backyard tub. Her hair is washed, brushed out and put in rag curls to be worn to bed.When, at 90, Mary sees the first photo she has ever seen of her Flynn family, she will focus misty-eyed on (then) 7 year old Mary Ann Flynn. She will talk at length about how her mother would do her hair just like Mary Ann's is done in the photo; rag curls and piggy tails. She will sit staring at those pigtails, stroking them in the photo for a long time.

The Richmond house where Teresa and Mary lived in the early 1940s.

There are no records yet found of their time in Richmond, but Mary's memory for addresses is so strong, even in her nineties, that we've used it to find all her homes. None have been wrong by even a single house number yet. Teresa and Mary live here from around 1939 to 1943, the first half of WWII.And in 1983, a keen-eyed Mary spotted it in a local paper and cut out the article, so we were sure the hand-drawn image and house at the address were a match.

A 1983 Real Estate newspaper article and hand drawing of the Richmond house where Teresa and Mary rented the back bedroom , Mary's handwriting in the bottom left corner

Eventually, Teresa finds another permanent, live in, position in Parkdale, an outer bayside suburb of Melbourne – very outer in the 1940s – with another widower and his children; Mr Bill Lee.During their time here, Mary has her tonsils removed at a hospital in the city and remembers well the train trip back to Parkdale with Teresa and the long walk from the train station back to the house.

Mr Lee's house in Sixth Street, Parkdale, where Teresa and Mary lived circa 1940, taken circa 2010

Also while living in Parkdale, Mary is baptised on 5 March 1944, aged 11. The age here is interesting as Catholics tend to move a bit faster than that with baptisms. Mary will later wonder if it was because the church – St Patrick's, Mentone – would've expected a significant donation for a baptism that Teresa couldn't afford, given she did not yet earn even a pound a week yet, had a child to care for, and was also expected to put thruppence in the collection tray each Sunday herself, and to provide the penny that Mary Jean would put in.On the certificate of her baptism, her parents are listed as Teresa Flynn and, as he will appear on all Mary's official records going forward, George Connors Patterson.

Extract of Mary's baptism certificate, showing her parents as Teresa Flynn and George Connors Patterson

Teresa tells Mary a little about her history as she grows up. Thankfully for those trying to trace them in an unimaginable 2023, she understands her maiden name to be Flynn, that someone was called Prendergast, that she grew up in Snowy Creek near Christchurch, New Zealand, that Teresa married her father in New Zealand in 1930 and then travelled to Australia in 1932 while pregnant with Mary. And there was something about grey and maybe brown.With regards to her father, Mary is provided with just as few details as she is on Teresa’s background. She understands him to be a barber, that Teresa married him on 25 October 1930, a respectable two years before Mary’s birth, that his name is George Connors Patterson and that when Mary acts her teenage worst, she is just like him. It must be noted that Mary’s teenage worst was likely not very bad at all, likely downright angelic if compared to her future granddaughter’s attempts at the same.Teresa gives Mary Jean one photo of him. We are looking for it, but don’t yet have it. He is sitting in long grass. It is very casual.

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PART THREE: TERESA

Missing Friends.

One other key document from 1944 exists: the document that proved that Bridget Annastatia (Dolly) Flynn, the only girl born in New Zealand between 1898 and 1902 with no death record more than a hundred years later, had indeed come to Melbourne.On Saturday 9 September 1944 the name Bridget (Dolly) Flynn emerges again, this time via a missing beneficiary advertisement in the (now extinct) Melbourne newspaper, The Argus.We are hunting for the court paperwork that must exist around this time in New Zealand with Bridget unable to be found, still apparently the owner of the letters of administration for the Blackwater family home.It is unlikely that Teresa ever saw this ad. There was no budget for newspapers; they were only read if the family they were working for passed them on. While it also sought anyone who knew of Bridget’s whereabouts, no one we are yet aware of, knew of Bridget (Dolly) Flynn in Australia, only of Teresa (Tessa) Catherine Patterson nee Flynn.And had Teresa seen it, we don’t yet understand the circumstances that led her to Australia - did she not feel she could return?She may have imagined that they wanted her back to deal out portions of the Blackwater farm to her siblings and half-siblings, a trip she could not have afforded to take and likely did not have the passport for. She may have imagined, if she saw the ad, that if she had to leave in the first place to have her child, the cost of identifying herself as Bridget and reconnecting was not worth the portion of the farm she would have received, even for a live in gardener/cook/laundress/maid who still made less than one pound a week.It’s hard to imagine that she knew her sister Mary Ann had died of consumption ten months prior. Hard to imagine that she knew Mary Ann and her husband John Joseph Prendergast had by this time had nine children, and that now, after her death, at least four of them were being housed at nazareth house in Christchurch. An orphanage and an institution, much like Mary’s school, the convent of the good shepherd in Melbourne, that would feature in future inquiries and apologies to its inhabitants.

Ad searching for Bridget (Dolly) Flynn, placed by the District Public Trustee, Timaru, in The Argus, (Melbourne, Australia) 9 September 1944, p15, accessed via Trove

PART THREE: TERESA

A very good boss.

In 1949 we find Teresa again on the Victorian electoral roll in Kew, an affluent inner suburb of Melbourne. Here she – and often Mary – work for the Cunninghams. This is the most at home the pair will feel together, as Mr Cunningham is a “very good boss”.One of the finest examples can still be found at the back of the yard there, built when Mr Cunningham realised Teresa was still sharing a single bed in the maid’s room with Mary, then aged around 12. He got to work and built a two bedroom flat in the backyard, past the chooks. Mary had never had her own bed, let alone bedroom. This would have been luxury enough, but the Cunningham’s also install a shower room in the flat.

The Cunningham's Home in Kew, where Teresa and Mary worked and lived from around 1948 and had their first ever flat to themselves. Photo taken 2014.

Sometimes I think about how the space of one’s own bedroom and shower must have felt for both Mary and Teresa. It was a gift and luxury the likes of which neither had known in Australia. The flat still stands in the backyard of that house today.Teresa tends a vegetable patch in the backyard and the garden beds throughout the grounds. It is here, Mary believes, with her hands in the dirt, that her mother took out anything she had stored up. Having come from being a single 26 year old in New Zealand, living away from the family home, working as a printer’s assistant at the Grey River Argus, responsible for her half siblings, and owning the family home, attending balls and going on holidays, to being a sole parent, working as a house maid, gardener, laundress, and cook, with no days off, no privacy, no real income, and no family beyond her daughter, we might imagine that the dirt in the grounds of that backyard in Kew, carries her energy still.

PART FOUR: MARY

The Junior Boy and Girl.

At 13, Mr Cunningham will allow Mary to lie about her age so that she can leave school and come to work as the Junior Girl at the company he owns, EGA. For Mary to take this role, Desmond Murray Sellars must be promoted from Junior Boy after he trains the new recruit.

At 14, now legally allowed to have left school and work, Mary will allow Desmond to court her. They are married when Mary is 19 and Des is 24 in 1952. This marriage will last until his death in 2004, and Mary will still be just as in love with Des when she’s 91 years old and he’s been gone 19 years, as she is in 1952.Their first daughter Barbara Ann will be born just a week short of 9 months after the wedding. Their second daughter, Janette Mary Teresa Sellars, joins them in 1954. Their first son, Anthony, is born in 1956.In 1957, five years after the marriage of her daughter, Teresa falls ill for the first time reported in Mary’s life. The daughter of the Cunningham’s finds Des at work to tell him. He relays the news to Mary. It is Saturday the 25th of May and, of all the hard days in Mary’s life, this one is – so far – the hardest.The next hardest one will come shortly after on Tuesday, the 28th of May, when Teresa, who has not regained consciousness since Saturday, dies at a private hospital in Kew (undoubtedly accessed and paid for by Mrs Cunningham) with her daughter, Mary, by her side.With the loss of Teresa, (now more commonly referred to by her grandchildren as Nanna Patterson), Mary has lost her entire ancestral family.Teresa is buried at Melbourne General Cemetery. Her headstone reads:
In loving memory of Teresa PATTERSON loved mother of Mary Jean died 28 May 1957 age 58 yrs.Des’ parents will lie in the next site to her when their time comes and her son in law will join her there in 2004. At 91, Mary Jean will often talk about joining Des and Teresa there at peace. At 92, Mary joins them there on 16 January 2025. Her children, grand children and great grand children will all be there and, after her burial, will sit on the graveside telling stories of how loved she is. Their hearts will be broken yet full, they will cry and smile.Teresa will lie, surrounded by loved ones and remembered for generations to come, even by those who never got to meet her during her lifetime.Her descendants, especially those who are sole mothers themselves, will draw daily strength from what they have learnt of her, and talk to her often, as they come to understand the magnitude of the gift she has given them.In 1958, Mary, Des, Barb, Jan and Tony, will welcome another baby home, Peter. And life continues.

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On the afternoon of 30 December 2024 my Mum called to tell me Nanna was dying and my heart broke. Though she was 92, it was a shock and there were so many stories still to hear, so many questions to ask. So much time I still wish I could spend with Nanna.We were so very lucky to get to spend her last day and night by her side, to watch the sunrise through the window by her side on her final day, to tell her how deeply and abundantly grateful we were to have had her. How deeply and abundantly we love her. She left us to rejoin Bridget and Des at 7am on 31 December 2024.This is the tribute I gave at her funeral on 16 January 2025, holding her and Bridget's hands, determined to pay homage to this great woman. Ave Maria.

Have a stool in the kitchen.

Have a stool in the kitchen.This is the advice Nanna gave me when I asked her: How do you raise children as beautiful and amazing as the four you have? Four children who would grow to collectively, raise six beautiful and amazing most amazing children, who themselves would go on to collectively raise–so far–the six most beautiful and amazing children ever born. What is your secret?Her response was as profound and understated as she was: have a stool in the kitchen.And in later years we may have sat on her walking frame or in our own homes with her more, but as children, unaware of the volume of labour going on around us while we perched on her kitchen stool, we would sit on there for hours to talk with her. In the early years when there was just three of us grandkids, it was one of those metal-framed ones with the vinyl covering and the flip down two steps, in later years it was the pine with the thick string or rope weaving that Pa had made in OT… And she would beat meringue for her lemon meringue pie with the hand whirring beater. And there’d always be left over scraps of pastry and we’d be allowed to make jam tarts using the offcuts. And we’d natter on. And it was simple and love filled and perfect.But the kitchen was also a site of rebellion with Nanna. A place where one could rise up against their unfair rulers.I recall very clearly one day sitting with Nanna, Pa and Mum in the living room at Naroon Road, where Nanna served a vegetable soup for lunch. I loved every meal Nanna ever served me and this soup was the exception that proved this rule.I moved the soup around, took some of my mother’s advice from her childhood and disappeared to the bathroom for a bit, came back and, seeing it was still there, moved it around in my bowl some more. Nanna noticed my unusual lack of appetite and asked me to help her in the kitchen and to bring my bowl. So I dutifully lifted my bowl from the plastic on bean bag type lap table that it would’ve been on, and followed her to the kitchen. With a conspiratorial wink, she had me do something I’ve not oft witnessed her do, get rid of food. She let me tip the soup down the sink. We then walked back to the living room, me gazing with even more admiration than normal up at her, and proudly holding my empty soup bowl for mum to witness. Obviously mum immediately identified the tip marks on the bowl that indicated it had been poured out not scooped out and called me on it, but Nanna remained adamant: Suzanne ate the soup in the kitchen, and now she’ll need dessert.Nanna knew hard work, inside the kitchen and outside it.Daughter to an incredible sole parent who worked as a live in housekeeper in homes far less fancy than the image now conjures, Nanna remembered every house they lived and worked and shared a single bed in. In her very young years, there was widowers Pop Mathers to Mr Lee, and nearby friends, most specially, Aunty Kitty. Nanna remembers living in Footscray when she was 2 years old, then Oakleigh. On to renting a bedroom in Richmond where her mum would advertise in The Argus for day work. Then onto Parkdale–where she and her Mum took a painful train trip home from town before the long walk home from the station after having her tonsils removed around age 10. Also here, Nanna was awarded Dux of the School in 1944 and received the prize of a book that she kept close still.Then finally, to Studley Avenue, Kew. The largest of all the homes with a sprawling garden, chooks, and, the first bed and bedroom that Nanna would ever have to herself.
To say that her childhood was different to the one she created and enabled for her descendants, would be to understate it.Nanna, despite having left school at 13, would go on lead Payroll at the Law Institute of Victoria for many years, and in so doing would become one of the first people in the country to operate a computer. For the younger people here, that computer would’ve taken up most of an office floor and been less powerful than any of the devices you watch Bluey on. A major achievement nonetheless. And, to my cousins and I in the eighties and nineties, this meant something hugely important: ready access to free computer paper.And beyond the computer paper, Nanna gave us scrabble games and hung our art and photos on her wall, and we spent Summers in Rye, and road hay bales at the La Trobe golf club Christmas party, and a million other good things.But it was Christmas that continued with few changes through all our lives. And Nanna gave us the best Christmases. Especially great given that her childhood meant that there was only serving others on Christmas, no gifts, or celebration traditions of her family’s own.The paper crowns from bon bons, the terrible humour, her at the head of the table presiding, being Santa by, first, the silver tree, then later the more traditional green plastic tree, handing gifts to her great grandchildren elves... Traditions held since any of our memories start. I was three months at my first one, my son was 8 days. At his first Sellars Clan Christmas, Molly was about three months. Erin and I spent most of the day with them both screaming–likely because they’d never been amongst so many people who were laughing so hard and anecdoting so loud– and various people would drop us snacks or champagne from time to time.In case that doesn’t make sense, we were in the dining room because, on Christmas at Nanna’s, that is where the kids play and the cutlery, plates and after dinner treats are stored, not where we eat. We eat in the carport like the polished bunch that we are and we love it. Then we go to the park to play cricket, trample saplings, survive the play equipment, and gather stories that we’ll tell around the table in the carport for years.And it’s these traditions–odd and non-traditional as they may sound–that hold all of us together and that Nanna has held us all together with.Nanna doted on all of us grand and great grandkids. And, like her nature, her approach was curious, playful, caring, honest and understated.Time moved as it must and we all started getting busy with all our adult things and there was less time with her.Happily for me, a whole heap of horrible things happened that meant I got some of this time back though and I got to start escorting her to her MTC matinees in 2023. The tone had changed a little from our left-over-pastry-tart making days. She would share wonderful anecdotes with me like how Pa would take her to a film at Kew Junction, walk her back to Studley Avenue and how– running late after enjoying a bit of a kiss and cuddle before the last corner–Pa, fearful of missing the last bus, would have to race off “hoppity go quick” to make it.As we sipped a well-earned chardonnay one day after around two hours of “cultural enlightenment”, one of the greatest adventures of my life began: Nanna asked me to help learn more about her ancestral family.While this journey does not feel like it lasted long enough and there were many stories and trips yet to share, I will be forever grateful for the strange gift of this time and the stories we did get to share. It allowed me to know her in a far deeper way and delivered us both, many tears yes, but also much joy and more than a few giggles.Recently at Amy and Lachie’s engagement party I was sitting with Nanna–using her walking frame as a seat as we did– and while we sat, I witnessed so many people cross the crowded room to talk to her. And when they got to her, she lit up and so did they. The room was loud with all the wonderful sounds of celebration- music and chatter and laughter- and Nanna’s hearing wasn’t great in later years. So when people got there, they knelt to talk to her. They genuflected. They made their way across the crowded room and formed a queue to kneel before her. And as I leant back in that walking frame cum chair, I thought, how right: People are undertaking a pilgrimage to pay homage. How right. Because she has endured, and strived and succeeded. But far more than that, she has endured and overcome and been joyous and open and loving and playful and curious and she has filled generations with the same.So perfectly fitting that there was a queue of people waiting to kneel before her. Ave Maria indeed.What a gift you have given us. How very lucky we are to have been your grandkids and your great grandkids. How very lucky we are to grieve your loss at 92 as deeply as we do. To not be able to just say, good innings, though it was one, but to feel that we didn’t get enough time with you. Thank you.So, when you get home today, if you don’t already have one there, pop a stool in your kitchen. Tell the stories of Nanna and her mum and her Des to those lucky enough to sit upon it. In this way, we’ll get to hold her close forever, just as she has–and will–continue to hold us close.