Rosemary (Rosie to we kids) was the beloved and adored wife of Russell (dec) for 61 years and was loved and cherished by her children Lynden (Lyn), Merran, Kirsten (Kirsty) and Graham, their partners Luke, Noel, Don and Meg, her grandchildren Tim, Hannah, Lauren, Ronan, and Ashley, and great grandchild Jasper. She held us all in her heart and will forever be in ours. We are truly grateful for the wonderful life we shared.

Eulogy from Kirsten Coster (third daughter) on behalf of the family with accompanying slide show (unable to load here sorry!)
(Slide 1 – Welcome) Mum was a particularly eloquent public speaker and these are therefore very big shoes to fill today – at this point mum would probably have laughed because she actually did have quite big feet! She was never more conscious of this fact than when she was travelling in China when they had just opened their doors to tourism. Standing at pedestrian crossing, mum would often find people standing beside her pointing at her feet and giggling. But for me here today, the size of the shoe relates to her exceptional talent. She won awards for public speaking at school, was considered inspirational as a public speaker by the Penguin Club of Australia and was highly regarded by her colleagues throughout her career running courses and lecturing.

Unaware of these accolades as a child, I was simply always struck by the calm and sophisticated resonance of her voice when she spoke, particularly in formal situations – like reading the many prayers she wrote for church or as kids we used to laugh a bit when she answered the phone as she’d use the same formal office voice to answer “870 2437 Rosemary Coster speaking” and we’d call it her sexy voice. Equally though mum could ham it up and was full of wit and humour, applied with perfect timing in her delivery. So, there is also enormous pressure to bring you some humour here today too – all while I try and do justice to honouring her essence, the impact she has had on so many of us here today, and the indelible mark she has left on our hearts.

We come together today all having shared different parts of this beautiful lady’s life – we are here wearing the varied hats of child, grandchild, daughter and son in-law, sister in-law, friend, colleague, carer, neighbour – and we are all fortunate enough to have been part of the amazing tapestry that made up the lady known as mum, Rosie, RoRo (first as an Aunty and then later as a Grandma) Rosemary (as her mum her preferred to be called), Sue (by dad), and Moses (by her school friends) – for a lady that didn’t really like nicknames she certainly had a few, some which will forever remain a mystery as to how she got them!

(slide 2 ) Mum was born in Hawthorn 4 September 1938 in a tiny little hospital on the corner of Burke and Canterbury Roads – it’s still a medical clinic to this day. The only child to Ethel and Harry Rowe, she was a particularly precious gift arriving on Father’s Day and after many years of trying (slide 3). Mum was also the only child in her generation in both her mother and fathers’ families until we think she was about 10 years old. With no one to play with for so much of her childhood at extended family get togethers, which included Sunday lunches at her grandparents’ house in Labassa Grove (slide 4 – don’t these look like a barrel of laughs), she recalled that she relied very heavily on the fun she had quietly with her dad Harry to get through them – these were definitely events where “children were to be seen and not heard.” For a little girl full of cheek and humour (slide 5) they must have been excruciating. For the most part these family get togethers were fairly uneventful, but mum recalled speaking up once when her rather fiery tempered grandfather spoke harshly to her grandmother at the dinner table, telling him “you can’t talk to her grandma that way”. Rather than being supported by those around the table as she had expected for sticking up for someone being treated badly to her mind, she got into serious trouble and had to leave the room. Despite this experience mum’s sense of right and wrong were not shaken and neither was her confidence in speaking up.

Life as a little girl was not all solemnity and silence though! Growing up at 831 as we used to call it (slide 6), mum was encouraged to live a full life, excelling in and enjoying her education. Her report card from Auburn Primary School (slide 7 – you’d think they’d put the tallest girl in the class on a seat wouldn’t you) was so glowing as the top student, that she was quickly put up a year when she started secondary school. Attending PLC when it was East Melbourne (slides 8), a typical report card for mum would describe her as cheerful, thoughtful, industrious, enthusiastic and popular with both her fellow-students and her teachers (slides PLC friends). Mum worked hard at school and enjoyed all aspects of it enormously (slide 9 – participating in the school Patchwork magazine). As with her childhood friend Alison, her friendships at PLC would last a lifetime Post school she attended all of the milestone school reunions and even, as an 18-year-old, the laying of the foundation stone for the new school at Burwood in 1956 which we girls then attended all those years later.

As a student mum excelled in many things, winning numerous prizes for handcraft, public speaking and gaining a Commonwealth Scholarship in 1955. But mum particularly loved English literature and English history – which kicked off a lifelong love of reading all about the kings and queens of England, particularly the Tudors – although she definitely wasn’t a monarchist. And most of all, she loved crafts. Grandma started her off, teaching her exceptional needle work, sewing and knitting but throughout mums life she expanded her craft repertoire enormously – she even taught herself tatting/lace making), Later in life these skills would be put to good use with we kids being lucky enough to enjoy the spoils of her talents: be it every day clothing (slide 10), including bathers (slide 11) Sunday best or later, school dances (slide 12), even fancy dress (slide 13), right up to Lyn’s wedding dress and Lyn and Merran’s bridesmaids dresses (slide 14).

Outside of school she enjoyed swimming (slide 15), dancing, piano and tennis (not bikes like she’d hoped as grandma thought they were too dangerous), and attending special dinners with her parents. These were quite fancy affairs with Grandpas work as a Director at AWA and high levels of etiquette were required – mum recalled being most embarrassed at one event though when unbeknown to her, a pea had escaped from her plate and rolled underneath. When the waiter lifted her empty plate, the offending pea appeared and his comment to mum in front of everyone was “madam, would you like that pea.”

But perhaps most of all as a young girl mum loved the family holidays, Cowes in particular (slide 16), Sunday drives and picnics, and spending time with friends and her little wire haired fox terrier Monty. On holidays they often stayed in guest houses on with regular family groups each year which meant that mum enjoyed large friendship groups (slide 17).

Strikingly, when you look back at the photos of mum as child, aside from noticing that she’s often laughing, you can see 3 common threads: friends for life, a love of Australian landscapes, and photography. From an early age mum shared a passion for photography with her dad (slide 18) who had won at least one prize for some of his photography and she often has a camera in hand or around her neck in photos (slide 19). This is one of her first cameras. She took so many beautiful photos throughout all her life (slide 20) but it did mean that she was often behind the camera rather than in front it. Not to say that she wasn’t obliging when you asked to take her photo as you can see from the many portraits we’ll show you here today – some of the most stunning ones as a young women in particular, were taken by dad who was also very talented – here are some of my favourites (slide 21 & 22).

As we all know mums biggest love was dad (slide 23 – possibly meeting around the time of this photo but it’s hard to tell dad’s age at any point in this life!). One of her favourite recollections was the first day they clapped eyes on each other. Mum was attending dancing classes at the H.J.Myer School of Movement and Languages in Hawthorn – she was just 14. The principals Hans and Alice were also examiners of the London National Institute of Deportment so it was rather a strict and formal place. Mum hadn’t really been enjoying it that much because being tall for her age all the boys were shorter than her. But as mum’s class didn’t have enough male partners, a group of older boys from the senior classes were asked to attend. The girls were duly lined up on one side of the room and as the boys came in there were many murmurings amongst them about the good-looking boy in the line. Mum was delighted when he made a B-line straight for her. She couldn’t understand why – but seriously both mum and dad never considered themselves as good looking people. It’s funny to read mum’s ‘modern ballroom practical tests’ prior to dad’s arrival on the scene – overall she was achieving a bronze medal standard, needing footwork finessing. Then suddenly with dad, the two of them would then go on to win the annual dance competition – much to the chagrin of Hans and Alice who had pegged dad for older students, in fact when dad had first said to them that he was going to enter the competition with mum, Alice had apparently exclaimed, ‘what, the Rowe girl”.

So, from just the tender age of 15 starts to appear in photos of family picnics (slide 24) and accompanying mum to things like her debutant ball (slide 25) and parties (slide 26). Mum had quietly freaked out a little bit when dad had casually mentioned that he was going home to Yallorn for the weekend for his 21st. So while it was love at first sight for dad, mum was young, and he knew that she needed to grow by herself. Mum continued to do many things by herself and he waited patiently for her to catch up – just quietly though it appears that at the same time Harry and Ethel adopted dad as a son anyway. While there would be at least one summer crush that we knew mum had, mum remembered the moment that she realised she had fallen in love with dad as a moment putting her head on his shoulder, sitting in the back seat of a car with dad coming home from a Coster picnic – apparently Aunty Merm was in the front seat and had noticed, and just smiled at them. Eventually they would be secretly engaged for 2 years before they announced it but I’m slightly jumping ahead. I wonder whether they were secretly engaged when these photos were taken (slide 27)

It was mums second love of crafts that drew mum to Occupational Therapy (OT) (slide 28 – this is her with her course skeleton. She did have a name for it but I can’t recall it, judging by the photo and her love of acting it could have been Yorick). This enabled her to add things like weaving, pottery, and metal and leather work to her skill set (this is a brass bowl mum made in the course). While craft attracted her to OT it was her drive to care for people and passion for community that meant that it was a perfect career match for her. She graduated from the Victorian School of Occupational therapy with a Diploma in OT in 1959 (slide 29 – mum on the far right on the day) and of course with more lifelong friends (slide 30). Throughout her career she would later give occasional lectures at Lincoln Institute when the course was held there, and again, also attend all the reunions.

Mum’s first position as an OT was working with psychiatric repatriation patients in Rockingham in Kew and mum always spoke very fondly of her time there. Within just 3 years, she had achieved the role of Deputy Chief OT.

While working at Rockingham mum and dad married 4 March 1961 (slides 31 – at 831 and her brides’ maids & lifelong friends Alison & Liz , 32 – entering the church with Harry and leaving with dad whom she would then spend the next 62 years with, slide 33 – this is them leaving for their honeymoon). On return from their honeymoon though mum recalled that of all the skills she had, she had in fact never cooked a meal. She nervously started with meat and three veg as what she thought dad might like. We kids found this astounding as we only knew mum as a fantastic cook, even if you’d only ever had her Sunday roast, you’d have thought this. We grew up with mum trying all kinds of new recipes and always making improvements of her own – dad incessantly reminding her to write down the changes she made so she could repeat them. Not only did she make every birthday, Christmas and easter special with her cakes – I worked out she must have made about 80 birthday cakes for our family (slide 34) and hosted numerous parties, she created traditions like Mexican egg boats, pickled cherries, and brandy sauce (of course not together), she also grew her own mushrooms (we may have insisted on this so she no longer made us get out and pick mushrooms from paddocks on our drives in the country – I can still hear her exclaiming from the from seat to dad when she’d spotted some and to pull over nearby). And another favourite was her ginger beer – sadly this ended when it all exploded under the house one summer.

It was mum’s greatest wish to have a family of 4 children after she’d seen how much fun dad and his 3 sisters had had together. As an only child and perhaps rose-coloured classes of what it would be like to have sibling, meant that she would sometimes despair when we fort and exclaim “ I never would have treated my brother/sister that way”. But anyway, thanks to the advice of a doctor, who when they asked for some family planning advice had said “not to worry it will take some time”, mums wish arrived fairly quickly – just shy of 1 year after their wedding. Lynden or Lyn as she prefers, was born 8 March 1962 (slide 35). Just shy of 3 and half years later, Merran was born 31 August 1965 (slide 36), in another 3 years I would be born 26 November 1968 (slide 37), and then finally Graham 18months after me, 27 May 1970 (slide 38)

When Lyn was born mum and dad were just starting to build their first house, 2 Morinda Street, Ringwood East (slide 39 – mum by a fire one night possibly contemplating the length of time the build was taking even then, one of the many lunches mum made for the workers, Grandpa, Uncle Lance & Lyn (!!) building the roof – no work safe practices on this worksite). It would be the start of a very long wait for mum to see a finished house and many rental moves, initially here in Melbourne prior to moving into the house unfinished (slide 40 – mum making the most of the unfished house with its concrete floors and ramps for stairs at this time), and several more moves again when mum and dad moved to Paynesville – all of the moves managed by mum.

But in 1967 Mum was baby-sitting at a friend’s house down the road when she came across a job advertisement for a City Engineer for the newly created City of Bairnsdale. She knew that in dad’s field, that a country experience was needed in order to have a successful career and encouraged him to apply. Fortuitously at the time as well, 2 school friends of mum’s also happened to be living there, Anne Parton and Rosemary Hawkesley. And so mum’s family of 4 arrived in Paynesville (slide 41) – Graham and I being born in Bairnsdale later to make a family of 6.

Even while mum was raising 4 young children in Bairnsdale (slide 42) she participated in community activities in a voluntary capacity working as a lifeline counsellor, establishing a Nursing Mother Association Group, and was Secretary of the parish Local Education Committee. Having been a professional, mum had to adjust to initially only being known as the City Engineers wife, but her volunteering and membership of The Penguin public speaking club and golf club soon returned her sense of self. The 6 years mum and dad spent in Paynesville were some of the happiest days they had together – it’s not surprising that they have asked that their ashes be scattered there. But with the devastating passing of mum’s dad Harry, mum wanted to be closer to her mum and Lyn had just reached secondary school age, so Melbourne beckoned them back.

On returning to Melbourne mum’s career was about to take off again – while dad and I talked shop a lot, mum didn’t really talk about her work with us. While she would bring case files home sometimes, she never did any work while we were around – when she was at home she was just ‘present’ for us as kids. But we’ve been able to piece her career together based on some very good record keeping, including many press articles and lots of people’s reflections.

In 1973 she was asked to be a member of the original committee established within St. Stephens Uniting Church to examine the feasibility of establishing a community care service. Mum recollected that while she was at Rockingham she noticed that people who seemed to have been rehabilitated often came back in need of more help and questioned whether they had been rehabilitated at all. Also, while the setting at Rockingham was lovely, it wasn’t the real world and the skills they were giving them were not the right skills. These observations had been percolating in the back of her mind while she had then spent the previous 11 years raising her own family and which she drew on to inform the feasibility.

The committee recommended the development of the Maroondah Social Health Centre (now known as Each Community Health), an independent, community managed, human support service which mum then helped to establish. Opened by the Hon. Gough Whitlam in September 1974, also in attendance was his wife, Margaret. The thing that most stood out to mum on that day that she liked to share, was a short but very memorable interaction with Margaret. Mum was standing in the line of people to shake hands with Gough and Margaret and upon Margaret meeting mum, this very tall lady (and mum was a tall lady herself) towered over her and in a deep regal voice had said “haven’t I met you somewhere before?” Mum just said “I don’t believe so I think I just have one of those faces” and had to hold back a chuckle at the pompousness of the interaction.

(slide 43) Mum was appointed the first staff member establishing an OT department where she ran a wide array of activity programs and self-help groups for isolated people and people with a disability, pioneered the development of large scale involvement of volunteers in health care programs (including training and support programs for them), developed a psycho social rehabilitation program and provided a vital community development role for the organisation

One of the challenges of working for organisations that rely on Government funding is the uncertainty that sadly arises from such reliance. Consequently, there are applications after applications, once you’ve got a grant then there’s mountains of paperwork required to be completed to justify every cent spent, and the challenge of maintaining a high enough profile to keep politicians interested and egos stoked in order that they may be less inclined to cut precious funding. There was an occasion though, a bit like the Sunday lunch at Labassa Grove where there was an injustice to speak about, she couldn’t stay quite when she saw that funding was not keeping up with inflation leaving more and more to the community and spoke out. In an article published in The Age titled “Centre Threat’ from R, Coster for the staff at Maroondah Social Health Centre, mum put her case of increasingly long waiting lists for vital services and looming professional staff reductions.

After 11 years at Maroondah Social Health Centre (on her departure she was made a Life Governor) it was time for a new challenge. In 1985 mum joined Doveton Hallam Endeavour Hills (later known as Berwickwide) Community Health Service to take on the position of Community Health Worker (slide 44). There, over a 14-year period, mum continued to enjoy being part of multi-disciplinary team and was totally committed to the concept of health promotion through education and self-support. She believed strongly in a flexible approach being essential to developing the community’s resources and delivering services to meet the needs of the community. Where she had become a little frustrated that she hadn’t been able to do preventative work at Maroondah, now she was able to add personal development to her expertise. She went on to deliver programs in the areas of assertiveness training, relaxation and stress management, parenting skills and family counselling, and pain management – the emphasis being on the provision of self-help skills for individuals, improving family relationships and the functioning of families within the community.

Mums’ contribution was such that the local press wrote an article about her return to her role after a long absence when she broke her hip in 1987 (slide 45). It spoke to how the centre was now operating under full steam again following her return, and then interviewed “the stylish, quietly spoken professional” about her own personal rehabilitation. Interestingly she acknowledged that she has had to do all the things she tells her clients to do when she guides them through the stages of rehabilitation – as her children we observed someone perhaps living out “do as I say, not as I do” – let’s just say mum’s commitment to physiotherapy rehab was not the greatest.

For those of us who entered the workforce back last century there was a time you had to provide written references both personal and from former employers. Amazingly mum had kept all of these and, much like her school report cards, there are consistent themes: she was acknowledged as a leader, an outstanding professional with warm regard for her client’s welfare, someone who had a great sense of responsibility, integrity, powers of organisation and innovation who was conscientious and sensitive in her caring. I found a personal reference from Frank Tinney which summed her up beautifully – “She is a gentle lady whose understanding, wisdom, experience and conscientious approach will enable her to make an extremely valuable contribution to any organisation. Her patience, understanding and her serenity of manner under all circumstances have been an inspiration to all with whom she has had contact. Professionalism, dedication and obvious concern for the needs of the people in her care have been the hallmarks of her work.”

Mum retired December 1998 (slide 46) with the respect and affection of both clients and staff. You can learn so much about a person from what others say. Amongst all the well wishes people consistently thanked her for her beautiful smile, her expertise in so many areas, her wonderful support and wisdom, her calm leadership and dry wit, her positive outlook and innovative genius. As one colleague said, “even royalty must retire, the end of an era”. Another colleague absolutely summed mum up though. In thanking mum for just being her she remarked that mum had a wonderful inner and external beauty that make her a very special person. She felt privileged in having known and worked with her.

Amongst a retirement benefits checklist that her colleagues wrote for her, which essentially listed 13 things she would no longer have to do, in addition to all the paperwork, submissions and meetings she’d no longer have to do, there were numerous housekeeping things like not having to lock the building up on her own at night, fighting fire in the female toilets and changing the toilet role because no else did – my personal favourite was “no more problems with numerical dyslexia” which I found funny but also meant that in addition to never taking herself too seriously mum or having tasks beneath her, she actually had something she wasn’t good at!

Mums’ ability to laugh at herself (slide 47) extended all the way to the workplace. A story goes that one day someone was in the staff room making a cup of tea and mum had apparently been to the toilet. Mum allegedly walked into the kitchen and then with her hands outstretched declared that she had a problem, and with that, her slacks fell down around her ankles having experienced a wardrobe malfunction of the worst kind.

Outside of her work within the organisations she worked for, mum was also very active in a wide range of community organisation in local health related fields, giving of her own time and energy and often representing the organisations she worked for. She was approached to be on numerous Boards like Arthritis Foundation of Victoria, Outer Eastern Council for Mental Health, and Palliative Care Australia where she contributed to policy and planning programs, she was also on a range of Steering Committees and Sub Committees such as the Outer Eastern Council for Service Development for Emotionally Disturbed People and Bioethics Committee for the Uniting Church in Australia Victoria Synod (1986-2011) – disbanded to form a broader “Ethics Committee”. She was used as a consultant by the State Government Mental Health Division to establish Integrated Health Delivery. She provided specialist lecturing to Palliative Care Services, Austin Oncology, Maroondah Casualty, as well as providing clinical supervision of OT students, and provided tutorials and supervised casework for medical students, community health nurses and post graduate psychologists working towards clinical accreditation. In the International year of the volunteer mum was recognised by the Hon. Steve Bracks.

Like dad she was a very active member of St. Stephens Uniting Church taking an active leadership role in the life of the church including as Elders, they were both also elected members of Maroondah Presbytery of the Church – taking on the responsibilities involved in those appointments. There are a number of dear friends here today that shared in that life. As a kid I recall sitting next to mum at church and holding her hand as they were particularly soft and I liked to play with the ends of her long nails, while I waited for the next hymn and then tried to sing along with mum’s beautiful voice. Not surprisingly, after the long working weeks mum and dad had, we were often late to church. On the days when we arrived with them (if we had walked ourselves to Sunday School beforehand) it was mortifying to have to try and find a pew for 6 people. But I think these disruptions were more than made up for by mum and dads many other contributions, not the least of which would’ve been the annual church play (slide 48 – one of the many plays). Mum was a born actress and the play that sticks out the most for us was a western where mum was playing a sultry saloon girl. As required by the role, with a feather in her hair, burlesque outfit and classic American drole, she sat high on a bar stool in the saloon, she had her skirt pulled up on one side to flash her leg while winking at the crowd as she delivered her lines – the role of one of the other actors was to keep pulling her skirt back down. It had everyone in stitches.

But of all mum’s roles, we were lucky to call her mum (slide 49). I recently read a newspaper article which was an interview in 1989 about her role at Doveton Hallam. The journalist was clearly a frustrated author I think given the language but bear with me. The day of the interview was apparently “hot and blustery”, and the journalist noted that “the tall woman was calm, welcoming, unpretentious and assured. She likes what she does and is serene – conscious of her good fortune in having been able to arranger her life.” It is this last part – “having been able to arrange her life”, that grabbed my attention. Mum truly was a trailblazer in community health and family therapy, but in “arranging her life” she was part of the first generation of women to lead the way in the pursuit of a balanced life, built around a strong family unit and a successful career (not one or the other). It was not without its compromises; mum would often be found in the kitchen (dad usually asleep at the kitchen table with some ABC tv show on in the background) making school lunches and ironing uniforms and business shirts for dad at midnight for us. It’s fair to say too that mum’s work was often very stressful and her patience could sometimes be very thin by the time she got home. She, like dad would often be exhausted – the kindest thing you could ever give mum in those moments was a back tickle (she actually gave the best ones), or to comb her hair or massage her tired feet. We grew up being latch door kids and by secondary school would often cook meals mum had taught us how to make because she’d be coming home late. But we were proud of mum’s work, and she was an amazing role model for us. There was also the upside that because mum couldn’t take off work for every school holiday grandma Rowe would come and stay with us, so we got to spend lots of time with her.

Despite long working days mum was always there to help take us to all our sport, music and clubs (there was tennis, netball, ballet, piano, brownies, cubs, guides, scouts); she was there to take care of you whenever you were sick whether it was soothingly rubbing vix vapour rub on a congested chest or being bedside for any hospital situations; she made sure we had the best holidays (slide 50 & 51 – all of us in the caravan, mum cooking up a storm as usual in the tiny kitchen, taking some well earned rest), our favourite being Pambula every summer but even when dad couldn’t take time off in other school holidays, dad would drop us all off in the caravan somewhere like Maldon or Bendigo, and we’d have great holidays with mum still going on drives and seeing all the sights; mum made every Christmas special (slides 52) stuffing stockings for us with all kinds of treats and little tree decorations to build up our own collections and buying all the presents – as little kids she’d buy presents for all of us to give one another and on Christmas Eve we’d each take it in turns to pick a gift to give each person and wrap them with her in secrecy in her bedroom; there were all the family picnics (slide 53) we went on when mum would make her famous coleslaw for the BBQ; at easter she taught us how to make beautiful easter eggs by wrapping hens eggs in fern leaves and the like, and dying them; she helped us with homework – particularly if it was English, history or art elated! She created so many special moments.

For us girls in particular mum also instilled in us a love of craft teaching us to sew and knit. She was most definitely well before her time in teaching us the art of wardrobe capsule dressing (for those that aren’t familiar with this it’s a curated small collection of clothing and accessories that can be mixed and matched to create a variety of outfits). She taught us how to cook and gave us a love of indoor plants, particularly ferns – often these would be “rescued treasures” from a day in the bush where mum would spot them on a road side where a road grader had been through and churned them up – out would come the empty ice cream containers and small shovel in the back of Paddy that were always there just in case.

Becoming a grandmother was a proud moment for mum. First there was Tim in 1994 (slide 54), then Lauren in 1995 (slide 55), Hannah in 1996 (slide 56) and a little later Ronan in 2005 (slide 57) and Ashley in 2007 (slide 58). You can see the joy in her face, but I will leave it to Lauren to share their memories of Grandma RoRo a little later. So, mum’s family of 6 was now 15 (slide 59). More recently this has grown with the addition of Tim’s wife Amy and the arrival of the first great grandchild, Jasper.

In retirement mum enjoyed reading all the books she had been putting off while working so hard, including joining a lovely book club friendship group (slide 60). She had always read a lot on holidays but otherwise struggled to stay awake any other time. And where once she would try reading in the car on our many trips and ended up in the full crumple position beside dad (head lolling), in retirement she was now in fact dad’s personal audio book, reading to him as he drove them on many travels including all the way and back to Margaret River across the Nullarbor. Finally, mum also had time to travel (slide 61) spending some wonderful overseas trips with dad including trips to China, NZ, Scandinavia, UK, France and Ireland, but also continuing to their road trips here (slide 62). As she had all her life, mum penned many postcards and kept travel diaries (slides 63).

Many people have shared their special reflections on mum with us and a common theme was her elegance. As mum put it, she never left home without “her face on” (slide 64 – 3 deft sweeps of her lipstick), and she always had beautiful nails. She was famous for her hair bun and fashion coordination which included her love for all things blue – particularly in aqua, teal and turquoise shades like this scarf – we often call something Rosie blue. As kids we loved it when mum and dad would dress up to go out. We’d be sitting in the kitchen watching tele and mum would open the door to say goodbye before they went and there’d be a gentle waft of perfume and mum smiling, her hair all done up.

And yes mum had some funny little quirks! – like having to have a coffee and a chocolate before bed (despite this she was the best sleeper I’ve ever known); needing a coffee to get out of bed on working weekdays (we’d leave the cup beside the snuggled ball that was under the sheets); as kids we had to make mum and dad birthday cards (not buy them) – and they appear to have kept them all; later in life technology would challenge mum and we’d frequently hear harrumphing or “oh there’s something wrong with my phone” or indeed the tv; growing up when she was flustered, she often couldn’t get our names right (sometimes even using Sheeba our dogs name) and we also joked about being “someone”, “anybody” or in bad cases “nobody”); mum would also come out with the best spoonerisms – “rut the shudy door’ was a classic – it was supposed to be shut the ruddy door when Graham was little and hiding behind a partially closed kitchen door when there was a scary part in Dr Who but was letting cold air in from the unheated loungeroom. Mum always put pen to paper to thank people for things including poems – such as one she wrote for the fisherman that stayed opposite us at Pambula who gave us luckless fisherman some of their spoils; and she also wrote to brighten people’s day – once she wrote a hilarious letter to a secondary form teacher of Merran’s, Mrs Dodd who had complained that she never got interesting letters from parents explaining a student’s absence. Merran, having handed her absentee letter to Mrs Dood noticed that she then choose of all places to open it sitting in the row along the wall at the full school assembly. Mrs Dodd took great joy in passing it down the row of her colleagues to have a quite chuckle as well – all Merran could see was a Mexican row of bobbing teachers’ heads. We never did find out what the letter said but it certainly cheered Ms Dodd up!

Perhaps a lesser-known part of mum’s character though was her amazing pain threshold (slide 65). Clearly any women who has given birth to 4 children would know something of this but the first we really knew of this as kids was when mum broke her hip on a holiday in Pambula on the beach of all places – having stood on a bee she was balancing while dad tried to get the sting out but as a wave washed the sand from underneath her foot she twisted and toppled. Getting her off the beach was no mean feat and then she had to endure a long ambulance ride to Bega where finally a replacement artificial hip joint would be inserted. In her lifetime mum would go on to endure a further 2 hip replacements, 2 knee replacements, a devastating degenerative hand condition, osteo arthritis in her spine, lymphedema and circulatory issues but she never made a fuss and just got on with life. She was actually more inclined to make a fuss about avoiding wind in her hair or water in her ears when swimming (slide 66 – hamming the effect up for dad here) , slide 67 – but it was the wispy bits that would get in her eyes that bothered her). In the last couple of years though mum would often remark that “getting old has warts on it” and her other favourite saying was “the old grey mayor aint what she used to be.” In losing her beloved Russ 2 years ago we saw the huge impact this had on mum and it’s understandable and fair to say she didn’t want to be here without him. She definitely felt his presence in their apartment though which gave her some comfort.

It’s hard to talk about mum without it also being about dad though (slide 68). They were such intelligent, well rounded, loving people and they were a package deal for us. They were great listeners and fantastic conversationalists. They were there for you no matter what, good times and bad, and brought calm and support whenever needed. They were generous, philanthropic and community spirited. They were adventurous. They were deeply spiritual and were lifelong learners. They were full of integrity and never shirked responsibilities no matter how tired they were. They were dignified and gracious and had a mutual adoration of one another (slide 69 – even the queen congratulated them on their 60 years together). They loved a good laugh but most of all they loved life and made the most of it. Together they created our family, our home, so many special memories, provided deep care and love, and so many other loves like reading, art and art galleries, music, theatre, wine, long drives and picnics, nature and bush walking, and photography. They enjoyed sharing all of these with us and in fact from our late teens right up to COVID Merran and I had enjoyed going to the MTC with mum and dad, dissecting the play with a drink after the show; we were all lucky enough, taking it turns, to join them at the MSO, and even occasionally going to the Australian Ballet.

At times we didn’t realise that we would develop the same loves – particularly for example when a little boy was once dragging his feet on a family bush walk, making a loud raucous noise banging a large stick against trees as he walked by and was told to “shut up and enjoy the bush” by a very frazzled mum. We never let mum live that one down. When we were kids, we may have whined about another winery or yet another gallery (like when they bought this bird sculpture, this symbolizes so much about them but the day they bought this we had been waiting in the car for what seemed an eternity to us. They came out, sculpture in hand and practically knowing the artists life story – they just had a genuine interest in everybody). As adults we got to enjoy all of these things with mum and dad, including so many more wonderful holidays with them, beautiful places like Margaret River, Kangaroo Island, The Grampians, exploring Tasmania to name a few, for a time there were all the weekends away to their Maldon cottage (slide 70), there were also all the Easter family holidays, milestone birthdays, Wedding Anniversaries and New Year’s eve celebrations, many winery visits to replenish cellars, and “let’s just check out this place again” weekends away.

Mum frequently told us how grateful she was for her wonderful life and all the care and love she had. She often reflected on how blessed she had been, and we feel sure that she is blessed to be together with dad again now.

We will miss your beautiful smile and gentle and generous heart mum (slide 71). As with dad, with great love comes huge grief. As we reshape our lives without you physically, we will carry you always in our hearts. Thank you for everything, blessings to you dear love.

Reflections from Graeme Pogue (former Minister and dear friend of mum and dad)
Antoinette Sallit said:

“Life is strange. We come with nothing and fight for everything, and in the end, we leave everything and go with nothing. Life is a fleeting journey, a cycle of gaining and letting go. We arrive with empty hands, yet we spend our days chasing, building, and holding on, as if we can outrun time itself. We grasp at love, success, meaning, desperate to make something of the brief moments we are given. And yet, no matter how much we gather, there comes a day when we must release it all. But perhaps the beauty of life is not in what we keep, but in what we give, the love we share, the kindness we leave behind, the lives we touch along the way.”

It seems I have been saying goodbye in different ways to quite a few of my friends over the last little time.
Somewhere along this pathway of life I too have become old, but for the life of me, I can’t remember exactly when or how it happened.

I have known Rosemary and Russel for nigh on twenty years, and I know that many of you have known them for many more years than that. For the better part of those twenty years Russell and Rosie, as he used to call her, were part of our Mandorla group. So close were they that it is hard for me to think of them separately. In our little group we would meet and have a shared lunch, a glass or two of our preferred beverage, and then we would retire to more comfortable seats and discuss topics prepared mostly by their heretic minister. Last week Merran and Kirsty delivered two boxes that contained a large collection of reading matter that I think was gathered as part of the preparation and research related to what we have discussed over the past twenty years. Most of our discussions were quite vibrant.

Such was the energy that some of our members would back off a bit and say very little if at all during those discussions. Occasionally one or two would fall asleep lulled by a glass of wine or because they were simply bored by a discussion in which they had no real interest. One of our number passes the time by retelling jokes that we have all heard many, many times before. Russell, however, would always arrive with pages of detailed notes and comments, meticulously arranged and catalogued in response to the questions asked alongside the set reading for each meeting. I am sure that Rosemary contributed much to that meticulous preparation. Although never reticent to add her bit, Rosemary usually remained fairly silent in these sometimes-animated discussions, and it was obvious that she and Russell had read and discussed the material at some depth before attending each meeting. Russell would engage in robust predictable fashion especially with some of the more contentious views offered by one or two members of the group.

And occasionally Rosemary would try to curb what she thought was Russell’s overly enthusiastic participation in the discussion.

I particularly remember one occasion, after Russel had sadly left us, we discussed the concept of feeling alone as distinct from being lonely. Even in the midst of a crowd, we can experience a profound sense of aloneness. As an only child, Rosemary reflected that she had always felt alone even within a loving family. And now that Russell had left her, she had returned once again to that profound “aloneness” that she experienced as an only child, an aloneness that many people can experience even though they are still living within community.

Generally a quiet supportive couple. They were not exactly publicly demonstrative in their love for each other, but their obvious love and affection for each other, revealed itself in the gentle respect they had for each other and the subtle calm support and admiration that they each had for the love of their life.

No doubt their offspring would have seen this, as well as a more human side. Perhaps they occasionally saw a less gentle manner to that relationship than I did, but to me, they represented the sort of parents I wished I had. I do wish I had known them for more than those brief twenty years.

So I think that the words of Antoinette Sallit hold especially true for this wonderful couple. The beauty of their life together was not in what they kept or accumulated, but far more so in what they gave. The children they reared, their grandchildren, the love they shared, the kindness they left behind, and in the lives they deeply touched along the way. Our rapidly diminishing little group has lost a great deal with their passing and as important as it may be for those of us who are left, it is hard to imagine our little group returning to the vibrancy it once had when Rosemary and Russell were present each month.

They were a great gift to us and will be sadly missed by our group and by all their friends from St Stephen’s.

Eulogy from Lauren
Hi everyone. I’m Lauren, or Lollie to family, and I’m very lucky to be one of Rosie’s grandkids and Merran’s daughter. I’ll be speaking/crying today on behalf of Rosie and Russ’ five grandchildren. Tim, Hannah, Ronan, Ash and myself.

For Hannah, Rosie was always one of the first people she would call before a trip to Melbourne, eager to arrange a long chat over a cup of tea. Her fondest memories of Rosie were made during the simplest, seemingly mundane moments – driving through the Dandenong Ranges with her and Russ, classical music playing as they wound their way to a quiet coffee shop for (of course) another cup of tea.

Hannah would stand beside her in the kitchen, preparing dinner on warm summer evenings, watching Russ tinker with something outside, often needing to call him at least three times before he finally came in. And, in the wintertime, the electric blanket was always turned on before we got into bed.

Rosie and Russ’ house truly became a home for Hannah on so many of her trips to Melbourne from Brisbane as she adjusted to life back in Australia. Rosie’s welcoming embrace was always so warm, no doubt helped by her closet overflowing with soft cardigans in every shade of teal. Hannah’s love for teal must have been inherited from someone as effortlessly stylish as Rosie. It was hard not to be inspired by her taste in fashion!

For Tim, Rosie was a great role model in having a calm but firm approach to life. Reflecting at how he has grown, he sees so many of his great qualities attributed to Rosie and Russ and their effortlessly calm demeanour and love for family and quality time. Spending time with them was always a great way to relax and appreciate the simple pleasures, like spending quality time over a coffee at Kuranga nursery. Looking back at his childhood, one standout memory was the amazing Christmas smorgasbord that was had at the amazing house in Morinda Street. Whilst it was a short period of time, Tim has immense appreciation that Rosie was able to be present to experience being a grandparent all over again for his son Jasper. Rosie seemed to have a new spark everytime she got to see Jasper, even if it was a highlight video that was shared between visits.

Now, because I have a flair for the dramatic, I’ve always thought of Rosie as a bit of an iron fist in a velvet glove, in her role as a grandmother. She was a formidable woman, capable of corralling her grandkids with a single look. Perhaps she learned it from raising four children? Who knows. A raised eyebrow or pursed lip was enough for you to stop whatever nonsense you were doing. And we did a lot of nonsense. We grandkids were allowed to run riot at Morinda St, hiding in cupboards and exploring — but if you messed up the good couches, you’d know all about it.

She was an effortless matriarch. I remember as a child, whenever she would come by our house, you’d know other Costers would start arriving in the next hour or so. As the head of the family, it was like she was magnetically drawing us to her. And there was no better woman to be drawn to.

But honestly, Rosie was so much more velvet than iron. She would play fairies with me in the garden, always letting me play the fairy princess, of course. She would bake Nutties, making sure to teach me how to properly measure dry ingredients. She taught me to hold my pen properly, and once spent an hour making sure all my colouring pencils were sharpened. A consummate OT.

She was never short of a wink or a cheeky grin. She was always so interested in what I thought about things and what I was up to.

She was so completely elegant and discerning, and so thoroughly funny. She taught her grandchildren to love ballet and theatre, and how to choose the right fork at dinner.

I’m just as in awe of her today as I was when I was a kid. The echoes of Rosie’s love for her grandchildren will remain with us forever – in a cup of tea, a piece of classical music, or a splash of teal.

Alison Laird (best friend from childhood)
I hope you don’t mind Alison but I took the liberty of putting a couple of photos together of the 2 of you.

(slide 1) Rosemary, my oldest and very dear friend, plays a large part in my childhood memories and has been a continuing presence throughout my life. I vividly remember the day when, aged 5 or 6, I went to her house (just around the street from mine) to ask if I could go to Sunday school with her, and the fun we had and jokes we played walking home from the church!

(slide 2) Rosemary’s family home, where we spent many hours growing up, was like a second home to me. The huge oak tree in her back garden, Monty the wire-haired terrier, the paper mâché plates we made, my reading aloud while Rosemary and Ethel did chores, the family outings and picnics in Betsy, the old black car with its running board, all hold precious memories for me.

But mostly it was Rosemary’s continuing presence where we were able to talk freely and share each other’s lives.

(slide 3) Rosemary taught me the value of lifelong friendship – the honour of being one of her bridesmaids, the shared meals with friends and barbecues with our families and, over many years, our lunches and attendances at Australian Chamber Orchestra concerts.

Rosemary was the calmest and kindest of people, always ready to share her life, ready to listen with an interest in others, and always prepared to help , and she helped and supported me during a difficult time. Her closeness with Russell and all her family was an inspiration to us all.

Rosemary, you will be deeply missed, but never forgotten, and your friendship and spirit will always be part of us, including ringing people’s door bells and then running away and hiding.