Pauline Rae - Eulogy


This is my sister's Eulogy that I delivered at her funeral service on 13 November 1996






Pauline Helen RAE

Born 6 August 1946 - Died 9 November 1996



13 November 1996

Paul - A Celebration of Your Life

Pauline Helen Rae was born of Herb and Helen Richardson in the Royal Women’s Hospital here in Brisbane on 6 August 1946. She died peacefully last Saturday the 9th of November 1996 at 9.05pm in Mount Olivet Hospital at Kangaroo Point.

Paul lived for only fifty short years, but she sure left a mark that will not easily be erased.

I recall wondering when Paul was born, “What right does she have to come into my home and occupy so much of mum and dad's and gran and pop's - that's Florence and Bill Cassidy's - time?"  After all, I was a young man of four years and six months and until then I had been the centre of all their attention.  I determined not to let her get away with it.

I certainly tried but now, I guess, it's her payback time.  She left the message that she would like me to say a few words during the celebration of her life.  Fair enough, in the circumstances there is nothing I would prefer to do better.  However, the next few minutes will be the hardest I have ever had to face.  I really wish you were here beside me babe holding my hand and helping me through them.  But then again, I bet you are.

Paul attended primary school at Wavell Heights Convent.  She moved on to Mt. Alvernia at Kedron and finished her schooling at the end of year 10 as a boarder at St. Ursula's College in Toowoomba.  She had a well-rounded education and she never tired of telling anyone who cared to listen of the lesson that really finished it off.  It went something like this:

Her religion teacher at St Ursula's, Mother Ursula, invited the class into the playground to discuss a delicate matter that one of the girls had sought information on.  Sex.

"Girls," said Mother Ursula when they had reached the anonymity of the playground, "until the day you marry, never allow a boy to touch you between the shoulders and the knees. That's all you need to know."

Paul was a very satisfactory sister to John, David and me, except possibly for the time that she sat watching Johnny climb the big gum tree that overhung our fence from our neighbour's yard. The higher he climbed, the more she would chant, “You're going to fall."  She kept it up until she finally convinced him that he would fall, which he did, thereby causing considerable damage to the roof of dad's chook house.

We brothers allowed her to reach maturity.  Probably the fact that mum had packed her of to boarding school had something to do with that.

After she left school, Paul heard that jobs were readily available in New Zealand.  We all thought it was a bit of a joke but we stopped laughing when she told us she had applied for and obtained a job in a hotel in Wellington.

Two years later she came home - but there was no stopping her then.  She had the wanderlusts.  Next she was into the Air Force and off to Adelaide.  Her next posting was to Sydney where she met and fell madly in love with a young soldier boy, Peter Rae.  This was the Vietnam era and after Peter received notification that he was off to Nam, they became engaged and soon married.

Vietnam was the war that those of us who didn't have to go didn't want to know about and didn't care about anyhow.  What a terrible mistake that was.  We sent a lot of boys to fight in that most horrific of environments, the jungle.  Many of them were just boys when they left, but they came back as men whose lives had changed for ever.

Peter went to Vietnam and while he was there, Peter Sean was born.  When he finished his tour of duty, the little family tried to start afresh.  Jason was born and for a time, all was well.  However, it soon became clear that they were not the same couple as they had been.  On the day they married, Pete was little more than a boy and Paul a girl.  When they next met, he was a man and she a mother.  The fire of love soon faded to a flame that, if you didn't know the script, turned to cinders.  But, I do know the script.  Paul and I talked about it from time to time and I can assure you that the flame of love for the boy soldier burned as fiercely in her heart on the day that she died as it did on the day they were married.

However, her life went on and she raised her two little boys.  She turned to mum and dad for assistance and she received it abundantly.  Dad, or Pop as he had then become, became the boys' surrogate father.  Pete developed as the strong, silent type and Jase a strong, emotional boy.

When dad died of cancer, Pete became quieter and Jase got angry.  However, Paul continued to shower them with love and encouragement and today it is an honour for me to call them my nephews and my friends. Peter has two degrees and is poised for a great future in the accounting profession and Jason has a good job in the environment that he loves.  With his zest for life and his selling ability, I have no doubt that he will make it to the top.  Boys, I know your mum was just so proud of you and you are a credit to her.

The major part of Paul's working career covered a 20 year span with Alliance Acceptance, Mercantile Credits and Esanda.  Many of her colleagues are here today.   They describe her as extremely caring towards others, always willing to assist, a great shoulder to cry on and a wonderful friend.  They also made mention that they considered her to be a beautiful lady whose infectious, often loud laugh and her wonderful smile will be truly missed.

Paul died on Saturday night.  It was a very peaceful death, surrounded by all those of her family who could make it.  Over the last couple of years she spoke to me, as I know she spoke to some of you, about the coming of the moment of death.  She was confident of her ability to handle it but still a little scared of what lay ahead.  Her most fervent wish was that dad would be there to greet her and show her the way.  She also thought that it would be great if the rest of the gang was there too.  She was really looking forward to catching up with her gran and pop, her aunty Joan and uncle Mick and aunty Pi.

When we spoke about it, I had no doubt that they would all be there for her.  However there were times during Friday night and Saturday that I started doubting.  Not once during the whole of her sickness did I ever her complain.  Not once was there a “Why me!" or anything like it.  However, I reckon that the good Lord wanted to be sure before the end so he threw everything at her for about twenty-four hours, but she didn't crack.  When he realised that she wouldn't, he left her in peace.  Her last comprehensible words after the pain was gone were, "Give me a kiss!"

Paul started drifting in and out of consciousness and, although the medical people will probably have a logical answer for it they will never convince me that dad and the family who have gone before weren't all there.  The smiles that she smiled and the "Hi's!" and "Gooday's!" that she uttered during that time of semi consciousness were witness to their presence.

Before she became too sick, Paul and I spoke on a few occasions about the party we would have when she went.  We also talked about the big reunion she would have.   We wondered if they might be at the same venue - her home.  Again, there are probably plenty of logical reasons for it but, about an hour after she died, the family was sitting in Paul's lounge room, drinks in hand, front door open, reminiscing about her life.  Suddenly the sensor light that is activated when anyone walks up the front steps came on.  I could see the steps and Jase went to the door, but there was not a soul, or should I say, body, there.  Again it will be very hard for me to be convinced that it wasn't Paul and the gang arriving for the party.

Before I finish there are a few thank you’s that I know Paul would like me to say.  On behalf of the family, but particularly on Paul's behalf, I want to say thank you to all of those people who made her last twelve months the proof that loving care is the answer - not euthanasia.

To:
  • Fr. Peter and the other wonderful people of St Bernards who provided support, sustenance and communion to Paul and mum when it was most needed,
  • Colleen and her associates from Community Care for looking after the house when Paul couldn't handle it,
  • the staffs at the Radium Institute and the Royal Women’s Hospital who loved her, cared for her and eased her pain, 
  • the ladies of St Lukes Nursing Service who turned up every day to ensure that she had her medication, that she was clean and that her main support, mum, remained as strong as she could, 
  • Michael Boulton and his colleagues from Mt Olivet who ministered to her and mum's physical, mental and spiritual needs and who provided Paul with a place that, towards the end of her life, she unashamedly called home, and 
  • all the other dear friends who supported her,
what can I say to you all but thank you, thank you, thank you.

There are another two people who are very special that I would like to mention.
  • Sr. Maureen, a very, very special friend of Pauline, mum and the boys.
I asked the family how I should say thanks to Maureen.  I couldn't find the words and neither could they.

Sr. Maureen is the Catholic Chaplain at the Royal Women’s Hospital where she first came into contact with Paul.  On Saturday, her day off at Royal Women’s, she came to Mt. Olivet to spend the whole day with Paul and the family, ministering to our respective needs.  She was there when any of us showed signs of stress.  She counselled us and generally saw us through the moment.  Then, during the mid afternoon when Paul was beginning to show signs of distress because of our stress, she shepherded us outside the room and settled us down with tea and kind words.

After we had settled and the beautiful Mt. Olivet staff had settled Paul, we drifted back into Paul's room, one by one.  Everyone just sat there, engrossed in his or her own thoughts, while Paul went deeper and deeper into sleep.

Instead of a distressed death, Maureen, by her actions and understanding of the situation, gave Paul the opportunity of a dignified birth into eternal life.

It was only alter Paul had died and Maureen had consoled the family that she found a dark corner, and cried.

Maureen, we Richardson brothers don't have a sister any more.  We know that no one could ever take Paul's place.  However, such is our feeling that we have decided to make you our surrogate Sister Maureen.
  • The last of the special pair of people is, of course, our Mum.
How could we, that is the rest of the family, or Paul, ever express our feelings to you for all that you have done for Paul over the last fifty, bur more particularly, three years.  When she needed a mother, you were there.  When she needed a friend, you were there.  When she needed someone to pray with, you were there.  And in the lonely nights of fear when no one else was there, you were.

These past three years have been the hardest of your life but you have withstood, not without many battle scars, all the trials that have come your way.

You don't want thanks because you were only doing what you believed was your duty - being Mum.  So, what the family has done is to arrange for Paul’s ashes to be laid to rest in the Columbarium just outside the side door of this church.  The family has also reserved the Niche immediately below Paul’s and are arranging to have Dad brought over from Albany Creek to keep her company.  Now, each Sunday when you come to Mass, you and your Friends will be able to pop around and say "Gooday" to them both.

Thanks Mum.

To conclude, I would like to quote Paul's own words that she wrote about fifteen months ago, not long after she found out that the cancer had come back.  I had just found out and I asked her to come down to Sydney to hold my hand. She did, but at one o'clock in the afternoon of the 16th August 1995, she was sitting alone at Circular Quay overlooking the water and the Opera House. In her contemplation of life she wrote, and part of what she wrote was:

"In the background I can hear behind me the trains rattling into the railway station. Everything seems normal as it has been for years.  Behind the railway station is the Sydney Rocks.  This area has been bustling with people since the first settlers.  This is the birthplace of Australia as we know it.  It never stops when a child is born and there is no grieving when someone dies.  It just "is", and that is the way it should be. Between birth and death is what makes our existence relative to our family, our friends, acquaintances, the schools we attend, the street where we live, the people we work with and so the heartbeat of our world. So we are here not for self gratification but to make our world better. The reason I have decided to write this down is for me to know whether I have done the best I could."

I will leave it to you to - in your hearts - answer that for her.  Be assured that she will hear you.



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