Eulogy
My mother, Frances was a very passionate person. She was passionate about her work, her research, her friends and family. Frances never entered into anything half-way.

Frances was also a very unique and memorable person. She has a special place in our hearts, and will not be easily forgotten.

Frances was extremely kind and generous, often with George's money. She would go to great lengths to find the perfect gift, or even make the lives of others just a little more comfortable. She did this with no expectation of reward for herself.

It was not unknown for Frances to become friends with people she had only just met, and to provide them with support, advice, and anything she thought was required to give them happiness.

As a mother, Frances was passionate about ensuring that I had the best education and resources available to me. While this was sometimes frustrating when I would rather be playing games, dating girls, or drinking beer; Frances' encouragement and involvement is in many ways responsible for my continuing success as an adult.

However, my mother's passion for ensuring I had a good education didn't stop with me, but also extended to my friends. There have been many times when my friends had called and Frances had answered the phone. She would go to great lengths asking them about their assignments, their grades, exam timetables, lecturers, and other points of academic interest.

In fact, Frances would spend so long talking to my friends that she would then ask them to hang-up and then call back, so she could plausibly deny she had spent the last half-hour questioning them; instead she would pretend she allowed the call to go straight through to me.

My mother had another passion, and that was for humour. For as long as I can remember, Frances had a knack of creating mischief, sometimes for the amusement of others, but also for her own enjoyment.

One such time was when I was a boy. Along with my cousin, Blake, we had constructed a cubby-house from bricks, mud, and a large sheet of clear plastic. Being a mild evening, Blake and I insisted on sleeping in the cramped confines of our newly constructed abode.

We stayed up late scaring each other with horror stories, particularly ones of axe murderers climbing the fence to find us as we slept. Little did we know that Frances also had her own plans on how to scare us.

Late that night, my mother took a handful of dry macaroni, leaned out of a window, and tossed the pasta onto the roof of our cubby house. Being terrified that it was the axe-murderer, I spent the rest of the night awake, but too frightened to talk, or even move.

Later, in my teenage years, I demanded my independence, as youths of that age are apt to do. I was granted the use of the detached bungalow, giving me not only a room away from the house, but also my own front door and kitchen.

Of course, being independent had its own responsibilities. Whenever I forgot to do the washing, Frances would do it for me. Whenever she cooked dinner, she'd bring some down for me. And of course, whenever she even suspected I may have friends over, she would come down with large plates of food and hot drinks. Often this was so she could ask them how they were going with their exams, or ensure they weren't stopping me from finishing my assignments.

Everyone here has had Frances touch their lives in some way. On this day of reflection, I ask you this: Do not feel regret that Frances has gone, but instead feel joy that she has been part of your life. Do not feel sadness, but think instead of the happy memories she has left us. Do not feel remorse, but instead rejoice that Frances had a fulfilling life, and in the time before she passed away she was filled with hope, happiness and love.