Walking into 35 Canget St Wingham was like walking through a time warp.The place simply never changed that much...but for such a simple house,there was so much more going on. I know I'm not alone when I say I have fond memories of chooks,vegie gardens,fresh beans on the sink and the smell of home cooking.Crochetting and knitting devices,vivid psychedelic yellow wallpaper,a pink cast iron bath that, when you were a kid,seemed to be the size of a swimming pool. A gorgeous garden full of roses and a highly sprung letterbox. Apart from all these iconic references,there was something else. Something wonderful and very special. There were always good times. Precious moments of laughter,happiness and love. There was a warmth in that house that hit you the minute you walked through the front door. Despite attempts by Jeanie and Dianne in later years to "tidy the place up a bit" the house,like Grandma,remained untouched and in absolute original condition.(We'd often share a joke about them messing with her turf). I was fortunate enough to live with her for a few months in the mid 90s and on my departure,she took a bucket and filled it,chocka block,with all the roses out of her garden. On the trip back,the carriage of the XPT was filled with the smell of Winghams finest and I suspect it's never smelt as good since. I never really heard Grandma raise her voice or say a bad word against anyone. Right to the end she was thinking and asking about other people and thankful to those who were nursing her. Testament to Eileens character were the scores of people,near and far,who held her in the highest regard. She was surrounded by loyal,beautiful and loving neighbours,friends and family. We all just totally adored her. She was never going to be left out of a party,wedding or get together. She recently took great delight in attending her Grandsons late night backyard movie screening of his West Australian adventures where she took front row position and was there till stumps. Shewas the true matriach of the family and it is a real melancholy experience just being here without her .She was the one constant in our lives and know how much she will be missed. But we should feel truly blessed that we all had her for so long and glad that our hearts will feel that warmth when we think of her...wherever we are. Thank-you Grandma for what you have left behind...for what you have left within us....... Arran

We have gained and cherished so much for so long.Knowing my Grandma,I know the world has been a little brighter...a little which means a lot. But my Grandmas death is not a loss but an end. I beleive it is not a case of aquisition and loss but a case of beginning and end. Stories,loves,battles,teats,roads....life.. all have a beginning and an end...they are ended ,not lost, they have influence, they are felt by many, they become part of our lives and part of our future, they are remembered. I remember frogs piss in the water tank, I too remember a well sprung letterbox that taught me the laws of physics.I spring it so hard it hits the footpath...it springs back so hard it smacks me in the head. I remember the magic of growing up with fireplaces in the loungeroom, finding diamond rings under the stairs and secret sections of strawberries in the vegie patch where even the snail poo was edible. I remember the amazement of chooks doing hot laps of the backyard...minus their heads. And later in life,in my 20s my friends living in London were getting 'grandma slippers' in the mail,custom made. I remember rocking up with convoys of friends on their way up the coast and them sharing the magic as we searched for easter eggs amongst the rhubarb and tomatoes,sighning the guest book on the fridge as we left with the warmth in our hearts. My Grandma has left but the warmth for all of us will remain.......Murray