Page 4 - Gwen Landsberry - Eulogies

My Beautiful Nana

by Charlotte Kilminster
(granddaughter)

There are so many things I will miss about you….

I will miss your abundant worldly wisdom in all the little sayings you used
to have. One of my favourites, and something I often say to my boys is
“It wouldn’t do if we were all the same” – these are very wise words.
I will miss that funny little dance you use to do. I will miss the way your
house smelled when I walked in the front door – a cross between
hairspray and Imari perfume. I will miss your sausage rolls and freshly
baked Anzac cookies that always filled the ‘gumnut cookie jar’ on the
kitchen bench.
I was so incredibly fortunate to have had you as my Nana and to be the
last of 5 generations of women in the family to have lived at 42 Laurel
Street.

I believe people live on through the memories of those left behind, and
I have so many wonderful memories of you dear Nana.
I remember when I was younger, standing on your dining table so you
could hem my school uniforms each year, and the countless hours we
spent together with you teaching me how to sew. This is what sparked
my lifelong love of sewing and creating.

I remember you taking my cousins and me to the yearly performance of
Disney on Ice, and the little goody bags you’d pack with poppas, chips
and the coveted Furry Friends chocolates.

I remember playing hide-and-seek with my cousins and hiding in the
walk-in pantry – you would never give us up to the person seeking. You
never played favourites, but made each one of us feel so special and
loved.
I remember the house being filled with people, all talking over each
other, laughing, singing, chatting away. I remember the many Christmas,
Easter and birthday gatherings; with all my cousins, aunts and uncles,
extended family and the obligatory ring-ins, perhaps gathered from one
of your many holidays in Australia and around the world.
And I still have no idea how you would manage to feed 20 people with
an hour’s notice!

Your hospitality was an incredible asset of yours, your door was always
open, and when it was time to go home you would stand on your front
porch picking the brown leaves from the flower boxes of pink
geraniums. You would never go inside until you had waved goodbye to
us, I know so many others will have that memory so clearly of you too.