Frank Lawless
October 11, 1929– September 3, 2013
The death notices can be viewed here:
http://tributes.heraldsun.com.au/notice/2070181/view
The photo presentation by Emma Gunn can be viewed here:
http://prezi.com/8w_ml_j8jthz/?utm_campaign=share&utm_medium=copy&rc=ex0share
LAWLESS Francis Michael (Frank) of "Lawless Country” Oct. 11, 1929 - Sept. 3, 2013, aged 83 and 11 months passed away peacefully at home with his family. Respected, loved and admired, by all who knew him. Loving son of James (dec. ) and Anne (Browne) Lawless (dec. ). Brother of Tom (dec. ), Jim (dec. ), Jack (dec. ) and Tony. Loving husband to Mary (Milross) Lawless for 53 Years. Much Loved and loving father, father-in-law and grand father and great grandfather (to be) to
Marie and Geoff, Claire & Nathan, Sarah, Laura (dec. ) and Kate (dec. ), Melissa, Catherine and Emma Gunn;
Helen and Paul, Amy, Jessica & Steve, Emily, Timothy, Callum, Hannah, Megan (dec. ) and Rebecca Bourke;
Cathy Lawless and John, Joshua, Jack and Elena Linton;
Maureen and Mark, Thomas, Elyse, Lachlan, Nicholas and Sienna McDonald;
Michael and Vikki, Molly, Matthew and Elizabeth Lawless,
Brian and Keira , Riley, Skyla, Jye and Eden Lawless;
Lynette Lawless and Kirk, Imagine, Khandi, Kaesura, Yarra Jobsz.
Frank died quietly on Tuesday morning. I was up there Wednesday and helped a little with the booklet, discreetly urging brevity out of respect for sore bums on hard seats. Here is a short report of the celebration on Friday afternoon.
It was amazing. At the end, their 31 grandchildren stood on the altar steps facing the fine polished box in which he lay, their parents and cousins filling the front rows of the large church, packed in spite of thinning out among the ranks of our generation. Such is the passing, the passover.
We'd been there 2 hours already. I opened the batting (text below). Then followed Helen and Maureen and Brian, with histories and anecdotes and memories of the generous and the quirky ways he loved his childen and taught them how to love; there seemed no end of it. And then a ten minute power-point of photos of smiling family in all manner of settings with gentle music backing, put together by Emma. We got back to liturgical readings as the clock showed 2.55, but unconcerned the wonderful parish priest took another 15 minutes to give his account of this extraordinary man, outstanding for his kindness, his love and welcome, his open heart and open door, his quirky humour, his never saying no...
I've never before seen a family-community liturgy that was a full-on celebration of life, of this life, our life. The readings (all positive) and the eucharistic prayer and communion, formed the short familiar framework for a family to celebrate in the community their family life.
The key for me was that this unlettered man (left school at 14, grade 8) who suffered all his life the impediment of not having ways to express the wealth of thoughts and feelings bursting out of his romantic heart and mind – this man, it turned out, was a great teacher. Time and again they said: You taught us... to love, to hope, to try, to aim high, to do our very best, to never give up...
There was propped up against the end of the coffin an old board on which one of them had blow-torched a slogan in large letters: FRANK BUT FRIENDLY. And on the lid they placed their iconic plastic model hereford bull!
Frank Lawless
October 11, 1929– September 3, 2013
Hullo, and welcome. I am Tony, Frank's young brother.
This morning I read a poem that I looked up in the 7th Grade Victorian Reader – that little compendium of good writing, history and poetry that was the backbone of education in Frank's time.
The poem was Grey's Elegy:
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Through recent years Frank has done a lot of remembering. In his little corner of the world he was the last of a generation, one of the very few still alive who have seen a man plough a single furrow with a single horse.
A few weeks ago he was thinking of the people we grew up with, Hazelwood as it was when we were kids on the farm: the neighbours on their farms, the kids we went to school with - and he said to me: You know, Tony, of all those people you and I are the only ones left.
Frank Lawless did nothing great or noteworthy while he was alive. He was not a public figure, a leader in the civic community, in the sporting world, in the academic field.
What he did was family, and farming. What he loved was family and farming.
Mary rang me the morning Frank died, and we shared our tears and tried to find some thing to say that would give some comfort, and I said: You’d be so lonely! And Mary replied through her tears: Yes, Tony, 53 years is a long time. We’ve done everything together through all that time.
Everything I say from here on must be seen to include Mary. Frank & Mary - it’s like a code, a key to something lively, exciting, exuberant, warm and always welcoming.
All they did was family and farming, which is not to say that’s all they gave. More than forty years of service in the Knights of the Southern Cross, for example, amongst so many other things. Frank's involvement came with something only he could give, his kind heart, his humble, humble self. His love: it was almost uncontrollable in his mind, in his emotions; you could hear it in his voice.
What they did was farming, and family: seven, expanding in nature’s way to 41, and counting. How could anyone put that story into words. I leave you, who know even some of that mob, to your own thoughts of wonder, and joy. And being grateful.
There’s always been a certain simplicity about Frank & Mary, a simplicity that is cover for a thorough-going engagement with life. It must be about 20 years since they told us they had built a rotary milking shed. Sue and I were stunned, and Frank knew why. I’m nearly 70, he said, and I’ve got more debt than I’ve ever had! It was not for himself of course, but for his family: whether a wise thing or not, I don't know, but I do know it takes a special kind of courage to plunge in that deep when you should be in retirement.
But then, in their way of thinking, if you’ve got something more to give - you just give it. That’s all. The giving is what is good, whatever the risk, whatever the outcome.
Our world has changed, and the way we express our trust in the God-who-is-our-life has changed and diversified enormously. Frank & Mary have kept faithful to the old ways of Sunday Mass and family rosary and grace before their meals, hands joined, heads bowed, wondering, grateful for the blessings they receive.
That, and their whole lives, are a sign for anyone to read: Be kind. Be true. Be grateful. Be generous. Hold back nothing in doing what you do. Don’t waste too much energy on analysing, criticising, moralising. Put it into trusting, and hoping, and loving.
You have taught me much, my brother, and cared for me since I was a little bloke. I thank you, and I’m honoured to join your family and friends in thanking God for you.
For now, go in peace, Frank, and get some rest.