16 September 2013, Brighton, Melbourne, Australia

Thank you all for coming today to celebrate the life of my mother. Today is a very difficult day but we must fill it with happy memories and love for a wonderful woman, my mother, Margaret.

My Mum was graceful, eloquent, intelligent, selfless, kind, caring and quick-witted. On 20 June 2013, Mum wrote down and sent to us, her sons, her wishes, which commenced with:

“I am not afraid for myself. I actually feel strangely calm about it all. I’m just worried about Dad.”

Worried about Dad. Worried about everyone she loved, rather than herself. That was Mum.

When her sister Rosalyn was ill, Mum thought not of her own health challenges but of the need to ensure Rosalyn was surrounded with love. When her brother Warren was ill, Mum became the family glue to bring us all together and ensure Warren too was surrounded with love. When her mother was ill, Mum became the family guardian to take the brunt of Gran’s illness and ensure that Gran passed with dignity and love. Recently, when I accompanied Mum to her medical appointments and certain treatments were suggested, Mum was very clear that it was not an option if there was a possibility of them reducing her capacity to care for Dad. Such was Mum’s devotion to Dad and such was their bond. On 17 August, Dad passed away holding Mum’s hand. When that happened, there is no question that a light went out inside Mum. Thanks to Bethlehem Hospital, both of these beautiful lives ended with an abundance of love and dignity.

But our family is devastated by the recent passing of Margaret and Robert. We take some solace in the precious moments Mum and Dad enjoyed over the past year.

Kate and I getting married
Their first grandson Tom arriving and the mutual adoration that quickly developed
The last few Sunday lunches we enjoyed together at their home with the immediate and extended family
Calista and Matt’s relationship developing into their recent marriage

Being a mother of four rambunctious boys – with us fighting on the back seat between games of “spotto on the road signs” - Mum had her work cut out and, as a highly-skilled educator, it is little wonder that she adopted a rather authoritarian, teacher-like approach to our home environment. That had varying success as we each rebelled at various junctures but we all understood that her iron rule came from a place of love and pragmatism. When we spent six months in 1979 travelling as a family together around England, Scotland and the European continent, Mum regularly received thanks and congratulations from other tourists about the excellent behaviour of her four boys; such tourists being blissfully unaware of the fact that we were all simply petrified of transgressing the daily maternal regulations.

Back then, the softness in Mum was evident in her enjoyment of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Rogers & Hammerstein musicals – the key songs from which she would regularly recite reasonably accurately on her treasured piano organ - and also evident in her adoption of as many feline friends as possible to offset the testosterone overload in our house.

More recently, Mum has become such a great friend to us boys. Mum was an avid social media participant, with record time responses with likes and comments to even our most trifling Facebook posts. Mum was also highly proficient at quick-fire family SMS news updates, efficiently and officially announcing the details of birthday dinners, Christmas gatherings and our first Sunday of the month family dinners. It is quite shocking that only around 5 months ago we had our final family dinner in St Kilda, which included much pizza and red wine, the gargling of 4 month-old Tom and the roundtable confirmation of our respective fine health. Unbelievably, the very next day, Mum commenced a battery of x-rays and scans to determine the ominous cause of her side pain. Only a week or so later, Dad began to confront his own challenges. Just unbelievable.

After summarily dispensing with breast cancer in 2002, I guess to some extent we took for granted that Mum would be with us for many years to come, so it is heart-wrenching that our dear friend and the family glue has passed. But I am confident that her efforts will mean the family gathered here today will continue to come together for many years to come and pass this McGregor and Fry family stickiness through to future generations.

Mum’s final wishes extended to her two new daughters, Kate and Calista, receiving some of her most treasured pieces of jewellery. I have them here and Matt and I want to give them to you two beautiful daughters-in-law of Mum.

Finally, Mum didn’t like the idea of people being glum about her passing. Mum wanted this day to be graceful like her and for us to be inspired by her memory. Here is a message to us that I think she would have agreed with.

Do not stand at my grave and weep;

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

Tim's older brother Rohan 'Macca' McGregor followed with a 'Song of Memory'

The Song of Memory

When someone we love

passes on beyond life

in the world that we know

and is gone,

A beautiful sense of their presence,

like music remembered by heart,

lingers on…

When someone we love

is no longer with us

but their presence sometimes we can feel,

Our memories can be

Like a song in the heart

With the power to comfort and heal

· Mum was my best friend

· Mum was someone I loved

· Mum taught me how to grow as an eldest son

· Mum was there when we needed help

· My Mum and Dad were the best parents a son could have

· Mum loved her four boys

· Mum taught me what life is all about so I would cope in the real world

· Mum showed me how to treat people with respect and how to treat people properly

Tim McGregor's eulogy for his father, Robert McGregor, is also on Speakola.

23 August 2013, Brighton, Melbourne, Australia

Tom was worried about being asleep during the ceremony and so wanted me to pass on a special message to Dad, or Dr Pop as he was known to Tom. We sat down to write a letter and this is what Tom said [play Iphone raspberry noises]. I translated all that as follows:

Dear Dr Pop

I’ve only known you for about 8 ½ months, but I think I’ve figured out some important things about you that will help me in the future.

First, you liked Jags a lot. Dad had a Jag because he wanted to impress you. I liked being driven around in that car. Now we have an Audi because Mum wanted a sensible, family car. I don’t think Germans are sensible. I think Jags are sensible…and cool. I will demand to be driven to school in a Jag and I will also drive one when I am older. I’ll wear Ray Bans like you too because they are also sensible…and cool.

Secondly, you really liked Essendon. I have been conflicted. Mum likes Buddy Franklin so I have a lot of Hawthorn stuff. Then Mum found out that Dad started barracking for Hawthorn because his Grandad did, so Mum decided I should barrack for Essendon because you did. Dad got a big shock when he took me to visit you in hospital and unwrapped my blankets to find me dressed in an Essendon jumper. Oh, how we laughed. Since then, Dad keeps randomly saying things like “peptides”, “amino acids”, “denial” and “Demetriou” whenever I wear my jumper. I wish you were around to explain what that means. Essendon definitely seem very fit.

Thirdly, you liked Victoria and insisted that it is the greatest country on earth. I now understand that there are too many New South Wales players in the Australian cricket team, that it is really Victorian rather than Australian Rules Football and that all the best wines are from Rutherglen, not the Barossa.

Fourthly, you had a beautiful baritone singing voice and were quite an actor with the Peninsula Light Operatic Society. Dad has been singing and playing some guitar tunes to me recently which, frankly, I humour him into thinking he’s doing a good job. I also hear Dad tried to be an actor like you but wound up on Neighbours. Look, in deference to you, I will encourage Dad to keep at it, even if it is tough to watch.

Fifthly, you really loved Granny Mac a lot. Even when you were sleeping last Saturday, I could see you were holding her hand. I hope Mum and Dad always hold hands like that too.

Sixthly, you were amazing at English and helped dumb kids and dumb teachers get really smart. I already know that Mum is bad at English but, so far, she can read me books. Dad is good at English but probably overplays his hand in dinner conversations and seems a bit of a try hard. I think you may have come in handy for when I am at school. If I am running into difficulties on that front, I will say the following to Mum and Dad: “Gee, imagine if Dr Pop was here and how much better my grades would be. What’s wrong with you two?”.

Finally, you were a really good Dad to Macca, Andy, Dad & Matty and a great Grandad to me. If I am running into difficulties with Dad, I will say the following to him “Gee, are you sure that’s what Dr Pop would have wanted”? Hopefully this will help him to be as good a Dad as you were.

Yours sincerely

Tom Robert Dodger McGregor

The McGregor boys also lost their mother to cancer just weeks later. Tim and Rohan McGregor's eulogy for Margaret McGregor is also on Speakola.