Gillian Louise Bone (18 Mar 1964 - 29 Apr 2015)

In everlasting memory of our beloved Gillian who was taken from us too early on 29th April 2015 aged just 51.

In Celebration of my Life
Dear Friends and family, here are my last wishes to ensure that my life has not been without good cause, and to wish you are all able to celebrate together having known me, loved me and cursed me for leaving you all so soon.

This wretched disease would just not let go, and after many years of my winning battles, it has finally won the day.

Wear bright colours at the celebration – no sombre colours or faces! Do not linger with tears and sorrow, but continue to remember me in words and music. I hope you all appreciate the eclectic mix of music I have chosen to send you all home with ringing in your ears.

Farewell My Friends
Author: Rabindranath Tagore

Farewell My Friends
It was beautiful
As long as it lasted
The journey of my life.
I have no regrets
Whatsoever said
The pain I’ll leave behind.
Those dear hearts
Who love and care...
And the strings pulling
At the heart and soul...
The strong arms
That held me up
When my own strength
Let me down.
At the turning of my life
I came across
Good friends,
Friends who stood by me
Even when time raced me by.
Farewell, farewell My friends
I smile and
Bid you goodbye.
No, shed no tears
For I need them not
All I need is your smile.
If you feel sad
Do think of me
For that’s what I’ll like
When you live in the hearts
Of those you love
Remember then
You never die.

Next time that you hear my musical choices – please remember me and smile. I will always love you all, and I will be waiting for you in this better, pain-free world in which I now reside.

Order of Service

Eulogy for Gillian

It is sometimes said that silence is golden.

Gillian would have laughed - loudly - and told us - at great length - how absurd that notion is. With Gillian, silence wasn't really an option.

Which is good, because the silence that has fallen since her passing has been the most dreadful sound imaginable.

There'll always be the wish for another word, another laugh. But Gillian's wish for today was not sad reflection, but rather for celebration.

From the day Gillian was born (knowing her legendary lateness, probably way overdue) to Eileen and Norman, her persona was there for all to see:
- always loving, compassionate, thoughtful and giving;
- adventurous, curious, impatient, persistent, talkative;
- and an astonishing maker and keeper of friends.

Cut very much from the same cloth as Eileen, her beloved mum, Gillian always made an impact - a laughing, talking force of nature that swept you into a brighter and sunnier world.

The sun shone on Gillian's childhood. She spoke often of the love, the laughter, the cultural trips, the holidays and the time spent living in Egypt.

By the time the Bone family relocated to Repton, Gillian had become the worldly extrovert that we all knew and loved. An exotic character that stood out at college. A glamorous, experienced and opinionated whirling dervish so utterly different from the other, introverted, parochial teenagers.

So different and yet, typically, so open. It was at college that Gillian befriended Rachael and Paul, forming a trio that remained inseparable to the end.

Gillian didn't have interests or hobbies. She had passions. Family, friends, homemaking, cooking, baking, travelling, music, dancing, shopping. Whatever she did, she was wholeheartedly passionate.

And Gillian shared those passions.

She talked vividly about Eileen, Norman & Linda, her aunt Dannia and uncle Len, her brother Steven, sister-in-law Rochelle, and her nieces and nephews - Isabella, JJ, Oliver and Amelia, who she so doted on.

The same with dear friends from across the decades and from across the world, some of them here today: Claire, Chris, Pat, Adam, Paul and Angie.

Wherever she was - not just in Hong Kong, but also on Crete and elsewhere - Gillian quickly made new, lifelong friends.

She would also immerse herself wholly in the place, its people, its language, its history, its culture.
So much so, that she became like a daughter to her close friend Karmen Wong's family in Hong Kong and also to Marika, an elderly neighbour on Crete.

So many friendships can only endure where there is at least one very special person in the relationship. And that was Gillian. One only has to look at the moving tributes and memories posted on Gillian’s online memorial page to see that.

If you haven't already done so, please honour Gillian by reading it and contributing to it.

Gillian shared her beautiful homes. Not just with friends and family, but also their partners and friends. The way Gillian welcomed Dagi, my partner, and made her feel so at home was nothing short than incredible.

Her parties and dinners were legendary - feasts for all the senses. Everyone was catered for, everyone was attended to. Gillian was the perfect hostess (provided you remembered to bring a gift!)

Extravagant cakes would be made for all occasions, even for weddings at times when Gillian was gravely ill. But, even then, only perfection would do.

Because Gillian was also a perfectionist. When Eileen was so unwell, Gillian went to buy a Mother's Day card, accompanied by Paul & Rachael.

After an hour of traipsing from shop to shop, scouring dozens of cards and scrutinising each and every line, Paul snapped, “Gillian! Just pick a card!”

Gillian replied, “This may be the last card I ever get my mother and it has to be perfect. Just perfect.”

Two hours later, having revisited said shops, she found the perfect card. It turned out to be Gillian's last Mother's Day card to Eileen. But it was perfect.

Eileen's death, also from cancer, took the sunshine out of Gillian's life for some time. Losing a parent is traumatic enough, but to also lose your best friend, your anchor, during an already turbulent time in life - clouded her skies for many years.

Ultimately though, it was Eileen's passing that moulded the second half of Gillian's life and led her to Hong Kong and beyond.

Hong Kong became Gillian's home and her centre for the rest of her life, barring a few years in Dublin, and it's in Hong Kong that an even bigger celebration will soon take place and even more stories will be recounted.

Whilst in Hong Kong, Gillian found her vocation: teaching English. And why not? She got to meet new people, gain further insights into their culture, share her knowledge - and talk even more.

Gillian could be sometimes be stubborn.

Once in Hong Kong, she and I were disagreeing about how to get from A to B.
Standing next to a street sign, I said, “We're on Ferry Street. We can take a taxi south from here.”
“This isn't Ferry Street!” came Gillian's tart reply.
“What does this sign say then?” I asked in exasperation.
Gillian, without once looking at either me or the sign, announced, “The road sign is wrong!”

I hailed a taxi anyway, and how we cried with laughter over lunch at the absurdity of that conversation.

But it was that stubbornness that ensured Gillian (and Mark) packed so much into the 7 years since her first diagnosis with cancer.
For example: white water rafting, visiting the Taj Mahal, flying over the Angkor Wat temples in Cambodia and - most incredibly - climbing the 4000m Mount Kinabalu in Malaysia (in aid of Cancer Research of course.)

She might not have got to see the Northern Lights or to swim with dolphins, but Gillian packed more into those 7 years than many of us could hope to in a lifetime.

Gillian had such a beautiful soul, and her heart never, ever stopped giving. She was always there, ready to help anyone in need.

Gillian gave of herself - endlessly and totally. She never forgot birthdays or other celebrations. Cards and presents would be meticulously planned and sent, and calls would be made without fail.

She organised Norman's 80th birthday celebrations from Hong Kong, and her own 50th last year on Crete - where Gillian organised accommodation, transport, a whole itinerary, even water for everyone. That week will be forever cherished by those of us lucky to have been there.

Even in the last few months of her life, Gillian always found the time and energy to offer advice to my own father as he also battles cancer.

There were, of course, some bad choices and tough times in Gillian's life. Her generosity, love and trust were not always reciprocated.

But the blame there lies solely with those who, for whatever reason, didn't reciprocate.

Gillian still believed in love though - and love found her. And Gillian's love was Mark, her partner of the past thirteen years.

Make no mistake - Mark was Gillian's greatest, deepest and truest love. Her constant, her rough diamond, her playmate, her lover and, ultimately, her carer.

Mark helped Gillian fulfil so many dreams and wishes.

Gillian never got to complete the renovation of the house on Crete that she and Mark bought 10 years ago, but Mark will also fulfil that final dream.

Mark has also ensured that this celebration of Gillian's life has been everything she wanted and more.

Mark has been a colossus. His love and support for Gillian exemplary, unwavering and humbling.

On all our behalves but especially of course on behalf of Gillian: thank you, Mark. We salute you.

To close:

Even as we mourn Gillian, there's comfort and celebration in knowing that, with her usual determination and fortitude, she was exactly where she wanted to be at the end - surrounded by love, back home, with Mark, with her dad - and near her mum.

On that thought, I've adapted “Gone from my Sight” by Henry van Dyke:

We're all on an island beach in Hong Kong.

A junk catches a breeze in her sails and heads out to sea.

The boat is beautiful and strong, yet oh-so-fragile, and we stand and watch until she becomes just a speck upon the horizon.

Then we think to ourselves, “She’s gone. She’s gone.”

But gone where? From our sight, that is all. Her diminished size is in us, not in her.

So, just as we think, “She’s gone,” there are other eyes watching her approach.
Among them, Eileen, joyously exclaiming, “She’s coming!”

Hong Kong Celebration of Life