She was born August 19, 1919 at Nanima Mission in Wellington NSW: the first born in a family of 13 children and the last to leave her family, and now gone to another place at the age of almost 95 years.

Her family was from Wellington and Cowra and their heritage predominantly Wiradjuri and Irish descendants.

Edna's mother was born on the Erambie Mission and her father, also with Wiradjuri heritage, ran a boxing tent, sometimes working with the Sharman boxing tent. He was a heavyweight boxer, known as the "Brown Bomber."

Mum's grandfather, John Henry Alfred Coe, was a Wiradjuri man from Cowra and worked as a driver from Forbes. Her grandfather was called up during the war years to fight for Australia.

He and his fellow recruits fell in northern France on March 26, 1916.

This was while destroying German machine gun nests with rifles, bayonets and grenades.

Captain Cherry, who fell with them, received a V.C for this action.

My own thoughts are that they should all have been honored with an award for what must have been a hellish experience.

While visiting France I went to Langicourt and I found a small war cemetery with these brave men placed side by side.

All were Cowra men, except the Captain, who I believe was Tasmanian.

It is known that Captain Cherry passed on a letter from a wounded German officer to send to his wife.

All soldiers carried letters with them when they went into battle.

Now I wish to give my thanks to all who helped me with my mum Edna: the doctors, nurses and carers who helped me with mum's care over these last few years, plus those, in passing, who have a helping hand.

I received welcome home care to assist mum: help her out of bed, down our stairs and with dressing and showering, whilst I prepared her breakfast.

The bus drivers and assistants who drove mum from Robertson to day care in Bowral and also Moss Vale were always cheery.

When we took mum on outings she would be armed with her walking stick and eventually, when in her nursing home, a walking frame and wheelchair.

To begin with, the walking stick was fiercely resisted.

One time we rang the ambulance to ask for help to get her out of the bath (Edna loved her bath).

Luckily before they arrived we came up with the solution of emptying the bath and adding bean bags and cushions to help.

The next day, when speaking to the ambulance men, who were enjoying a coffee in town, they said that they were grateful that this problem was solved without them!

Each outing would be an adventure. Often with coffee and cake at Gus' "Mezza Bar" where she was always made to feel welcome, but getting Edna in and out of vehicles and shops with steps was always a challenge, and several times kind passersby would come to our aid.

The last offer was from a worker who appeared by my side offering much needed help; "you take that arm and I'll take this arm? Don't break her arm!" I asked and then she was safely in the car and we were off back to Warrigal - this was our last attempt at outings.

We know she enjoyed outings, especially when she was living full-time at Warrigal Care.

Recently I witnessed a lady fall and drop her groceries in the middle of Bong Bong street, and before I could get out of my car to help her, about three cars had already stopped and helped her back on her feet again. Good on them!

Brave people, the infirm and the elderly, armed with walking sticks, walking frames, wheelchairs, etc, to get out and take the challenge to keep their independence.

Most local people watch and try to help if needed, and I hope most car drivers, when approaching these crossings, are understanding.

Time and patience is necessary.

At Warrigal Care, when my mum left us all, I asked for a priest to say some words at her bedside.

As a young girl, Edna was thinking of joining the sisterhood, so she would have appreciated his words and thoughts. Thank you.

Thank you from the Miller family to all who cared for my mother, and, with such great respect, and to my dear wife Janie, who I could not have done without.

Good on you all!

She was a fighter to the end.

- Max Miller