Read by his children Catherine Gill, Fiona Gill and Frank Gill

When Dad’s time was near last week, our sister Karen let us know with beautiful simplicity “It’s time for us to gather”. Doesn’t that just reflect one of Dad’s greatest gifts to us all – his love of a great gathering, always bringing us together to celebrate, laugh and love? And he’s done it again today, with his closest friends and family here to remember and honour him. 

We’ll talk more about some of Dad’s accomplishments soon. But surely one of his greatest achievements, certainly in his view, was his choice of bride. As Dad tells it, he knew very early on she was the one. Judy apparently initially took some convincing, but Dad was tenacious, and after marrying in 1964, they enjoyed 57 years of marriage. It’s a testament to their life long friendships that four of their wedding party are here today to celebrate Dad – John Eyers, John Quinn, Pat Huppatz and Mary Gill.

We always had the sense Dad couldn’t quite believe his luck in marrying Judy. And if he was ever in danger of forgetting how well he’d done, Mum could be relied upon to give him a gentle reminder. His love for Judy was never more radiant than when we’d watch them dancing beautifully together, like Spalding’s version of Fred and Ginger. 

Dad and Mum famously went on to have seven (perfect) children; six of us are here today but youngest brother Dave is sadly absent due to the strange times we currently live in. He and Nona and Samudra are watching online from Singapore, and they hope to catch up with many of you later at the wake by joining in the laughter and story-telling through video calls. 

Dad instilled in all of us such passion for life. He was interested in everything, with a very broad world view. He was curious, critical, and engaged on social justice issues. This diversity was often captured in Dad’s famous weekly “My dear children” letter, which could include everything from Spalding rainfall (or lack thereof) and bowls results, to reflections on global issues, crises and conflicts, as well as philosophical musings about life and love … often all on the same page. 

Dad started that famous letter as something of a tribute to his own father who wrote to him throughout boarding school to keep him connected to his family and to the farm. Which takes us to the start of Peter’s story … he was born in North Adelaide on 13 August 1940, the second son to Vera and Syd after Kevin, who sadly passed away as a young boy when Dad was only two. His sisters Mary and Josie are with us today. His brother John would have loved dearly to be here, but is instead joining us online from quarantine in Adelaide. 

Dad and his siblings had a childhood on the Spalding farm filled with family, music, love, laughter, and plenty of hard work. He did his primary schooling at St Joseph’s Convent in Spalding (now Paula and Trevor’s beautiful home) then won a scholarship to Rostrevor College for high school. After school Dad then took on farming at Myola alongside his father Syd. A wonderful adventure followed soon after with Dad undertaking a Rural Youth exchange to the United States in 1962, where he lived and worked with farming families in Colorado. Some of the friendships he made back then have endured to this day, and these same American farmers even hosted some of Dad’s kids on later travel adventures. 

Dad returned home through Europe, and while many of his children went on to be great backpackers, Dad was truly ahead of his time with ‘budget travel’. Before the ship sailed home from Europe, he was down to his last dollars in Paris and had to make one sausage and a baguette last him much longer than his famous love of food would have liked. Despite this, his travel bug never left him, and he and Mum went on many great overseas trips, with visits to his children spread across the globe bringing the most joy. 

Dad was a skilled and passionate farmer and cared deeply for the land he lived on. There were not many things that made him happier than looking out from the farmhouse veranda at sunset through the trees, or watching the late afternoon light dancing over crops as he drove through his beloved mid north in the late springtime. 

Service was something that both filled and defined Dad’s life. He sat on local sports, school, church and land management committees, and devoted much time to Rural Youth in his younger years and then the Royal Agricultural and Horticultural Society as a committee and Council member for over 40 years. This enduring commitment to community was acknowledged in the last decade when Dad was honoured with both the Spalding Community Service Award in 2013 and the Medal of the Order of Australia in 2015. It speaks to Dad’s character and genuine love of community that he was equally proud of both.

In speaking of Peter’s community service and all he accomplished, Dad would be the first to acknowledge none of that would have been possible without Mum. The commitment to community from a family man with a farm and seven children necessarily came at a cost, and that cost was most often borne by Mum. All those times when Peter was out serving on his multitude of boards and committees, Mum was running the household and wrangling children, all while juggling teaching commitments, her role as Spalding’s first female Councillor, and membership of many community organisations. Truly a team effort.

Dad was a true sports tragic. He may not have looked like a natural athlete, but he played cricket, football, and tennis; swam; helped coach our teams and manage our sports clubs. He and Mum drove us all over the state for our sports meets. When our out of town sport fell on a Sunday, and much to his kids’ frustration, he’d always find a local mass for us to attend. He was a world class spectator too. He truly delighted in any kind of sports, from elite level to local games and school carnivals, more excited by true sportsmanship than the results. And he was a great supporter of women’s sports, including much excitement and respect about the new national Women’s AFL league.    

All this connection through committees and sports meant that you simply couldn’t go anywhere without Dad finding someone he knew whether that was in the main street of Clare or at a pub in Ireland.

Dad was nothing if not egalitarian in his love of entertainment, equally happy at world class opera or Spalding community theatre.  As a devoted father of seven, and grandfather to nine, Dad must surely hold a world record in attending school concerts. While even the most enthusiastic parents amongst us might not see school concerts as the social highlight of the year, Dad genuinely loved seeing kids and teachers giving their best. He sang, clapped and laughed louder than anyone in the room: delighting other parents, and mortifying his cool teenage kids. Everyone knew he was in the audience, and that the applause was genuine.  

His devotion extended beyond family and sport. As you know, he was also a man of great faith, deeply committed to the Catholic Church. This commitment didn’t necessarily extend to staying awake during mass. As any member of the Spalding church community can attest, Dad was a gold medallist in sleeping upright on a hard wooden pew, often providing a gentle snoring to accompany the priest’s sermon. When Dad sadly had trouble sleeping in his bed in his final months, we joked we should have bought one of the Spalding Church pews for his sleepless nights. 

Most of us here today (hopefully all) are past believing in Father Christmas. But if he was real, surely Santa was personified in Pete. Yes, the beard, the smile, the belly – but also his ability to connect with everyone from toddlers to grandparents. What fun it was to be out with Dad, and see kids walk past with wide eyes and open mouths, convinced they’d spied Father Christmas on a day off in his civvies. On learning of Dad’s passing, one of our friends recounted a story of a young girl approaching Dad at Footy Park, asking if he was Father Christmas. He embraced the role and played along, whispering to her “yes I am, but don’t tell anyone else”.   

We’ve spoken a lot about the warm and gentle side of Dad, but he also had a firm parental side. It was most often expressed in gentle ways, but ways that left you in no doubt that you’d failed to meet his high standards. We kids all experienced ‘the look’, accompanied by the stern “I’m not angry, I’m disappointed” – a wounding blow to the heart. But even more lethal, the dreaded “You’re a slow learner”. We’re still learning Dad, but we learnt from the best. 

Dad gave so much to community and public life, but his greatest legacy will be the incredibly strong family he and Mum created. He was happiest when surrounded by his family, typified with our gathering for many days at the farm each year for Christmas, with just 40 or so of his closest relatives. 

Dad took so much joy from our endeavours, and from his gorgeous grandchildren. He encouraged us to never take our beautiful family for granted, reminding us how blessed we are with our genuine love of being with each other. 

We will continue to honour his legacy through our Gilly gatherings, and through celebrating his enduring love for Judy, and Peter will always be joining us in spirit.