In Sydney, 2002 on the 13th of May.
Ruth Cracknell, Australia’s greatest actress passed away,
Our Ruth died quietly at night in a nursing home bed,
Her courageous heart stopped with angels singing overhead.
Her last scene was a battle with respiratory disease.
She was 76 years old when she discovered peace.
If Australia is an slowly emerging frontier,
Then Ruth Cracknell embodied that wonderful idea.
She wrote: \" The last word always belongs to the audience.
I remember their involvement, that blessed connection,
that silken thread that links two hundred, five hundred,
a thousand people to a small circle of concentrated energy.
Yes, that is a most powerful feeling. One that is worth savouring on
dark nights when the wind blows.
On the other hand, there is no way of ever knowing, when one
steps out into that circle, if the connection will be made.
The promise is there, the hope is there, but no certainty whatsoever.
Which is, I suppose, the attraction.
That connection, when it happens, is magic.
When it doesn\'t… Turn out the lights…\"
Ruth Cracknell was unique and is and missed by her beloved.
For this humble observer the connection has been made.
(There is a shuffle in the wings)(Ruth Appears)
God I must look a fright. (pause) but I guess it\'s alright.
Oh yes, apparently I\'m dead. (pause) I lost the fight.
It\'s hardly surprising considering my age,
And it\'s not even the first time I\'ve died on stage.
However, it would have been nicer if one knew,
One could have prepared hours before it was due.
Imagine having loads of time to get prepared,
A little smile and a bright red dress if you dared,
Much better when the grim reaper knocks at your door,
Than coughing up pints of blood all over the floor,
Death, ha, I laugh at you , you don\'t scare me at all,
Of course you don\'t know, I mean it\'s my curtain call,
Death is not a final farewell our last goodbyes,
No, some part of us lives on in our child\'s eyes,
I know my mother and my aunts lived on through me,
They are gone yet I see them as clear as can be.
That is the great question we all try to answer,
What would you do if you were told you had cancer?
To know when you will cast of this mortal coil,
You would have time. It would hardly be toil,
You could tidy up your affairs before you went.
I never had affairs. None worthy of comment,
My love , my Eric, he was a wonderful man,
My affair was with the stage as much as one can,
The God of the stage allows the impossible,
Plays are still magical and that\'s incredible,
I adored the stage and I loved the poetry,
Where else can your imagination be set free?
(Ruth adopts a poetic/dramatic stance)
I, Pegasus, am not such a beautiful horse,
Yet I, Pegasus can fly along the sun\'s course,
That is how the Gods allow the impossible,
I, Phoenix, have not such beautiful strong feathers,
Yet I, Phoenix have risen from the burnt ashes,
This is how the Gods allow the impossible.
I am just a humble woman,
But I have danced the waltz with a beautiful man,
That is how love allows the impossible.
Death came to me as a respiratory ailment.
I ran out of puff! That\'s what they really meant,
God above, what were you trying to say to me?
As you gently ushered me to eternity.
What were you trying to prove, that I talk too much?
It was mine! The gift of pausation or some such!
I had a good innings; the play had a good run,
Here is the gift of pausation to all and one,
And keep watching those re-runs of Mother and Son.