How many more will die waiting?

Today we buried Aishwarya Aswath. She was seven years old. She died waiting for treatment at the Perth Children's Hospital. A hospital located in a first world nation, in a State which will boast about its $4 billion dollar surplus. She is a symbol of a system that is completely and utterly broken. A system that has been neglected in a rush to rationalise its existence. I delivered a eulogy for her at the funeral service this morning. This is that eulogy:

"17/04/2021

Can I start by acknowledging the prior ownership of the land on which we gather today? We journey with the Aboriginal People in their quest for reconciliation and we pay our respects to their Elders, past present and Emerging. I also want to pass on the good wishes of a number of Noongar elders who asked me to convey the message that “Today we farewell Aishwarya with peace in our hearts. Tomorrow we fight the fight to make it right”

There is almost nothing that I can say that will bring solace to any of you. The events of two Saturday’s ago will remain forever etched in our minds as we rally to provide comfort, assistance and considerable love to the parents of Aishwarya. There is nothing more tragic than the loss of one’s child. Whatever we have done in our lives nothing prepares us for that one day when we have to say farewell to our children.

However, one thing that I can guarantee you is that I, like many of you will do everything that we can to ensure that no one in our community will have to go through what Aswath and Prasitha and their three children have already had to deal with. What we saw happen on that night was nothing short of disgraceful in a country that prides itself as a first world country with a health system supposedly the envy of the rest of the world.

Aishwarya wanted to be a teacher. She wanted to be the youngest ever teacher in this, her country of birth. And that she is now. Because she has taught us all some valuable lessons in the last few days.

She has taught us that life is short.

She has taught us that our respective holds on life are truly fragile.

She has taught us that there should not be a day when we should not hold our loved ones close to us and remind them why we love them.

Let us all resolve that we will take these lessons to heart and hold our loved ones that little bit closer to us.

And like all good teachers she has posed the questions and we have to find the answers. And we will

Aswath and Prasitha, let me say this to you and your three children:

She Is Gone

You can shed tears that she is gone Or you can smile because she has lived

You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left

Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her Or you can be full of the love that you shared

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday

You can remember her and only that she is gone Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back Or you can do what she would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

Over the last few days I have come to know a lot more about this delightful and vibrant young girl Aishwarya. I can say without hesitation that she would want me to say this to you all:

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there - I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints in snow,

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

As you awake with morning's hush

I am the swift-up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there - I did not die.

Aswath and Prasitha and the children and her Achamma, Aishwarya is still with us. She will always be in our hearts and minds. She will always be Australia’s youngest teacher and she will always be FOREVER SEVEN

We are grateful for having had her in our lives albeit too briefly, but the memory will always be there. Much love to all you