Anne Waring

I had the honour and privilege of meeting and knowing Anne and Gary though there son James from school it was during an art exhibition when I met Anne and Gary and introduced myself and told them I was there sons best friend, Anne was an amazing women so kind lovely and caring and supportive I honestly felt welcome with open arms Anne gave us one of her kittens from her cat jet whom we called marmaduke and had him right up to his passing I was deeply saddened when I saw and heard the news of Anne’s passing I had literally started to cry while I was on my meal break at work and immediately texted James and arranged to meet him and Gary with my fiancee Sophie to pass on our sincerest condolences I also lighten a holy prayer candle to assure Anne and family is guided by the holy light and protect and guiding all around them during the difficult passing I will forever miss Anne and her lovely personality and Smile and will cherish the memories I have of Anne a little poem I like to post in honor of Anne Good byes are not forever, Good byes are not the end. They simply mean il miss you Till we meet again

Anne was a wonderful twin sister to my wife, Julia, and a sweet sister in law to me. I met Anne in 1984 in South Africa during my several invites for dinner to Julia’s family home after Julia and I started dating. Anne was an excellent cook, and provided scrumptious 3 course meals. We all chatted long into the night with Julia’s mom, and Anne. In 1986 Anne was Julia’s bridesmaid at our wedding, and also made the most beautiful wedding cake and carriage.  Anne then moved to the UK, and Julia and I had a brief visit with Anne in London in October 1987. She was a most excellent tour guide. We weren’t able to visit again until 1997, when we spent a delightful few weeks all staying together in Anne’s home in Bow, where we got to know Gary, Yvette and James. Our children loved spending time with their aunty Anne. Always kind, doing exciting crafts with the kids, and always full of fun and surprises!  After another long period of absence due to our mission work in Malawi and Tanzania, we moved to Bedford, U.K. in 2009. We all loved visiting Anne and her fun family in Bow. She was a great host, and entertainer. There was never a dull moment…food, an endless supply of teas, coffee, (even iced coffees), sweets, biscuits, and always a delicious meals and puddings. She was the queen of games, outside activities, and even dramas. She always made us feel welcome and was so kind hearted. She cared deeply for her aging mom, and we would often meet up at Granny’s home and then later care home. Anne was a wonderful and compassionate human, with an endless compassion for humans and animals too. She selflessly cared for her family and always seemed to see a humerous side to even difficult things to lighten the mood. We will miss her laughter and fun, and her warm kind heart, but I believe will will meet again one day. It was so sad to see her so sick in hospital, but she would welcome prayer whenever Julia and I offered to pray for her. Only 3 days before she passed we asked if she would like to put her faith in Jesus, who freely offers eternal life to those who believe in him, and she said yes. Sincere condolences to Gary, Yvette and James, and all her family and friends. May God comfort you all. We will carry wonderful memories of her in our hearts, and are grateful for the privilege of knowing her.

Anne was always very kind to me. That kindness lives on in her children who are a reflection of caring nature. I am very saddened by her passing. My love and condolences to her family.

So loved and always in our hearts and thoughts. Beautiful memories of our beautiful Anne. We had such fun and laughed so much. Brilliant times in London, Nederland and Leeds. Many a Christmas, lots of New years, birthdays and holidays. Adorable, amazing Annie so generous, kind and wonderful. Remembered forever our beautiful, precious Anne. Massive love, humongous huge huggles and gentle squeezley squeezles to Gary, Yvette and James from Colette, Louise & Fayé XXX XXX XXX

What can you say about a sister who, because of distance and time, wasn’t someone you knew as well as you might have wished? When I heard of Anne’s passing, I was surprised by the depth of sadness I felt, a sense of loss that was unexpected and hard to fully understand, yet very real. My memories of my big sister are rooted in childhood. Anne was six years older than me, and I remember her as warm, funny, and so very smart. I think of camping trips, of exploring together, of shared laughter and the simple joy of being young. Those moments, though few, have stayed with me all these years. When Anne moved to the UK, it was many years before I saw her again. On that visit, she met my eldest daughter, who wasn’t yet two. I remember my daughter telling me how lucky I was to have a sister, and that Anne was so funny. Hearing that felt like a small gift, a reminder that the qualities I remembered in Anne were still so present and so deeply felt by others. I send all of my love to everyone who knew her more fully and loved her dearly. Anne loved with her whole heart, and that love does not end here, it lives on in the memories, stories, and lives she touched, and in each and every one of us who carry her with us. With love from us all, Colette Waring Rundle xxx

Anne, 60 is too young to leave us! What of the fun anticipated in a second childhood together? Losing you feels like a gripping book, unfinished, closed, the end unwritten. But thank you Anne, for the beautiful memories to comfort us in the long, missing-you days to come. Anne Louise, my sister, my twin. From inseparable little girls wriggling and growing together in our dear mum’s womb, we shared many adventures. I was a sickly child. Here Anne’s beautiful, kind, nurturing instincts could first be recognised . She was my pillar, my best friend, the other half of childhood-me. Born in Kitwe, Zambia on January 14 th – African summer babies, we spent our first years on a smallholding down a long, red, dusty African road. Once upon a toddler time we disappeared. I think we were 2 at the time. A desperate search found us happily hand in hand, oblivious to the panic, enjoying our stroll down the long red dust road going somewhere, together. You know what they say about twins – double trouble! Double joy for me! Zambia: I remember swimming together in the cool reservoir, walking barefoot in the veld under hot African skies, learning to avoid yucky meadow muffins left by cows, and painful army ants that swarm and bite! We had a mutual fascination for all things living . I remember hunkering down with Anne to look at a snake in the garden. Fortunately for us, the snake was more interested in a toad which turned white from fright before becoming lunch. Our mum loved to recount the time we rushed into the house with urgent news: “The sheep’s broken in half!” A goat had given birth before our eyes – how special! And so began our childhood career of midwives for kittens (both cats and rabbits). We smuggled in bunnies under the bed and kept garden snails and shongololos (big African millipedes) in the bedside cabinet. Zambia has bittersweet memories. Our brother died in a horrendous car accident. Nigel, gone too soon for us to know him, but always there, I think, still shaping our identity a little in the missing of what might have been. So we concentrated all our annoying-younger-sister energy onto our dear brother Andrew, full of older-brother charm, mad boy ideas rooted in kindness, and not a little mischief. We so loved his weekends with us, home from boarding school, the inventive games – what’s health-and-safety?, and maybe? losing to him, the banker, in Monopoly. We grew up in South Africa, somewhat by accident, from the age of 4, starting in a small one-bedroom hotel apartment in Johannesburg. There was no money so shortly afterwards we went to an orphanage. Not as orphans but treated as such. Dorm-mother was a job for my mom, a roof over our heads, and food in our bellies until something better turned up. We slept in a dormitory of 20 beds and had to be treated like the other orphans. An unhappy stay for us all but with Anne at my side, I felt safe. But our dad came to our rescue, buying us a lovely house in Randburg before returning to his other family. Our mom got a new job and we started school. At school, Anne did so well. She was a mostly A-grade student , not like me. But with her inimitable grace and beauty – true to her name, Anne looked out for me. So the teachers decided we needed separating into different classes. Undeterred, Anne knitted 2 sausage dogs one year – one for each of us, so I could also pass handcrafts, and then she taught me how to knit and crochet, something everyone else hadn’t achieved. We shared a love of swimming, building encyclopaedia houses for our Barbie dolls – yes, those expensive encyclopaedias did come in handy! We were partners in truancy, almost setting the house on fire, a first naughty cigarette in the bedroom cupboard, and fearlessly scrambling like monkeys on the steeply-pitched roof of our house. Together, we performed umbrella puddle dances during thunder showers, went prospecting in streams, and embarked on exciting bike expeditions. Anne’s stage presence and hilarious characterisations in our home-spun theatre and ballet productions were memorable. We shared a love of the same music – ABBA, of course! and the same books – about animals mostly – but Anne would read the end for me first so I wouldn’t cry if they were sad. I could go on. Twins but not identical. She a Lefty; me right-handed. Her favourite colour blue, mine “pink”, I think. She loved skirts, I loved trousers. I was lazy, she was diligent, even cleaning the house voluntarily as a teen to help our mum. We both loved art. To me, Anne is the kindest most wonderful sister I could have ever asked for. We had to grow up. We chose different careers. And different paths. Anne started a BAcc so she could work all day and then pay for her night classes at Wits University. She got 95% for her first-year maths. Personal struggles around that time blossomed into Anne’s mouth-watering skills in the kitchen. She had an incredible talent with sugar, making adorable icing woodland creatures for our 21 st (a picnic in the park), and 6 months later, my beautiful bestie sister was my bridesmaid and made our wedding cake with an exquisite icing Cinderella carriage. That same year our dad died. Another sad, confusing time. Anne came to the UK and I stayed in Africa. So we loved from a distance as adults. When I became a Christian, a fork had appeared in the path we once walked together. Though we walked different paths, Anne remained constant and faithful, full of love and passionately loyal . Her second name, Louise, means “renowned warrior”. A gentler soul hasn’t worn this name so well. Anne’s gentle, nurturing kindness did not prevent her from being a tenacious advocate for the vulnerable and suffering. She debated powerfully in class against Apartheid, and a personal example for us is her tireless research and advocacy on our behalf when our son‘s adoption was rescinded and he was soon afterwards kidnapped. And I think you know of her many other causes. Thank you, Anne, for your fierce, loving heart. Though miles apart, much of the time on different continents, we spoke for well over an hour almost every week, in stitches over her hilarious self-deprecating stories. But these last 6 months have had more tears than laughs. Her pain and struggles were unimaginable, but she remained a strong warrior for those she loved. She did it with grace and beauty still, even from her hospital bed, even then trying to look after those clustered around it. Our birthday, as you know, is 14th January. I loved sharing it with Anne. She was my best birthday gift. And I treasure the recent shared birthdays – gifts from our families: ABBA Experience and ABBA Voyage, pottery making – the laughs, the mishaps when my pottery told us what it wanted to be, the fun! Thank you for these beautiful memories!  How grateful I am I could be with Anne and the family during her last week. On the Sunday before Anne passed, I shared with Anne a passage I had read that morning in Church. John 14. Jesus was with His friends just before He was going to die. He said to them, “I am going to my Father and will make place for you there.” His invitation: “Please come to me there. All who want to come to Me are so welcome.” I asked Anne if she wanted to go to Jesus. She wasn’t talking much by then, but she squeezed my hand – a yes – and whispered “amen” with tears in her eyes. I take comfort from this. And today, Anne is not wandering down that long dusty red road hand in hand with me, nor getting lost above ground in London; she has gone on ahead and I will see her there. I love you, my precious sister!

Eulogy by Yvette: Thank you all for being here today to say goodbye to my mum, Anne Louise Waring. Epping Forest holds a special place in my heart, as it’s where I spent many summers as a child with mum and dad and their friends exploring nature and playing. Through my mind’s eye, it’s a picturesque place with glistening sun rays through tree tops and blooming flowers with many happy memories, and so it feels like the natural space to say farewell to my mum. Trying to write this eulogy, I realised that there is no way to say goodbye to your mother. You can’t untwine yourself from their teachings, their physical affectations, the essence of their being, or their love, because  you  are their ultimate creation. The embodiment of all of their hopes and best dreams, and it is up to me, and my brother James, to let her continue to shine through us.  My mother was the most empathetic person I knew. She cared so very deeply about all living creatures, and spent some  considerable  time and effort saving  as many  as she could – from bees, to fish, to cats, to pigeons. Rarely would a year go by without me hearing her tell a new story of some poorly creature she had saved and nurtured. Recently, I was going through some of her belongings and I came across a somewhat odd looking box. It was a tupperware box which housed tissues, a vial of a white crystal-like substance and a syringe-like implement. Before my mind could properly begin to worry, I realised that this was her bee saving kit! She would carry it around in the summer ready to save any fainting bees by administering sugar water! If that’s not dedication to saving the planet, I don’t know what is.  She also cared deeply about humanity and was an incredibly moral person who felt all injustice personally – almost as if she was plugged into the pain of the world. She was beautifully articulate and incredibly intelligent and would use her voice to advocate for people often overlooked in society. Growing up in South Africa, she had seen first hand the injustices meted out by an intolerant society during the last struggles of Apartheid, and so she would spend the rest of her life sharing those experiences to teach us the past, in hopes we could be part of making a better future. My mother had the most wonderful imagination and her talented creativity would flood into anything she wanted to make, be it pottery or cakes or stories or drawing. She was also the best playmate any child could wish for – so much so I’m convinced that half the children in our neighbourhood only came over to play games with my mum rather than me. She would invest so much time in weaving magic for children, especially me and my brother. On Christmas morning each year, we would wake to find a letter from  “Father Christmas”  with “ reindeer paw prints ” lovingly manufactured across the carpet, travelling from the front door to the Christmas tree, and a half eaten carrot dropped amongst the presents, which – according to the letter – had been left behind by Rudolph. This tradition continued well into my early 30s, and I’ll forever cherish the Christmas magic my mum kept alive for so long. She had bravely persevered through various illnesses in recent years, and did so with a never-waning sense of self-deprecating humour that could make me laugh on my saddest day. My mum deserved so many wonderful things, far more than the universe could give such a shining star. But the love, and passion, and empathy she has inspired in her children – and indeed anyone she knew – is her legacy. And it’s a beautiful one.

James’ speech: I remember bits of my first day at school. After only a few minutes in class, I ran out crying for mum. Obviously school made a good impression on me. She was still waiting there behind the school fence and upon hearing my “heroic” scream she ran straight back. Whenever I had difficulties overcoming obstacles and suffering from anxiety, she was my security blanket. She championed me in all my accomplishments and supported me in any way she could…everyway (including my horrific spelling). We both shared a love of animals, which perhaps explains why we had so many of them (plus one of our cats having birth control issues). A few years ago, mum looked after a sick baby bird. Blind in both eyes and riddled with infection (poor thing). Tweedle only lived for about a week, but she nurtured him, fed him, bathed him and loved him (securing Tweedle a few…really good days. It was sad to say goodbye but I’m thankful for the time). Mum was always somebody who was affected by the injustices of this world. It’s who she was. I’d like to think that this has shaped me as a person. She always put others above herself and was modest at heart (despite her talent and wit). Her humour was on point playing Sergeant Howie in a spoof home-made version of The Wicker Man…for my birthday. Probably the best birthday present in existence. Speaking of birthdays, her cakes were works of art. Mum made me a cake for a separate birthday where it depicted a scene from the TV drama “Lost”. Both of us were big fans. It showcased a big jungle pit alongside probably every major character from that show (all made of icing). As a fan, this cake slayed. Mum was an absolutely terrific cook and an exceptional host. She was always there. When I was being bullied at school, Mum would be there for me – showing them who’s boss (legally). Then she would console me by persevering through endless Doctor Who content with me. She wasn’t just a mum to me, she was also my best friend. There weren’t many days before her passing where I hadn’t seen her. I remember her strength during those last weeks and how she was trying to cheer me up when I was struggling. Not just me but the whole family. She was an amazing mum.

Gary’s memory: Two months ago I was in a side ward at Whitechapel Hospital with Anne. A doctor came in and informed us that she had lung cancer and that it had spread and that there was very little that they were gonna be able to do for her. After the doctor left, I totally broke down, emotionally, physically, every other way, and literally for the next two hours, I was just sobbing really. Over those hours, Anne did everything she could to console me, and to let me know that things would be ok, and that she would fight to stay alive for as long as she could, and that we would do things together, and that’s the sort of person that she was. She always always put other people before herself and that’s the way everybody I think will remember her.

Happy birthday in heaven our beautiful and brilliant Annie. The wonderful precious memories, the laughter, joy and love I have. So grateful my sweetie friend. In our hearts & thoughts forever XXX