Frankie Friess passed away.
How fortunate that Frankie died peacefully.
How could we ever forget her head with those glasses, the long, unkempt mane, the ubiquitous cigarette between brown fingertips.
The wondrous recipe for the Frankie Friess Fruitcake, we loved it, we loved her! Like her delicious Red Elderberry wine, the “English Burgundy”, the tastiest home brew ever!
In a cloud of midges she would unperturbed, cut the long, long grass with a scythe in our front garden; for the horses, in exchange for manure. Sent by her mother who – in hindsight – directed and guided her every step of the way, and whose humour Frankie definitely shared.
Frankie, a child that found it hard to make its way without her.
May she now rest, close to the tombstone of her loving parents.
And may the ones who are left behind remember the tasty stories that young Frankie could tell.
Like the one when she tried to get down from Minaun Heights on her moped in a raging storm.
Bent against the wind and in full throttle, she could not make the slightest progress.
Like an image frozen in time.
Our unforgettable Frankie, she could tell stories as no other.
Frances (Frankie) Friess is buried at St Thomas Church where, for years, her father the rev. Herbert Friess, was the vicar.