Pat Bateup passed away at Wagin District Hospital on the 21st August 2019. She is survived by her children John, Raelene and David, Garry and Audrey, 9 grandchildren and 11 great-grandchildren. Pat was nearly 96 years old and formed a great team with her late husband Curly Bateup. Pat was known for her wonderful cooking, her amazing knowledge of the local history, her super bionic ears which heard and saw everything (due to Pats failing eye sight), and her immense love for her family. Daughter Raelene delivered the eulogy at her mother’s funeral and finished it with “a tough and active life, a job well done Mum - and we love you”. Granddaughter Melanie Thompson shared memories of their Nan on behalf of the 9 grandchildren and recounted many warm and loving memories, finishing with: “we will all miss our chats with Nan but it’s her time to re-join her soul mate Pop to be his ears and he her eyes. Nan’s passing will leave a big void in all our lives – the Mother hen has left the coop for she is now happy, her job is done”
Unfortunately a very strong wind and rain storm developed during the funeral and we had to miss hearing daughter Amber Bateup’s tribute. With her permission we are able to print it here for all to read. Thank you to all who have supported the Bateup Family and shared time with Pat.
Message to Pat from her family:
“Mum, your life was full of loving deeds, forever thoughtful of our special needs, today and tomorrow, our whole life through, we will always love and cherish you. “Mum, you can now join Dad, Liz, Paula, Kathryn, Shannon and Matthew at the Pearly Gates Café for that well-earned cuppa with family.”
Tribute from Granddaughter Amber Bateup:
I wanted to share some of my precious memories of Nan with you today.
We would wake up early when I would stay at the Bennett Street home - 6 o’clock. As I’d make her a cup of extremely weak tea I’d ask her if she had any dreams the night before. Most of the time yes - filled with people she knew and scenes from the family farm. When I was very young, she would take me on long walks - down the back lane and through the bush which was filled with spider and donkey orchids and thick with spikey native plants.
Staying at Nan and Pop’s home during the school holidays - Nan would warn me not to go into any of the cupboards and mess things up. As a curious kid I couldn’t help myself opening drawers and looking at the old folded doilies and forgotten watches. I would try my best to put things back in their original place but Nan would always know if something had shifted even slightly - and it was guaranteed I would be scolded by her when she found out.
During the days spent at their home, I would often walk around with my eyes closed, using only my hands to feel my way - trying to better understand how it felt for Nan. I wanted my other senses to be stronger just like hers. I often referred to Nan’s hearing as “super bionic” as she would know when I would be coming out of Dad’s gate next door and be walking over to her house. We would spend hours in the sunroom chatting and basking in the sunlight and it was during these moments that I really learnt how to sit and listen - Nan always had memories to share.
My appreciation for gardening came from times when the both of us would be out on the front lawn on our hands and knees digging weeds out while Pop sat on the front porch smoking cigarettes.
As I grew older and started taking an interest in photography - Nan and Pops home and domestic life became the central focus of my pictures for the next 10 years. Most of the time Nan would tolerate the incessant clicks of the camera and in the times that she became annoyed, I would justify by saying “Nan, my memory is not as good as yours and that’s why I need to take photographs.”
When I would return from travelling overseas, she would be the first person I would call to share all the details of my new experiences. I wouldn’t skimp on the details either like when I ate a tarantula and some crickets in Cambodia - she gasped and laughed “oh no Amber, you didn’t?!”
When I would visit her in the hospital I would describe what outfit I was wearing and then I would grab her hand so that she could feel the hem of my skirt or shirt - Most of the time they were either frayed or had holes and she would say “Amber, you’ve got to wear proper clothes already!” Self-presentation was important to Nan so in recent years I made an effort to make sure my clothing was hole free during my visits!
Nan was a woman who taught me how to sit and listen, to enjoy the sun when it shines and to seek out laughter as often as possible.
Article by Margie Ward & tribute by Amber Bateup
Unfortunately a very strong wind and rain storm developed during the funeral and we had to miss hearing daughter Amber Bateup’s tribute. With her permission we are able to print it here for all to read. Thank you to all who have supported the Bateup Family and shared time with Pat.
Message to Pat from her family:
“Mum, your life was full of loving deeds, forever thoughtful of our special needs, today and tomorrow, our whole life through, we will always love and cherish you. “Mum, you can now join Dad, Liz, Paula, Kathryn, Shannon and Matthew at the Pearly Gates Café for that well-earned cuppa with family.”
Tribute from Granddaughter Amber Bateup:
I wanted to share some of my precious memories of Nan with you today.
We would wake up early when I would stay at the Bennett Street home - 6 o’clock. As I’d make her a cup of extremely weak tea I’d ask her if she had any dreams the night before. Most of the time yes - filled with people she knew and scenes from the family farm. When I was very young, she would take me on long walks - down the back lane and through the bush which was filled with spider and donkey orchids and thick with spikey native plants.
Staying at Nan and Pop’s home during the school holidays - Nan would warn me not to go into any of the cupboards and mess things up. As a curious kid I couldn’t help myself opening drawers and looking at the old folded doilies and forgotten watches. I would try my best to put things back in their original place but Nan would always know if something had shifted even slightly - and it was guaranteed I would be scolded by her when she found out.
During the days spent at their home, I would often walk around with my eyes closed, using only my hands to feel my way - trying to better understand how it felt for Nan. I wanted my other senses to be stronger just like hers. I often referred to Nan’s hearing as “super bionic” as she would know when I would be coming out of Dad’s gate next door and be walking over to her house. We would spend hours in the sunroom chatting and basking in the sunlight and it was during these moments that I really learnt how to sit and listen - Nan always had memories to share.
My appreciation for gardening came from times when the both of us would be out on the front lawn on our hands and knees digging weeds out while Pop sat on the front porch smoking cigarettes.
As I grew older and started taking an interest in photography - Nan and Pops home and domestic life became the central focus of my pictures for the next 10 years. Most of the time Nan would tolerate the incessant clicks of the camera and in the times that she became annoyed, I would justify by saying “Nan, my memory is not as good as yours and that’s why I need to take photographs.”
When I would return from travelling overseas, she would be the first person I would call to share all the details of my new experiences. I wouldn’t skimp on the details either like when I ate a tarantula and some crickets in Cambodia - she gasped and laughed “oh no Amber, you didn’t?!”
When I would visit her in the hospital I would describe what outfit I was wearing and then I would grab her hand so that she could feel the hem of my skirt or shirt - Most of the time they were either frayed or had holes and she would say “Amber, you’ve got to wear proper clothes already!” Self-presentation was important to Nan so in recent years I made an effort to make sure my clothing was hole free during my visits!
Nan was a woman who taught me how to sit and listen, to enjoy the sun when it shines and to seek out laughter as often as possible.
Article by Margie Ward & tribute by Amber Bateup
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