Coreen Mae Eastgate

Thinking of you all at this sad time, Joanne & Ross

Dear Cherie , I was so sorry to read of Coreens death. I cant help but remember all the happy times we had together as children at Fruitlands . Just lovely memories . My condolences to you and your family and Coreens wider family too . With Love from June Sinclair /Aitchison

Thinking of you all as you celebrate the life of your beautiful mother and Grandmother. We will always remember her cheerful smile and the depth of her loving kindness,always giving of herself. We feel so fortunate to have known her. Our deepest sympathies Chris and Cherry McElligott

Dear Coreen we were always connected by love, and in particular our love for my father Nigel, and for my two sons John and Sam. You were a loving wife and brought great joy to Nigel. And you were such a treasured Grandma to John and Sam. Your sparkling sense of humour and love for my children will always be remembered with fondness and love. They had many fun times with you when they were little and loved your calls and visits, and our visits to you as they grew up. You'll be missed! With much love from all of us ❤️

Dear Corinne. You taught our children at Balaclava School a while ago, and opened up new horizons for them both. We remember you with gratitude and affection - and I value the time I spent with you hen visiting at Yvette Williams. Rest in peace, dear lady - you were a teacher in a million! We send our sincere condolences to your family. May they find some small comfort in knowing how we valued your influence in our children's lives.

When I think of Grandma, the words that come to mind are excess, generosity, kindness, and patience. Those traits probably describe many grandparents, but for me they sit in contrast with her intermittent no shit attitude toward stupidity. To this day I’m convinced she coined the phrase “Twittish Individual”, a sentiment that feels even more relevant in today’s world. Nothing epitomises the care she had for us more than the times we would stay at her house as children. We would come downstairs to watch cartoons in the morning, and waiting for us, prepared the night before, was always a bowl of lollies or treats. Of course, there were incidents like the microwaved bananas with brown sugar, which to this day have cemented my strong disdain for bananas… Childhood trauma aside, she was always there to help, recording movies onto VHS from Sky, offering a place to return to after surgery, or even somewhere to live. Her generosity of time and resources seemed to know very few bounds. Anyone visiting her, planned or not, could count on offerings from her cupboard full of treats, biscuits, and lollies, provided of course they were willing to overlook the use by dates, which were inevitably surpassed by years rather than days. My earliest memories are bedtime hugs at her Cromwell holiday house in Carrick Place, extravagant Christmas gatherings at Musselburgh Rise, video games, toys, a small playhouse with far too many spiders, rolling my ankle on her swing set (which Nigel/Grandpop saw to), Boxing Day shopping sprees, and later, summer holidays at her Neplusultra Street house in Cromwell. Grandma’s home was often the only place we saw extended family, she enjoyed bringing people together. One event that perfectly captures her unwavering support happened when I suffered a “medical event” at work. She picked me up from Oamaru and drove me to Dunedin Hospital. It turned out to be just a migraine, nothing serious, but the drive itself was one of the most harrowing experiences of my life… speed limits are only a suggestion… it’s only illegal if you get caught… Moments like that, when you’re only 16, make you realise Grandma might not be the sweet little old lady (she was only 60ish) you thought she was! The best plans are often the ones never made. In 2011, wandering down Ara Tapu in Rarotonga, we suddenly found ourselves face to face with Grandma, 3,500km from home, strolling toward us as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. It’s an enduring memory born of pure coincidence, sealed with a seafood platter at Trader Jacks that was far too ambitious for a 30 degree day, and all the more unforgettable because of it. In more recent years, we shared the agony of damaged hip joints, both awaiting surgery. We would text, joking about who would make it to the operating table first. While I was busy feeling sorry for myself, she pressed on stoically, barely slowing down, reminding me of the importance of using the time we have and not dwelling on circumstances outside our control. We were fortunate to spend time with her in 2018, in the months before her stroke. Shopping trips with Ali while she stayed with us in Christchurch for an event, and time spent helping Mum move as she anticipated them living within walking distance of each other, perfect for testing out her imminent hip replacement. Following her stroke, as the years went on and her recovery progressed, we were enlisted to help her “escape” Yvette Williams. We sat with her in the lounge of her former Elgin Road home, energised by the view she had coveted for so many years, reminiscing about her time there with Nigel (Grandpop), family, and friends. Bittersweet as it was, that moment is one few ever have the privilege of reconciling on their journey, and it stands, for me, as a salute to the life she lived and her affinity for the needs of others, so often met at her own detriment. Many will remember Grandma’s habit of posting memes and messages on Facebook or sending them through Messenger. In the days before her stroke, between messages about surgery dates, she sent me a video meme that felt poignant when the news came, and today, again, it feels fitting. It symbolises the way she saw others and the way others saw her as a Mother, Grandmother, and Great Grandmother. I’ve uploaded it to YouTube so her final message to me can be shared with you all: https://youtu.be/ynPfKgVNCMg Love from Scott and Ali