We gather today in sorrow and grief.
Sorrow and grief don’t announce themselves, they don’t knock politely at the door or wait until we are ready. They can arrive like a storm at any moment: sudden, fierce, and indifferent to how tightly we’ve latched our windows.
When Georgia passed away, the world didn’t end — but it did fall silent in a way I had never known before.
I met Georgia on the 12th of February, 1989, in Athens. From that very first moment, we knew we were meant for each other.
She was born in Melbourne to Athanasios and Antonia Flaskas, with family roots in the island of Kythera and in Messinia.
Georgia was a dedicated teacher and librarian, giving years of service to schools across Melbourne — from Upfield to Diamond Creek, Lalor, Richmond, Lalor North, and at the Rowden White Library at the University of Melbourne.
Her professional life was marked by generosity, integrity, and a love for learning — a love she shared freely with both students and colleagues.
But one of the most significant things about Georgia was that her contributions reached far beyond the classroom.
In 1995, together with four others, we founded Barricade Books/Infoshop, a space for learning, organising, and resistance in Brunswick.
She was a cultural and a community worker, a voice for those so often unheard.
In 1993, we co-founded the bilingual Greek and English radio program No Word Order on 3CR Community Radio, where she was also involved in the Accent of Women program.
She was a key member of the Brunswick Women’s Theatre, reflecting her deep belief in the power of grassroots art and community-led change.
Together, we took part in countless rallies, demonstrations, and actions — always in pursuit of a more just, compassionate world.
Her book, That Woman in Black: Stories of Older Immigrant Women in Moreland (now Merri-bek), stands as a lasting testament to her commitment to amplifying marginalised voices — particularly those of women whose stories deserved to be heard.
It is more than a collection of narratives; it is an act of preservation — of memory, migration, and resilience.
Georgia was also an avid traveller and passionate music lover. Together, we travelled to many countries and places around the world, and we attended countless concerts and cultural events.
She was a woman of intellect, compassion, creativity, and an unwavering commitment to community, education and culture.
I think I can say this, as someone who shared 36 years of love and partnership with her.
Together, we tried to build a home rooted in respect, creativity, and activism and to pass on those same values to our children, Elektra and Anatoli.
Those who knew Georgia remember her not only for what she did, but for who she was, they remember her warmth, her quiet determination, her wit, and her deep empathy.
She gave her time freely, loved fiercely, and lived with purpose.
As we say our final goodbye, we honour her spirit with the words she championed throughout her life: community, creativity, and care.
Today, we express not only our sorrow but also our deep gratitude — for the life she lived, the lives she touched, and the love she gave so freely.
There is a proverb that says, “Time is the best doctor.” It suggests that time is a natural healer, that emotional wounds and hardships gradually fade and become easier to bear.
I don’t know if time offers an absolute cure to pain, sadness, or disappointment. But Georgia’s story is my story — and it is now part of your story, our story — because her memory lives on in each of us.
Georgia was a devoted teacher-librarian, served in secondary education for many years supported and inspired her students with the same love with which she taught.
She was a music lover.She had a passion to culture and public discourse.
She was a mother.
Her absence weighs heavily on us, yet her presence will remain indelible, through her work, her kindness, and the love she gave so generously.
Gentle being of my dreams
Foaming wave of the sea
Fruit of a stormy breeze
Moon shyly walking by
A glimmer rising from the earth’s shadow
Sweet maiden in the heart of the sky
A multitude of stars greets you
With your radiant eyes in my pale dawn
I would wish to paint your heart
Your senses, soft as a caress
Your walk in the music of rain
Your courage that makes your body agile
Your hair like wildflowers
Your lips like white lilies
I’d wish your stems in my crimson songs
To gaze at you until my eyes run dry
To grow bold with a flutter
In far-off fields full of cyclamens
To feel your burning breath
To hold the whole world in my arms
Seeking the same flower
Dimitris Troaditis – Partner (From an unpublished poem).
