William John Bill White Onlinetributes.com.au

When I first met Bill at the age of 15, I knew he was different when he walked through the door of the Catholic Youth Club in London, looked right through me with his piercing blue eyes and said “Hallo beautiful, are there any more at home like you?”.

I really didn’t know what to say, and thought “he’s a bit too sure of himself” … and yet … there was an unusual fascination about him.
He told me his name was Bill but that, if I liked, I could call him Widge because that’s what his family and close friends called him. So I did … and felt a bit special because I was already considered to be his friend.

On one of our first dates, when he only had pocket money to spend, Widge took me for a long romantic walk, we passed a shop on the way and he offered me a choice of a bar of chocolate or a packet of chewing gum. He made up for that, though, by introducing me to a bench in “Lovers’ Lane” in Dulwich.

When we kissed and cuddled late that evening, around the corner to my house, I felt an unusual sense of destiny even at that early age … little knowing just how incredibly rich that destiny with him would be. The first part of that destiny was that my father appeared in the road looking for me in his pyjamas.

Widge was extremely fit in the early days, riding his bike from London to Brighton and back in a day, playing soccer and many other sports in London and in Papua New Guinea. He really enjoyed teaching soccer after we came to live in Sydney at what was then, Mount Saint Bernard School Pymble.

Widge was always a great dancer and taught me to smile and relax as he guided me in groovy rhythm to Fats Domino, Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, Ray Charles and all those legends of the 50s, 60s and right through to the later years. I always felt like I was in heaven when I danced with Widge.

Widge has always been very good looking [I particularly loved his wonderful lips and strong chin – so much like Paul Newman] and when he was in his thirties, a good friend of ours in Papua New Guinea, who is here today, saw him across the room and asked “Who is that Greek God over there?”

Widge would cheer me up, keep me sane, make me laugh, kiss and hug me, praise my achievements and was a very loving and affectionate husband to me and father to our wonderful children. He was a family man who loved us all with passion.

Widge taught our beloved Sean, Jamie and Rachel to read before they went to school and brought them up to respect, love and care for others, think and respond to those disadvantaged and in need. Widge taught us all so much which will remain etched in our hearts. And this love and these values are being passed down to our beloved grandchildren, Liam, Ella-Rose, Nicholas, Mia, Charlie and Thomas.

I miss him so very deeply – his love, his humour, his sharing of stories – no matter how many times he told a joke, I would find it funny, often because I’d forgotten the punchline but mostly because of his brilliant way of telling them.

Widge’s presence was so strong that I know it will guide me right through to the end of my life. And, like me, I know that my children and their families will always feel his strength guiding them through their lives and helping others along the way.

Widge has danced me very tenderly to the end of love. How very, very lucky I have been to have lived so close to and shared the life of such a man of warmth, passion, tenderness and love.

And to you, Widge, the handsome young boy from Brixton, whom I met at the youth club so long ago and fathered our three wonderful, loving children in the lush and green country of Papua New Guinea, I say this:

In 69 years, you’ve achieved so much
And crossed over many a bridge
You are my strength, you are my man
Our Papa … our Bill … my Widge.

To Teresa and family,
My thoughts are with you all on the loss of a great husband, father and friend.