Anton Schick was a man full of faith, whose love of God was integral to all in his life: his family, his friends, his parish communities, firstly in Rockhampton and then on the Capricorn Coast, and with the wider community.  He was a teacher at heart.  Having worked as a teacher, he continued in retirement to share his faith in so many ways.  As a lover of music, he also shared this passion within the community, regularly going to the Aged Care Facilities and entertaining the elderly.  We share with his beloved wife, Joan, and the family our prayers for this man who has now entered into the fullness of God's life and love. 

From the Eulogy given by Daniel Schick

As Teresa so eloquently expressed in a recent email via TeamSchick, Dad was ready to be with God. His unshakeable faith helped him to be ready. I’m so grateful that with the wonders of modern medicine his pain was tolerable and not extended. Despite some cognitive difficulty, his true self was mostly there for us to see until very recently. Just three weeks ago we sat and laughed together at the antics of Basil Faulty like we had done decades ago.

From the Homily given by Fr Tony Schick

In the days after Dad’s death, that smile was the focus of a lot of my prayer, and I felt like I was getting in touch with the Resurrection in a whole new way, because of that smile.  I’m not trying to convince anyone else of anything, here, but just to share what seemed to be my experience: I felt like the Resurrection of the dead had become a whole lot more real and tangible and present, for me, than ever before.

Heaven, and the resurrection—we believe in it, we look forward to it, but it does tend to be a bit “theoretical” and distant, the subject of hope for the future, and not terribly practical and “real” in the present.  This can be true even for us “religious” types.  I think as I pondered that smile of Dad’s, I felt a bit like the disciples must have felt when they touched and ate with the risen Jesus: heaven has broken into this world, and is a concrete, physical reality here and now.  I say this because I think Dad must have begun to see something of heaven, in that moment of dying.