Mr WOLAHAN (Menzies) (14:13): on indulgence—'Being the member for Menzies means something.' Margie Andrews said that to me one week before Kevin died. We were at the Veneto Club, in Bulleen. They were celebrating their 51st anniversary. Kevin was with Margie. He was frail but fully present. Margie asked me to be with him as he worked the room one last time. As we moved from table to table, people shared stories. He smiled and he listened. They were happy to see him, and he was happy to be there—as he must have done so many times as their MP. There was a moment, Margie, where it was just us—and I'm grateful I got to tell him this. Kevin, I think of you often, especially in this place—at an adjournment speech; at my desk alone late at night; in the party room, nervous to stand; or as I walk along corridors. Everything I do for the first time, he did many times. I want you to know I admire you more than you know. Being the member for Menzies doesn't just mean something because it is named after a giant; it means something because its longest-serving member was a giant, a gentle one. You have heard of Kevin's conviction and courage, but two other markers stand out. The first was his funeral at Saint Patrick's Cathedral two days before Christmas. At the front were his greatest legacy—you, his family. At the conclusion of the mass, we turned and we followed you down the aisle. As I walked to down the packed cathedral, to the left and right, I saw people from the community of Menzies—party members, teachers, shopkeepers, volunteers, neighbours and friends. They had turned up en masse to honour the person who had served them for so long. They were grieving but they were grateful. The mark of the man was the community that he served. The second mark I want to take you to is back to the Veneto club. The band was playing vintage Italian music. They were playing love songs. Margie, you and Kevin went to the dance floor. You held each other and danced like it was your first date. You didn't see it, Margie, but his face was beaming, his eyes were closed, he was content, and he was gently holding you. The mark of the man was the love of you, his wife. Vale Kevin Andrews. You were a parliamentarian and a patriot but, most of all, you loved and you were loved. May he rest in peace. The SPEAKER: As a mark of respect to the memory of the Hon. Kevin James Andrews, I ask all present to rise in their places. Honourable members having stood in their places— The SPEAKER: I thank the House.