TAYLOR Brenton James (Brent)

In the quiet of the garage,
where the laughter used to roll,
Where the beer lids fliked,
and the yarns ran long,
There’s a chair sitting empty now,
Yet it still holds the presence
Of a man who was stubborn, steady, and strong.

Brent Taylor.

Known by many names across the years.
Partner. Dad. Grandad. Great-Grandad. And friend.

To some, he was the one who grumbled when he smiled,
But it was the kind of smile you worked for,
And the kind you treasured once you earned it.

He loved to smoke.
He loved a beer.
He loved a day done right.

He loved a good yarn,
A loud laugh,
And company close by.

And he loved that Jag,
Polished and proud,
A bit of flash for such a bloke.

Through all of this,
right beside him, was Leonie.
Their love was never loud or showy.
It lived in the day-to-day.
Steady, familiar,
Found in shared routines and quiet care,
In the small things that mean everything.

And in that life they built,
Was Reuben. Their boy.
And they were proud of him,
In that same steady way.

We will miss that garage banter.
The music, the teasing,
The slow settling of the day.

We will miss the warmth beneath the gruff,
The love he did not speak,
But lived, In his own steady way.

We will find him in the simple things.
In the sound of a cap being cracked.
In a smoky laugh cutting through the quiet.
In every story that begins,
“Remember when Brent…?”

So here’s to Brent.
To Grumpy, with the heart of gold.
To the man who loved, who lived,
and who stayed true.

Rest easy now, mate.
Your chair is still there.
But you have earned your rest from this storm.

Deb Frewin.

Many memories made during our time with Treescape Brent- whether it was in the garage, on the line or in some obscure bar on the east or west coast.
Enjoy your time in the clouds mate