Zoe McKenzie (Flinders, Liberal Party, Shadow Assistant Minister for Mental Health) Share this | Hansard source

Today it is the grievance debate, and it occurs to me that I rose here exactly 12 months ago and took some creative licence with the inherent grief in the word 'grievance'. I spoke of the loss of my mum, Ann Shanahan, who had passed that summer, a few weeks before we returned. Today I rise for a similar contribution—not for my actual mum but for my House mum, Ljupco Jonceski, or as all of us know him here in this place our beloved Luch. Luch was this place. With each turn of the cheek and each turn of the head and every time I look up in the chamber, I'll be looking for Luch, as I know so many of us do. I also know that in this place tomorrow there will be a structured moment for all of us to make our reflections about him. But I am gluttonous for my Luch. After all, he was gluttonous for me. Every day he would leave a small envelope of chocolates in my desk wrapped with my name on the outside. And so it is with Luch's gorgeous gluttony as my guiding spirit that I will use this longer opportunity to talk about my friend. Thank you.

Luch came to this place more than 40 years ago. He was one of many who helped actually build this building with his bare hands. He worked in new Parliament House as a labourer and then he became an attendant. But he wasn't just any attendant; he was the attendant—the attendant of all attendants, the big cheese, the man who got to meet Barack Obama, the Speaker's right hand. But, to me, he was my chamber mum.

When I first got elected, I arrived here somewhat short of breath, even though so much of it was already so very familiar to me. After all, I had roamed these corridors as a 25-year-old working for the Attorney-General on all things constitutional law, criminal law reform, marriage law and even the republic referendum. It was so long ago, and Luch was already here doing his thing. And then I came back as a 40-year-old, as the trade minister's right hand, doing trade deals with China, Japan, South Korea, the Trans-Pacific Partnership, Indonesia, India, the EU. And Luch was here doing his thing. When I came back as an elected representative four years ago, Luch was still here doing his thing, together with Barry in Security and little Dom at Aussie's. They were the first people I spotted, and their presence settled my soul. My closest friends from the parliamentary ranks had long left this building by the time I was elected, off to London, New York and Paris to serve the global good, but Luch was still here with a big bear hug and a hearty welcome back as though I'd never left.

Luch cared for the parliament and parliamentarians like we were his family. Each day, somehow, he would find a way to come across my path in the chamber. But I would often duck into the attendants' room, where Luch had a small fridge filled with chocolates, which apparently no-one but him was ever allowed to touch. Sometimes, in the lobbies or in the members' lounge, I would find Luch washing glasses or organising the assortment of teabags. There was no rushing past Luch. I'm so very glad that, each and every time I saw him, I'd stop for a bit of a natter. In the last term of parliament, he would always ask me about my mum's health and how she was going with her chemotherapy and her immunotherapy. Luch somehow knew mum was all I had. And I would ask him about his morale, about his family, about his Christmas, about his kids, about his fishing, about his adventures. There would often be a giggle. There would always be a photo. Luch loved a photo. He would say, 'Let's get a photo!'

Jess, his daughter, is also part of this building's fabric. Jess worked here too. She was on the secretariat for the Parliamentary Joint Committee for Intelligence and Security when I served on it, and Luch was so proud of her. But, for me, the story about Luch and Jess was indeed the story of Australia—that Luch could come here as a child and spend a life of service, first building and then tending to democracy at its fulcrum, while his daughter contributes to our defence and security at the highest possible level. Some time ago I asked the Speaker if we could tell the stories of the multigenerational families who form the bricks and mortar of the Australian democracy and spirit in the parliament—a small documentary to go in the theatrette upstairs. I now wish I had been so much more insistent.

All of us here know what Luch means to this place. I have been bowled over by the number of people here, not just Luch's fellow attendants but the clerks, the team from the Serjeant-at-Arms' office, the security guards, the committee secretariats, fellow MPs and their staff, former MPs and their staff and former speakers who have come up to me reading the words I had written about Luch on Facebook when I learned of his passing and who all want to express their love for him. It even happened earlier today. What I could not have expected was the impact Luch had on the outside world.

When I put up that post on Facebook on 2 January, I thought just my friends and colleagues—the people who know me—would read it, remember him and send a note to his family. What I didn't see was that Luch's final gift to democracy would be going viral on the internet. You see, Luch broke Facebook— 278,000 people read my post about him, 2,500 loved it and 200 people made comments on it. But that wasn't the best bit. The best bit was that people just understood Luch. People like Carolyn Sheetz and Ant Lewis, who had worked with Luch in the eighties, made a comment. Jo Ward, who went to high school with Luch, made a comment. People who had noticed him while watching the House on telly, just during question time, like Ray Cook, Jo Dewhirst and John Bourke, all chimed in. Former parliamentarians like Bob Baldwin remembered his love of fishing, and my constituent Gerard Weibrecht compared Luch to Andre the Giant in The Princess Bride. I literally have no idea what that means, but it sounds about right.

Then there were those people who Luch had never met. Jim Catchpole wrote:

People like that are what makes Australia awesome. He obviously felt connected to something important and made doing it well a key part of his life.

Mary-Anne Rapkin wrote:

Everyone needs a Luch in their workplace.

And Christine Kendrick wrote:

What a lovely post for a special person who none of us regular punters knew, but how nice to know there really are people of kindness employed in the Houses of Parliament and who actually keep the wheels turning without egos, Rest in peace to this very special man.

Vicki Jones said:

What a beautiful soul Luch must have been, Canberra was lucky to have him, and his daughter.

Nick Woo wrote:

Thank you for acknowledging his contribution to the Australian community at large through his quiet dedication, presence and love for the country. In a world that is full of uncertainty, it is clear we need more people like him. Condolences to his family and yourself for the loss of Luch. May he rest gently and his memory serve as a reminder that kindness is the greatest gift for humanity.

And here was a nice one from Andrew Jacobs:

This personalises parliament, which often enough comes across like a bunch of overtired toddlers.

Fair enough. And then there's my favourite, from someone who didn't know him. Ciaran Crehan wrote of Luch's extensive service, grace and humanity, and concluded:

The human spirit lives on and thrives. Be like, Luch.

A few weeks ago, a number of us joined Luch's family and local community at the Macedonian Church in Queanbeyan. It was there that Luch saved the best for last. I didn't understand a word of it, of course, because it was all in Macedonian, but I didn't need to. It was there that I saw the magic of Luch writ large; love was central, the core of everything he did. The church was filled to the rafters—literally. There were people in the gallery under the ceiling, and tens more spilled out onto the street.

As I headed out there, my Comcar driver, Robert, asked why I was going to Queanbeyan. 'I'm off to Luch's funeral,' I said, and Robert was crestfallen. He hadn't heard, and he knew Luch well. 'He used to come to the airport on Sunday nights,' Robert told me. 'He was the only one who actually knew who you all were, and he'd spot you all as soon as you got off the plane. He was the best—the best we've ever had at that job.' Robert called Comcar and asked if they wouldn't mind if he didn't actually do his job for the next two hours, because Robert wanted to stay for Luch's funeral too. And so we stayed together—together with so many people who make up the patchwork of this amazing building and this amazing democracy and who wanted to be there to say their thanks and farewell to the great man, our friend Luch.

We are all better in this place because of our friend Luch. I am better in this place because of our friend Luch. I'm more grateful for life because of our friend Luch. My thoughts are with his wife, Mary, and his beautiful children, Jess, Rebecca and Joshua. Your dad lives on through you. His memory will live on long through this place. Whenever you see me look up in the chamber, open my drawer, walk through the members' lounge or lift a glass of water, please know your father is with me. Vale, Luch. You were one of the best.

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