I've been wrestling with whether to share this story. It's personal, raw, and still very fresh. But in the spirit of Ros, a woman who taught me to "Just f%@# do it - if it feels right, do it," I've decided to share. Last week, we lost Ros. Despite the pain of her passing, her spirit and lessons remain with us.

Ros was a beacon of light in our community. Despite experiencing homelessness, she dedicated her life to helping others. I had the privilege of spending a significant amount of time with Ros, documenting her story for a campaign with Orange Sky. But our connection didn't end there. Ros stayed involved, speaking at events, giving interviews, and continuing to advocate for those less fortunate.

One indelible memory that will forever remain with me is of the times I would take one of my daughters to buy flowers from Ros. It was more than a social visit; it was an opportunity for my daughter to meet a brave woman who embodied resilience, passion, and the human spirit. These visits opened up conversations about homelessness, resilience, and the power of compassion. After Ros's funeral, being able to discuss her life and legacy with my daughter was profoundly moving. I am grateful to Ros and the people in her life for gifting us these special moments and a story that my daughter can carry with her throughout her life.

Ros's funeral was a testament to her impact. Hundreds attended, from those in homelessness services to local community businesses, and even those who were, like her, doing it tough. As I sat there, watching photos I had taken of her flash across the screen, accompanied by a hauntingly beautiful melody, I felt a profound sense of gratitude. I had been given the opportunity to experience Ros's energy, her passion, and her unwavering dedication to helping others without expecting anything in return.

Ros was a fighter. She stood up for her friends, penned letters advocating for change, and faced the repercussions of her actions with courage. She lived her life the best way she knew how, even when it meant facing fines and backlash.

Her voice, often discounted due to her history and rebellious spirit, cut through the noise. It reached higher levels, demanding attention and change. But was it respected enough? Was it heard by those who could enact the change she so passionately fought for?

Losing Ros has left me in a state of introspection. I'm grappling with my role in social and systemic change. I feel a mix of confusion and anger, but also a deep sense of purpose. Ros's spirit has left an indelible mark on me. It's not just about the story we told for a campaign, but the lessons I learned from her about sacrifice, about fighting for what you believe in, and about the true cost of change.

So, I ask you, what does it mean to have people like Ros supporting better decisions? How can we ensure their voices are not just heard, but acted upon? As I navigate this journey, I am reminded of Ros's resilience. Her story serves as a stark reminder that we must continue to fight, to listen, and to amplify the voices of those who are often overlooked. Because in their stories, we find the raw, beautiful truth of humanity.

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