I never knew anyone finer than Mira.
She was one in a million.
The best.

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I’m not thinking just of her work, her painting, her writing, her films, though the films compelling to watch, strongly constructed, skilfully realised, in my view enhanced our understanding of the world. I am thinking just of her, of how she seemed, of who she was; strong, brave, determined, self-confidant, clear in her mind of what she was doing, honest through and through.

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You knew you could trust her with your life.

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It was always a joy to be with her. There was an anger in her when I knew her first. She felt she was denied the opportunities she deserved, that people didn’t recognise what she could do. But when she got a chance, she showed them. She made the films she wanted to make, exactly as she intended them to be. They will be her memorial.

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Then there was a serenity in her; she knew who she was, and what she had accomplished. I had no idea until the other day of how old she was. I never thought of her as old, always as young, young because she kept working, kept her mind active, always eager to impart thoughts, always curious to learn and always there was a warmth about her, a smile in her eyes, and in her voice.

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She stood upright, proud of her womanhood, proud of her Jewishness, proud of her family, proud of herself, she kept her head high.

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Mira, we are proud, fortunate, happy to have known you. You lit up all our lives. We shall not forget.