A reluctant human face of the Christchurch earthquake was honoured with the dignified farewell he would have desired as loved ones today filled tiny St Paul's on the Hill overlooking Kaikoura Bay to remember Shane Tomlin.
Mr Tomlin's dust-blackened profile was captured on film moments after he was extricated from the Trocadero Bakery in the city's Cashel Mall.
His image was transmitted around the globe soon after the 6.3-magnitude quake struck -- a disaster the 42-year-old pastry chef had eerily forewarned a colleague about when arriving at work that morning.
Photographed being comforted by two passersby after being freed from the rubble, Mr Tomlin and his rescuers personified the horrors Cantabrians experienced that Tuesday lunchtime - and cruelly gave his parents Doreen and Bernie false hope he had survived.
Sadly five fraught days later, having failed to find any trace of the boy they adopted as a two-week old, the couple were advised by police Shane had died of his injuries in Christchurch Hospital and to prepare for a funeral
That poignant, understated service was conducted in the quaint wooden chapel whose grounds afford spectacular views of the Kaikoura peninsula - the seaside town 180km north of Christchurch where Mr Tomlin grew up with his younger sisters, Judith, Raelene and Karen.
Judith McLaughlin shared her recollections of a quiet, reserved big brother who had appreciated solitude since those early family vacations in the Marlborough Sounds.
"Shane had his own pup tent when we went camping, he always valued his space.
"I think with three sisters who were constantly busy and noisy, with his quiet nature he chose to be his own person," she said.
It was a character trait Mr Tomlin maintained when he cut the apron strings in Kaikoura after the fifth form to develop his love of cooking in Christchurch.
Employees at the Trocadero, where Mr Tomlin spent more than eight years, described a diligent co-worker who was enjoyable company once they broke through his natural reticence.
"We slowly started to talk and we ended up great chats about your wonderful vegetable garden," said Bevvy, in a message read to a congregation that overflowed on to the church's forecourt.
She also revealed Mr Tomlin's premonition, and how they had discussed where to take cover.
"You told me there would be a quake that day because you said there had been a big one in Argentina and the whales had recently beached.
"I know we joked about which bench we would shelter under if there was a big one."
"But," she regretted, "we didn't get the chance" before reflecting on her good fortune.
"If I had not insisted on doing those bloody green lamingtons I would have been in the bakehouse with you guys...farewell my dear friend."
The meticulous vegetable plot in his backyard near the banks of the Avon River was Mr Tomlin's pride and joy, likewise Mr Turtle, the reptile he doted on.
Illustrations of both featured on the service sheet while it was left to Melanie, his former partner of 4-1/2 years, to offer a glimpse of Mr Tomlin's rarely-documented emotional side.
"He had a lot of love in his heart to give but I think sometimes he held it in rather than give it out," she said before reading one of his poems, a window to his soul:
"Why now do I feel so cold? Why now?
"I wish I could grab the sun's warmth one more time to grow, to feel, to understand, to learn.
"The end of the body is near, no pain to fear."
