In Moura on September 19, silence fell over the Kianga Memorial Hall as families, friends and industry leaders gathered to honour miners who never returned home. The annual Miners Memorial Day Service gave voice to grief that runs deep through Queensland’s coal towns.
The day marked tragedies etched into mining history. Seventy-five men were killed at Mount Mulligan in 1921. Thirteen lives were lost at Kianga No.1 in 1975. Twelve men died at Moura No.4 in 1986. Together they are part of the toll of 1,510 people who have died in Queensland mines.
Resources Safety and Health Queensland CEO Robert Djukic told those gathered that the service was about more than remembrance.
“The service is a time to formally pause and honour the memory of all those who have lost their lives working in Queensland mines. Loss of life to mining accidents is unacceptable.”
He said the tragedies of the past must remain a warning for the future.
“Though decades have passed since these disasters, the impact remains. We must continue to remember them and the unacceptable cost of lives, if we are to avoid future disasters. We are committed to our goal of zero serious harm and will keep working with industry to prevent future tragedies.”
For many in the hall, the most powerful words came from guest speaker Angela Dixon. She recalled February 2019 when her friend’s husband, Brad Hardwick, was killed at Moranbah North.
“Brad was a father whose children would never again hear his footsteps at the door. A husband whose warmth and words of reassurance would never be felt by his wife again. A mate whose kindness and laughter was silenced forever,” Angela said.
Brad’s widow Lisa is still waiting for closure.
“I still can’t believe that there is no resolve and we are six and a half years on. It hurts like hell to not be able to live fully and move forward, but I try to keep pushing forward every day.”
Angela said grief in mining towns is never confined to one family.
“When people die in our industry, the pain pulsates through every single mining town, whether we were in Moranbah, Collinsville, Blackwater or here in Moura. The grief is collective, binding us together in ways that we never wanted to be bound.”
She spoke of her own family’s story. Growing up in Collinsville on a street named for a miner killed in the 1954 disaster, she later learned her father had been present when his schoolmate David Firth died in a roof collapse.
“The randomness of survival. The cruel lottery of who comes home and who doesn’t. That must haunt him to this day.”
Her mother recalled waiting at the mine gate with other wives, told only that someone had died but not who. Angela said, “Can you imagine that moment? The dread spreading through that group of women. Imagine praying that it wasn’t your husband, while knowing with crushing certainty that it must be someone’s.”
For Angela, breaking the silence of past generations is what makes services like Moura vital.
“Memorial services like this one help us to break that silence. Not just for those we have lost, but for those who are still carrying the weight of it. Today we speak the unspeakable.”
Her message to both workers and leaders was clear.
“Speaking up is hard, but it is not as hard as having to knock on the door to tell someone that their loved one is never coming home. We owe it to every name we speak today, and we owe it to every worker who will put on their boots tomorrow, hoping to come home safely to their family.”
The service at Moura was both a memorial and a call to action to carry the names of the fallen forward and to ensure their loss is never accepted as the price of coal.
