My Tribute to Dad, from yesterday's Funeral Service.
I think I speak for more than just myself when I say that, at first, none of us wants to turn into our parents. We spend so much time and effort trying to be different, but all of it is futile in the end. It is in our DNA to be like our parents - we could no more get away from that than our own shadows.
I am coming to embrace the ways in which I am like my father. In many ways some of the best parts of me are from him. Without Dad, I never would have got into reading. Without Dad, I would still be unable to iron a shirt or polish my shoes.
I used to think that the music Dad enjoyed just wasn’t cool. That the books he read and the films he watched would be of no interest to me. Now of course, I realise that I quite like his kind of music. That some of my favourite authors were inherited from him. Life plays cruel jokes sometimes.
As we heard from Derek earlier, Dad had a keen interest in the Scouts movement as a boy, together with his brothers. In fact, as he has told us all on occasion, he once impersonated another boy for a fortnight in order to attend Scout Camp. If that’s not being prepared, I don’t know what is. As Dad grew older, and after having won the Queen Scout Award, he eventually became an Assistant Scout Leader, and was keen for his sons to follow in his footsteps. Myself and Stuart both attended Cub Scouts, Scouts, and even Venture Scouts for a time. I think Stuart and I both thrived under the routine and customs of Scouts and gained a lot from joining, and though I eventually grew tired of camping and quit - I think I like my own bed too much - Stuart stayed on for quite awhile, eventually joining the army, which in some ways is a fitting step up. I think Dad appreciated us engaging in the same hobbies and activities as in his childhood; though by our day, there was rather less hunting and skinning of animals, and rather more games.
All of Mum and Dad’s children - myself, Lucy and Stuart - have all inherited traits and interests from Dad (and Mum, of course). Dad’s fascination for and love of history can be tracked directly to Lucy taking History as a degree at Swansea University. Stuart’s decision to take up a career in the Army when he left school can in some ways be traced back to Dad’s love of the military, in all it’s forms. Stuart took up playing rugby in no small part due to the enthusiasm that Dad showed for the sport. Dad could often be found on the sidelines, cheering his son on.
Most of all, Dad instilled in us a set of morals, of right and wrong, that guides us all today. I know Dad was incredibly proud of Lucy for her career in the Police Force, and of Stuart for the time he served in the Army. And I know that he was proud of me for the choices I have made in life. In a very real sense, what Dad leaves behind can be seen in Stuart, Lucy, and myself. He lives on in us.
As we stand here remembering Dad, I cannot help but think that he would have made a brilliant Granddad to my nephew, Alfie. He did make a fantastic grandparent for the time that he had with him before he passed away. It is, regardless of your belief, a true blessing that Dad lived long enough to meet the new generation. In an ideal world, Dad would have been around as a Granddad to Alfie for years to come - but this is not an ideal world. I am just so pleased that Dad got to meet him, even seeing Alfie on the last day of his life.
In the last few days alone, I have learned a lot about Dad that I never knew. His past as a vespa-driving Mod; his ambition, once, to join the RAF. My Mum and Dad’s honeymoon in Newquay. I know that as time goes on, all Dad’s children will learn more about him. It is a lost opportunity that I couldn’t have learned more of this while he was still with us. I’m sure we all wish that we could have spent more time together with Barry, but it is some consolation that the whole of his character will remain a mystery to us for awhile, to be uncovered over time.
Dad was the centre of our family, ever-present, friendly, easy-going - and funny. Some of our happiest memories are of laughing along with Dad or at something that Dad had said. If any good can come of his loss, it is perhaps that we can come even closer together as a result. In his absence, we need each other more than ever before.
It has been hard losing Dad, and coping over the last week or two, to make an obvious understatement. Yet I know that the harder part will be the weeks and months and years to come, living without him. But we can remember the happy times, keep Dad in our hearts, and minds, and conversations, and continue to toast and to reminisce the man who went through books like a knife through butter; the man who enjoyed winning games of history trivia against his daughter; the man who laughed in the face of cancer and of expectations, made it through another two Christmases, his 60th birthday, and the birth of his grandchild, rather than just giving up.
We know that Dad took pride in the three children he raised, and in the choices we made in our lives. Making Dad proud is not something that is stopped by his death. I speak for all three of us when I say that in decisions that we make in life, in striving for promotions at work, in our relationships and marriages at home, and in the way we come to raise our own children, in time, we will always be thinking of Dad, following by his example, and trying to make him proud.
We’ll miss you, Dad.
Thank-you.
I am coming to embrace the ways in which I am like my father. In many ways some of the best parts of me are from him. Without Dad, I never would have got into reading. Without Dad, I would still be unable to iron a shirt or polish my shoes.
I used to think that the music Dad enjoyed just wasn’t cool. That the books he read and the films he watched would be of no interest to me. Now of course, I realise that I quite like his kind of music. That some of my favourite authors were inherited from him. Life plays cruel jokes sometimes.
As we heard from Derek earlier, Dad had a keen interest in the Scouts movement as a boy, together with his brothers. In fact, as he has told us all on occasion, he once impersonated another boy for a fortnight in order to attend Scout Camp. If that’s not being prepared, I don’t know what is. As Dad grew older, and after having won the Queen Scout Award, he eventually became an Assistant Scout Leader, and was keen for his sons to follow in his footsteps. Myself and Stuart both attended Cub Scouts, Scouts, and even Venture Scouts for a time. I think Stuart and I both thrived under the routine and customs of Scouts and gained a lot from joining, and though I eventually grew tired of camping and quit - I think I like my own bed too much - Stuart stayed on for quite awhile, eventually joining the army, which in some ways is a fitting step up. I think Dad appreciated us engaging in the same hobbies and activities as in his childhood; though by our day, there was rather less hunting and skinning of animals, and rather more games.
All of Mum and Dad’s children - myself, Lucy and Stuart - have all inherited traits and interests from Dad (and Mum, of course). Dad’s fascination for and love of history can be tracked directly to Lucy taking History as a degree at Swansea University. Stuart’s decision to take up a career in the Army when he left school can in some ways be traced back to Dad’s love of the military, in all it’s forms. Stuart took up playing rugby in no small part due to the enthusiasm that Dad showed for the sport. Dad could often be found on the sidelines, cheering his son on.
Most of all, Dad instilled in us a set of morals, of right and wrong, that guides us all today. I know Dad was incredibly proud of Lucy for her career in the Police Force, and of Stuart for the time he served in the Army. And I know that he was proud of me for the choices I have made in life. In a very real sense, what Dad leaves behind can be seen in Stuart, Lucy, and myself. He lives on in us.
As we stand here remembering Dad, I cannot help but think that he would have made a brilliant Granddad to my nephew, Alfie. He did make a fantastic grandparent for the time that he had with him before he passed away. It is, regardless of your belief, a true blessing that Dad lived long enough to meet the new generation. In an ideal world, Dad would have been around as a Granddad to Alfie for years to come - but this is not an ideal world. I am just so pleased that Dad got to meet him, even seeing Alfie on the last day of his life.
In the last few days alone, I have learned a lot about Dad that I never knew. His past as a vespa-driving Mod; his ambition, once, to join the RAF. My Mum and Dad’s honeymoon in Newquay. I know that as time goes on, all Dad’s children will learn more about him. It is a lost opportunity that I couldn’t have learned more of this while he was still with us. I’m sure we all wish that we could have spent more time together with Barry, but it is some consolation that the whole of his character will remain a mystery to us for awhile, to be uncovered over time.
Dad was the centre of our family, ever-present, friendly, easy-going - and funny. Some of our happiest memories are of laughing along with Dad or at something that Dad had said. If any good can come of his loss, it is perhaps that we can come even closer together as a result. In his absence, we need each other more than ever before.
It has been hard losing Dad, and coping over the last week or two, to make an obvious understatement. Yet I know that the harder part will be the weeks and months and years to come, living without him. But we can remember the happy times, keep Dad in our hearts, and minds, and conversations, and continue to toast and to reminisce the man who went through books like a knife through butter; the man who enjoyed winning games of history trivia against his daughter; the man who laughed in the face of cancer and of expectations, made it through another two Christmases, his 60th birthday, and the birth of his grandchild, rather than just giving up.
We know that Dad took pride in the three children he raised, and in the choices we made in our lives. Making Dad proud is not something that is stopped by his death. I speak for all three of us when I say that in decisions that we make in life, in striving for promotions at work, in our relationships and marriages at home, and in the way we come to raise our own children, in time, we will always be thinking of Dad, following by his example, and trying to make him proud.
We’ll miss you, Dad.
Thank-you.