It was my mum's funeral yesterday. I read out a eulogy during the service which took me about 97 hours to write and which took around 7 minutes to read out. On the whole I thought it was pretty good, but my brother had done his just before me, and I thought his was better.
I've always been proud of my brother, and in many ways I wish I was more like him, but I've never been more proud of him than I have in the last two weeks since mum died. The way he's helped me to organise the funeral arrangements without any fuss, and always with a sense of perspective but also a sense of fun.
But if there's ever been a high point in terms of how proud I feel of him it was during that 7-10 minutes yesterday when he spoke about my mum at her funeral. I don't think it's even possible to describe how proud I was seeing him do what he did. And it wasn't just hearing him speak, it was the words too.
He's given me permission to guest publish his words on here, because I thought they were so good that other people should be able to read them. Anyway, this is what he said. It won't be as good written down, but it's good enough.
Early Memories of Mum
Being mum's shopping partner and helping her make decisions (something she was terrible at).
Sometimes on Garforth Main Street, sometimes Leeds.
I must of spent at least a complete month of my life in the two chemists on Main Street looking and helping to choose hair dyes - I could tell you the exact location and layout of these sections of both shops and the little loops of hair that I'd run my finger back and forth along for what seemed like an eternity.
'I liked this one but I thought it was Auburn but it says it's chestnut and I don't want chestnut'.
So I'd find one 'This one's Auburn'
'No I don't like that'
'Which of these two ash blondes is the most ash blonde?'
I should of said 'Mum, I'm 6 I have no idea what that even means' but I remained patient in the hope she'd take me to Sparks Hardware shop and buy me a screw driver.
Mum's bag was always full of bits of wallpaper, fabric, cushion covers, curtains, tiles, flooring, bits of wood...whatever she was trying to match at the time for the latest decorating project.
'Does this go with this, do these match, which of these nets do you like the best?' I'd often pick wrong and she'd say 'I don't think I like that one' and we'd have to start over.
The reward would always be some low end cafe like the 4 Cousins or Athena, endlessly being told not to drink all my milkshake before my food arrived, which I invariably did.
I loved to hold her hand inside her jacket especially the fun furs she had.
We rarely disagreed on anything but by the time I'd reached Junior School the clothes I'd wear were certainly one thing - she eventually caught me hiding clothes in my bag so I could change into them when I got to school. I know it upset her at the time and I felt terrible about hurting her feelings but it was hardly surprising that her son had become as impossible to buy clothes for as her.
We certainly never disagreed about her clothes or how she looked - she had such style always on a very low budget but never cheap she always looked great especially in her 50s and 60s and dare I say 70s. In the last photos she was in at the recent family reunion she looked absolutely amazing.
Teenage Years and Terry
Everyone thinks it was so tragic that period of her life because it ended quite unpleasantly.
The stories we'd tell each other from that period were always filled with laughter.
The way he would sound like he was dying when asked what he wanted from the fish shop - 'I'll just have half a fish'.
His food never being hot enough and him microwaving it to death - her shouting 'Terry, you're going to crucify it!'.
Him calling her petal even when she was super mad with him.
When he was clearly starting to lose it and he put a block of frozen peas in the deep fat fryer and he couldn't work out how they had disappeared from the basket.
Towards the end of those days when she took him out for his birthday and he tripped and ended up rolling down a hill near the Old George - mum saying one minute he was there the next gone, I just heard him say 'Petal, me legs av gone'.
Later life
After me and Jonathan had left home and moved away we sometimes didn't see each other for months at a time and rarely until more recent times were the three of us together - we all had busy lives - but it didn't alter how close we were, she would always be my first call with any news, good or bad.
When we did catch up often it would be after a holiday. I loved to look at her photos, photos that have given us such tremendous comfort these last few weeks - I loved them because they were so often so bad, out of focus, people photographed when they weren't expecting it, heads chopped off, people not exactly looking at their best sometimes, but always loads with people laughing - she always made new friends on holiday and she was always blessed to have good friends to go away with over the years.
I know coming to Greece where me and Liz got married was huge for her, being included and getting to know our friends made it extra special, especially Brucie who was like a third son fussing around her and making her laugh so much.
I guess the next big event is the hardest for me to share with you - just saying the word Grandma - take a breath.
Before she became too ill she used to look after him once a week - Jack could get her to do anything, he'd get her to look for things under the sofa even though she knew she'd struggle to get back up, he even got her to open the ultra messy moon clay that we'd banned him from opening - they both ended up completely covered.
I honestly believe that without him she couldn't of come through some of her illnesses - she lit up as soon as he walked in the room.
Not being able to watch him grow up and talk to her about him will be the hardest part for me but I cherish the memories of them together and their last phone call could not of been more perfect. Jack said 'I love you' and she said 'I love you back' and Jack ended it by saying 'You're my sweetheart'. I'd like to think those words and his little smiling face were what she thought of as she departed.
Illness
No doubt she was hounded with illness in her final years but we were still able to find laughter no matter how dark the subject.
We all three of us made fun of the cancer / stroke / knees etc.
Death
What today would be like
Who would come and what would they wear
What possessions we would be having off her.
She even told a great story about how she had slipped over outside when we had the last really heavy snow and how because she couldn't bend her knees she was like a big tortoise on its back trapped in the snow and how she'd laid there for a bit imagining the news headline of being found dead outside just feet from home - but having not done her hair and make up found the strength to drag herself back indoors.
She went as she would of wanted - on great form, in high spirits, looking good, enjoying life and able to spend time with friends and family - if living longer would of meant going back to those darker times none of us would of wanted that.
Finally throughout my life the overwhelming feeling of being loved and cared for and her caring about anything and anyone that was important to me. We always hugged and we were never embarrassed to say I love you. I still feel her love every bit as much even though she has passed and I know I always will. Love you Mum.
There's really nothing I need to add. I was really pleased yesterday that I got the chance to share my own memories of mum, but a concern during this week was that we might be squashed for time as the crematorium services are by nature quite short, and between us we knew we could only speak for a maximum of around 15 minutes. At one point during the week, when Phil read me a draft of what he was going to say, I told him he could have the whole 15 minutes if he wanted. I was so impressed with what he said, that if only he had spoken on behalf of the two of us, it would have been enough. But in the event we shared the time out 50 / 50 and I think that's right. Above all, we wanted to do justice to our mum through our words and I think we did. Funerals are strange because you can't rehearse them, and you can't go back and do them again if you foul them up. You get one chance and one chance only, and so you have to feel at the end of them that you've done your very best for the person who you're saying goodbye to. And knowing that we managed to do that between us is a huge weight off our shoulders. Anything less really wouldn't have been good enough.
Another quick point is that we had to sack the guy who we'd initially asked to conduct the service for us with less than 48 hours to go before the funeral because separately Phil and I were absolutely appalled at what he'd written about mum. He'd shown absolutely no understanding of the message we were trying to get across, and it would have been a travesty to let him anywhere near the service after that. By some fluke or miracle or act of grace we managed to get Rev. Joanna Seabourne to do the service for us at the last minute, and she did it exactly as we wanted, and much more in keeping with the spirit of mum. And we're incredibly grateful to her for stepping in, and dragging us back from the brink of disaster at the 11th hour. Thank you Joanna.
I've always been proud of my brother, and in many ways I wish I was more like him, but I've never been more proud of him than I have in the last two weeks since mum died. The way he's helped me to organise the funeral arrangements without any fuss, and always with a sense of perspective but also a sense of fun.
But if there's ever been a high point in terms of how proud I feel of him it was during that 7-10 minutes yesterday when he spoke about my mum at her funeral. I don't think it's even possible to describe how proud I was seeing him do what he did. And it wasn't just hearing him speak, it was the words too.
He's given me permission to guest publish his words on here, because I thought they were so good that other people should be able to read them. Anyway, this is what he said. It won't be as good written down, but it's good enough.
Early Memories of Mum
Being mum's shopping partner and helping her make decisions (something she was terrible at).
Sometimes on Garforth Main Street, sometimes Leeds.
I must of spent at least a complete month of my life in the two chemists on Main Street looking and helping to choose hair dyes - I could tell you the exact location and layout of these sections of both shops and the little loops of hair that I'd run my finger back and forth along for what seemed like an eternity.
'I liked this one but I thought it was Auburn but it says it's chestnut and I don't want chestnut'.
So I'd find one 'This one's Auburn'
'No I don't like that'
'Which of these two ash blondes is the most ash blonde?'
I should of said 'Mum, I'm 6 I have no idea what that even means' but I remained patient in the hope she'd take me to Sparks Hardware shop and buy me a screw driver.
Mum's bag was always full of bits of wallpaper, fabric, cushion covers, curtains, tiles, flooring, bits of wood...whatever she was trying to match at the time for the latest decorating project.
'Does this go with this, do these match, which of these nets do you like the best?' I'd often pick wrong and she'd say 'I don't think I like that one' and we'd have to start over.
The reward would always be some low end cafe like the 4 Cousins or Athena, endlessly being told not to drink all my milkshake before my food arrived, which I invariably did.
I loved to hold her hand inside her jacket especially the fun furs she had.
We rarely disagreed on anything but by the time I'd reached Junior School the clothes I'd wear were certainly one thing - she eventually caught me hiding clothes in my bag so I could change into them when I got to school. I know it upset her at the time and I felt terrible about hurting her feelings but it was hardly surprising that her son had become as impossible to buy clothes for as her.
We certainly never disagreed about her clothes or how she looked - she had such style always on a very low budget but never cheap she always looked great especially in her 50s and 60s and dare I say 70s. In the last photos she was in at the recent family reunion she looked absolutely amazing.
Teenage Years and Terry
Everyone thinks it was so tragic that period of her life because it ended quite unpleasantly.
The stories we'd tell each other from that period were always filled with laughter.
The way he would sound like he was dying when asked what he wanted from the fish shop - 'I'll just have half a fish'.
His food never being hot enough and him microwaving it to death - her shouting 'Terry, you're going to crucify it!'.
Him calling her petal even when she was super mad with him.
When he was clearly starting to lose it and he put a block of frozen peas in the deep fat fryer and he couldn't work out how they had disappeared from the basket.
Towards the end of those days when she took him out for his birthday and he tripped and ended up rolling down a hill near the Old George - mum saying one minute he was there the next gone, I just heard him say 'Petal, me legs av gone'.
Later life
After me and Jonathan had left home and moved away we sometimes didn't see each other for months at a time and rarely until more recent times were the three of us together - we all had busy lives - but it didn't alter how close we were, she would always be my first call with any news, good or bad.
When we did catch up often it would be after a holiday. I loved to look at her photos, photos that have given us such tremendous comfort these last few weeks - I loved them because they were so often so bad, out of focus, people photographed when they weren't expecting it, heads chopped off, people not exactly looking at their best sometimes, but always loads with people laughing - she always made new friends on holiday and she was always blessed to have good friends to go away with over the years.
I know coming to Greece where me and Liz got married was huge for her, being included and getting to know our friends made it extra special, especially Brucie who was like a third son fussing around her and making her laugh so much.
I guess the next big event is the hardest for me to share with you - just saying the word Grandma - take a breath.
Before she became too ill she used to look after him once a week - Jack could get her to do anything, he'd get her to look for things under the sofa even though she knew she'd struggle to get back up, he even got her to open the ultra messy moon clay that we'd banned him from opening - they both ended up completely covered.
I honestly believe that without him she couldn't of come through some of her illnesses - she lit up as soon as he walked in the room.
Not being able to watch him grow up and talk to her about him will be the hardest part for me but I cherish the memories of them together and their last phone call could not of been more perfect. Jack said 'I love you' and she said 'I love you back' and Jack ended it by saying 'You're my sweetheart'. I'd like to think those words and his little smiling face were what she thought of as she departed.
Illness
No doubt she was hounded with illness in her final years but we were still able to find laughter no matter how dark the subject.
We all three of us made fun of the cancer / stroke / knees etc.
Death
What today would be like
Who would come and what would they wear
What possessions we would be having off her.
She even told a great story about how she had slipped over outside when we had the last really heavy snow and how because she couldn't bend her knees she was like a big tortoise on its back trapped in the snow and how she'd laid there for a bit imagining the news headline of being found dead outside just feet from home - but having not done her hair and make up found the strength to drag herself back indoors.
She went as she would of wanted - on great form, in high spirits, looking good, enjoying life and able to spend time with friends and family - if living longer would of meant going back to those darker times none of us would of wanted that.
Finally throughout my life the overwhelming feeling of being loved and cared for and her caring about anything and anyone that was important to me. We always hugged and we were never embarrassed to say I love you. I still feel her love every bit as much even though she has passed and I know I always will. Love you Mum.
There's really nothing I need to add. I was really pleased yesterday that I got the chance to share my own memories of mum, but a concern during this week was that we might be squashed for time as the crematorium services are by nature quite short, and between us we knew we could only speak for a maximum of around 15 minutes. At one point during the week, when Phil read me a draft of what he was going to say, I told him he could have the whole 15 minutes if he wanted. I was so impressed with what he said, that if only he had spoken on behalf of the two of us, it would have been enough. But in the event we shared the time out 50 / 50 and I think that's right. Above all, we wanted to do justice to our mum through our words and I think we did. Funerals are strange because you can't rehearse them, and you can't go back and do them again if you foul them up. You get one chance and one chance only, and so you have to feel at the end of them that you've done your very best for the person who you're saying goodbye to. And knowing that we managed to do that between us is a huge weight off our shoulders. Anything less really wouldn't have been good enough.
Another quick point is that we had to sack the guy who we'd initially asked to conduct the service for us with less than 48 hours to go before the funeral because separately Phil and I were absolutely appalled at what he'd written about mum. He'd shown absolutely no understanding of the message we were trying to get across, and it would have been a travesty to let him anywhere near the service after that. By some fluke or miracle or act of grace we managed to get Rev. Joanna Seabourne to do the service for us at the last minute, and she did it exactly as we wanted, and much more in keeping with the spirit of mum. And we're incredibly grateful to her for stepping in, and dragging us back from the brink of disaster at the 11th hour. Thank you Joanna.
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