As many of you may know, my father died on the 28th of April. I thought it appropriate to put up here the words I used for him at the funeral.. It had been written complete with pauses, I have edited out some of the anotation to make it read a bit better.
My father, known to most of you as George, was a remarkable man.
Unconventional…. maybe even eccentric.
He had a kind word and a cheery quip for everyone.
If you met him in the street, after a word from George, you would walk with more cheer.
The encyclopaedic knowledge and humorous slant on current / local news / enthralled everyone he met.
He treated everyone as an equal yet had little regard for hypocrisy.
Some authority figures suffered the wrath of his tongue when they did not perform as he thought fit.
There was honesty and integrity to the man.
When asked if he was a regular church goer, he would joke “I go to the Kirk every Sunday….. Laurence-Kirk for a pint”
George had all the qualities of a true Christian, for him, love was action not empty words. He would always do things for others… without regard for himself
His window cleaning made him a highly visible figure in the town.
The round should probably have taken a couple of hours at most….. yet the time spent yapping to everyone, kept him out all day.
Amongst his regular windows, was the Red Cross shop.
George made no charge for cleaning their windows, often going in to buy yet another Haynes manual.
After 14 years, The Red Cross presented George with a certificate of recognition for this voluntary work.
George was a perfectionist with his window cleaning.
It wouldn’t be uncommon to see him cleaning the same shop several times in one week.
As a child, I was always getting footballs and tennis balls stuck on the high roof - of the building - that had been the picture house, my father was always there to get them down.
One day, he decided it was time for me to go up the ladder.
With his encouragement, I overcame any fears.
“After all….. the ground will aye break your fall”
Of course…. one obvious father to son thing he couldn’t do for me…. was teaching me how to shave. Instead preferring to deliver another of his regular jokes.
“I’m employed by Gillette, They show a photo of me and say, Buy our razors or you’ll look like this”
During his recent illness… his sense of humour remained as strong as it had ever been.
The medical staff told… of how they were drawn to George because of this… and because of his undemanding gentle nature.
One of my earliest memories….. is of my dad coming home during the snow and taking off his wellington boots.
The soles had a triangle shape… and I was fascinated by these little triangles of snow that came off. He went back outside to pick up more snow on the boots… so I could play with it.
That snow has melted but my memory remains strong.
We all have our own memories of George..
Each one will remain strong as a lasting tribute.
