My dad
My dad died on Monday 14th January 2008. He was buried on Thursday 24th January 2008. This is what I read out at his funeral.
My dad was a great dad. He was what I call a “real” dad. I can remember asking for a bit of advice about the telly Arial at my house – we’ve got two and I didn’t know which one the telly should connect to – my dad came round, took one look and said “It’s that one” – I had my doubts, so I checked and he was right. It is the same with things like measurements of bits of wood. I’d be there armed with tape measures and rulers and what-not – my dad would walk in and say “That’s 26 by 8” and he’d be right.
That’s not to say he didn’t ever get it wrong. I remember when Sam was born we had this disagreement about how big Sam was. I told dad the length in centimetres which he mentally converted to inches and then had Sam at about 4 foot long.
I think it is something that happens to men when they become dads that they can just know stuff like that – it hasn’t happened to me yet but to be honest I think Mark got the lion’s share of those genes. I think Dad loved the fact that Mark was handy like him – I know he really enjoyed going over and helping Mark out with his house – even when he wasn’t feeling 100%, he still loved going and directing Mark on what to do.
My dad had two over-riding characteristics other than his sense of humour. He loved his family very much; especially my mum and he had a strong sense of wrong and right. He would often get annoyed or upset by things he saw on the telly. I can remember him watching the miners coming back in from the strike in 1985 and it affected him a lot. It is something that both Mark and I have inherited in spades. It isn’t necessarily to do with right and wrong but it is more of a moral thing.
The other thing I wanted to say was about my dads love for his family. That, more than anything, defines who he was. He loved my mum more than anything in the world. He loved me and Mark the same – he never judged us or complained – all he wanted was to see us happy. In that respect, he wasn’t a great man or anything amazingly special – but he always made us feel special.
He wasn’t averse to learning new skills either – when Mark went to
Having said how much dad loved us, I should say something about Sam and Thomas, my two children. Dad REALLY loved them. Some of the best times I had when Sam was a baby were when I was working shifts and would go round on my days off in the week with Sam to see my dad. We didn’t do anything amazing, just shopping or going to the park but they were happy days.
I think that the thing I owe dad a tonne of gratitude for is how he taught me to be a dad myself. He never sat me down and told me how to do it – it is something I learnt from him and how he was with us when we were growing up. I’m not trying to say that I try and measure up to him (mainly cos I don’t think I can) but I do try and be as good a dad as he was to us. I think he taught me that work and things like that aren’t important in the grand scheme of things – all that matters is your family.
Sam and Thomas will be at the George later – one thing you need to know is that they never called him grand-dad. When Sam was learning to talk my dad thought it was funny to teach him to call him by his name so.. he always called him Michael – that name stuck for Thomas as well. Im sure that Ruby will know him by that name too.
I said earlier that my dad was a caring man – not just about us, his family, but about everyone really. It sounds daft, but I can even remember him getting all bothered when we watched toy-story with Sam. Even though it is a cartoon, he was going on about Buzz Lightyear and how he must have felt finding out that he wasn’t real. It sounds daft now but it tells you something about my dad.
Later on today, we will be at the George in Glossop as I said. It would be nice if you could come along and swap stories about my dad and try to have a laugh. Not just to try and cheer mum up but because it is what my dad would have wanted.
I want to end by reading a couple of poems. The first one is about becoming a dad and how that changes you – I’m reading this because my dad really liked it – we found a copy of it squirreled away in his box of stuff.
just a father
I used to dream of dragons
Wrote poems on the sun
Now I am just a Father
And you are just my son.
Take away my doubts Son
Be unto me a shield
Protect me as I cover you
And teach me when to yield
I used to harbour visions
Ambitious to the cause
Now I am a Father
And the world can see my flaws.
You are the thief of my ambition
I am the holder of your dream
I am content to watch you grow
I have lost the need to scheme.
I used to dream of grandeur
I thought each day of fame
Now I want the simpler things
For you to call my name.
The dragons and the sunshine
That lived inside my head
Now dance inside your heart and eyes
They live with you instead.
Lastly, I want to read this poem – mainly because it was one of my dads favourites but also because I think it describes him far better than I ever could.
ABU BEN ADAM.
Abou ben Adam (may his tribe increase!)
awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight of his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
an angel, writing in a book of of gold.
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adam bold,
And to the Prescence in the room he said:“What writest thou?”
The vision raised its head,And, with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.”
“And is mine one?”said Abou,
“Nay, not so,”Replied the angel.
Abou spoke more low,But cheerily still, and said,
“I pray thee, then,
Write me as one who loves his fellow men.”
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again, with a great awakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben adam’s name led all the rest.
I did say earlier, that my dad had a great sense of humour and was always smiling. If you’ve not seen the show, you won’t know what I am on about but:
On that bombshell, knowing me, Liz, mark, Chris, Amanda, Holly, Sam and Tom, knowing you Michael Hilary Doyle. Ah-hah.
