This is the hardest thing I've ever had to write and not just because I have to be standing here in front of all of you talking about my mother in the past tense. Talking about who she truly was is a difficult thing when she was such a unique figure to so many of us. We all have our different interpretations, but I feel this; She very much stood for beauty in this world. From her impeccable taste and incredible sense of style, to beautiful design which is obvious having spent any time at all in mum's home in Warwick Road. She stood for beautiful friendships built up and sustained over decades, and for the beauty of strong unbreakable familial love.
There's a quote I'd like to read here from Frank Lloyd Wright, which I'm sure many of you might know was her favorite architect and whose creations she would always go out of her way on her many travels to visit. He said:
“The longer I live the more beautiful life becomes. If you foolishly ignore beauty, you will soon find yourself without it. Your life will be impoverished. But if you invest in beauty, it will remain with you all the days of your life.”
― Frank Lloyd Wright
Mum did this every day because it was so natural to her, as at her core she was such a stunningly beautiful person. A beauty manifested in her love of diversity in people reflected by the contents of this church which have come to pay their respects today. She was able to see the beauty in others so easily and because of this she brought out the best in people, in her students, friends and us her family. She so willingly gave her time to others and worked so hard in this life that I think she ultimately reflected her inner beauty in the physical environments she built around her, her beautiful houses she created which in turn were the most wonderfully warm, loving and supportive homes to grow up in for myself and my brothers. And it was this investment in beauty I think which enabled her wish to be granted, and that is she always wanted a daughter, and she ended up with three, that she said herself if she could pick any three girls for her sons, she would have picked Sarah, Mela, and Ella.
Her own role as a daughter was one of the most important in her life and her relationship with her mother was as strong as it is eternal. Like sisters in their closeness, they leaned on each other and while there is a deep tragedy in them being back together so soon I know that they are again, and that they have each other, like in life.
But her most important relationship, and deepest, was with Dudley, my dad. Their shared love and affection, respect, commitment and support of each other is an uncommon and rare gift and it was a relationship built around such a warm shared sense of humor that it was a joy to be around for family and friends alike. My dad got lucky with my mum, clearly. I think he'd be the first to admit that. But mum as well couldn't have chosen better or more wisely. She married a wonderful man, different in so many ways to herself, but the same in all the most important ones, and I know she would want me to stand up here and say on her behalf about just how amazing he has been through this past year and how supportive, and how he has always been.
Six years ago when my son Logan was born my mum agonized for months over what she should be called. She ended up going traditional with Grandma but not before she had tried out 25 different variations of grand mum, nan sue, etc. I don't think she was ready to accept the realization she was old enough and certainly never looked it but yet she couldn't have been a better and more amazing grandmother. No matter what he did my mum would always see the best in him and reassure us that he was as good as gold. The way that she loved Logan and supported him just as he was, to the hilt, is the support we three boys had growing up and that I carry with me every day. Absolute love. Looking at our children through her eyes was always so special and something I know Sarah and I are going to miss so much. It breaks my heart, that Penelope, and Seb and Ella's expectant daughter, and her grandchildren in the future will not remember first hand, her love, her breath on their necks and the feeling of absolute love and security that she provided so completely.
But despite this I know my mum would have wanted this day to be life-affirming. She would have wanted us to go from this church with a renewed sense of purpose and vigor in this life and for us all to remember and share that love with one another.
As Dad touched on, it was one of my mum's last conscious wishes that she wanted to get home from the German clinic that she was being treated in back home to London. It gave my Dad, brothers and I a mission, and we were able to organize an air ambulance in the form of a Lear jet to get her back to the Royal Marsden and from there by blue lighted ambulance to our home in Warwick Road. Despite losing consciousness on the journey back, the peacefulness of her expression and spirit immediately upon being back in her own bedroom was the most profound and transformative experience of my life. And it reflected the narrative of her life, one of a beautiful story, she had a wonderful marriage and close relationship to us her children, her daughters that came to her later in life, her great circle of family and friends. And in the fight against her terrible disease right up to her own passing there was an incredible elegance, dignity and courage that was humbling to witness.
I'm going to close with a reading from one of my mum's favorite books, 84 Charing Cross road. We have always shared a deep love of books. It took me over an hour to find this book trawling through all of her bookshelves which if you've ever visited her house might not surprise you (Nic did later tell me they were alphabetized by authors name which would have been good to know going in). But I aspire to one day have a collection as great and more importantly to have read through the majority of them. Mum wasn't just a collector of books, she was a great devourer of them. And the love of books is something my own small family shared with her and I see in my son early which gives me no end of comfort that that love lives on and will endure.
'I had a seat by the window and I slid into it and peered out, looking for them. Just as I saw them and lifted my hand to wave, they turned away and vanished in the crowd. The plane lifted - and suddenly it was as if everything had vanished: Bloomsbury and Regent's Park and Russell Square and Rutland Gate. None of it had happened, none of it was real. Even the people weren't real. It was all imagined, they were all phantoms. I am here on the plane trying to see faces, trying to hold onto London, but the mind intrudes with thoughts of home: the mail piled up waiting for me, the people waiting, the work waiting. Bits of Prospero run in my head:
Our revels now are ended. these our actors
. . . were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air . . .
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples . . . dissolve And, like the insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on . . . Rest in peace
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
[Image]
Two weeks ago at this time. We miss you so much xxxx
"A Eulogy"
No comments yet. -