Posted: Fri Mar 05, 2010 9:38 am
Danny Taylor, 1936 - 2010
This is the eulogy which was read at Boney's funeral service by his son Dale.
The service was opened by a choir singing Danny Boy and, closed with a rendition of Time To Say Goodbye by Andrea Boccelli and Sarah Brightman.
On behalf of himself and his family, Dale has asked me to thank the whole cover community for their support and kind words.
The service was opened by a choir singing Danny Boy and, closed with a rendition of Time To Say Goodbye by Andrea Boccelli and Sarah Brightman.
On behalf of himself and his family, Dale has asked me to thank the whole cover community for their support and kind words.
The following words are by kind permission of Dale Taylor and his Family.
Just before I begin, my family and I would just like to extend our deepest thanks for the tremendous outpouring of love and support we've received from all of you over the past few months. I’d also like to thank those that cannot be here today, including his friends from all over the world with whom my Dad shared his hobby of Photoshop Design with. It’s so hard to believe that Dad has gone; he had always been there – for all of my life – and now suddenly he isn’t anymore, and that’s going to take some getting used to, for us all.
I suppose two things strike me about the idea of delivering a eulogy on my Dad. First, it's not hard to speak well of him, you just have to tell it like it is. Secondly, the five minutes or so that we're allowed for it, in the crematorium service, isn't very long. This is just the tip of an iceberg, and what we should really do, what I'm sure Dad would really enjoy, would be for us all to carry on with this as we meet together later, and in the days and years ahead.
From as far back as I can remember I always knew my Dad was a great Dad, but then I suppose every little kid thinks that! The funny thing was, the older I got, the more certain of it I became. He was a busy man – and he worked hard to provide for our family – often involving some wheeling and dealing to make a few extra quid here or there. I remember as a kid, I loved going to work with him in the summer holidays – he was a rep, and we’d be in the car for most of the day. We’d talk about anything and everything, from stories of his childhood, to whether or not he could beat my Grandad at an arm-wrestle! It was during those summer holidays that Dad introduced me to the music of Elvis Presley, and anybody that knows me well knows that this is still a love that I carry with me today. For me, I just loved those hours that we spent together in the car, when I had him all to myself.
Dad was a man of tremendous enthusiasms, he was always taking up new hobbies with great energy and gusto. First it was his love of clay pigeon shooting, he was actually very good at it, although he did hang up his gun for many years. I remember when I was a boy, Dad taking up photography, he kitted out the whole attic as a darkroom with developing equipment... I wouldn’t be surprised if much of it is still up there! Then there was the homemade wine-making, the pungent aromas of various boiling substances around the kitchen and the whole house. He had his own little cottage industry going there for a time! I also remember his old CB rigs that he used to have, along with the 30ft antenna that he bolted to the rear of the house, much to Mums disapprovement. Mum & Dad had postcards from ‘good buddies’ all over the world... that was until he blew Viv’s telly next door and Mum made him wind things up before the police came knocking at the door...
Like I say, as we were growing up, it didn't matter what the party was: Mum & Dad were the life and soul of it, always. I always loved Christmas as a child, we always had folk around at our house and, as with most children, for me it was the best part of the year. I remember waking up my Sister at 4 O’Clock in the morning asking whether Santa had been yet?! We’d eventually pluck up enough courage to tip-toe downstairs and as if by magic there would be presents spread across the whole floor. Unfortunately, I didn’t usually get to play with a lot of my toys until Boxing Day because Dad would insist on testing them all! The centre of attention always seemed somehow to gravitate towards him, and he loved a new audience for his stories and jokes. Some of them were actually quite funny, at least they were the first time you heard them!
It’s been a long time since then, and Dad has taught us so much more. He taught us all to take pride in what we did, to always be honest, to celebrate successes – however small. To accept praise graciously and take criticism when it was fair, and to always admit it and say sorry, if we were in the wrong. Dad would never let any of us go to bed on an argument, he used to say life was too short. He taught us those things because they mattered to him, and my Sister and I have tried to teach those same lessons to our own children, in turn.
So what was Dad like as a person? Look around you – at his friends, his family, the people who knew him – see the impression he made on each and every one of us. That’s what he was like...
His friends had the good fortune of his genuineness, warmth and good humor. He brought so much laughter and happiness into the lives that he touched. He always looked out for others and often put their needs before his own. He had a rare quality that drew people to him and allowed him to find the goodness in others. There was never any pretension or prejudice about his feelings toward anyone. His love and friendship were very real
Dad inspired us all with his love of computers and thirst for knowledge, he loved technology and was always talking about the coolest new gadget. I can probably still recite every single computer that my Dad had over the years, outside of his family and friends, technology was his greatest passion. He was often at the butt of our jokes when he turned up at one of our houses sporting his latest gizmo, usually something he’d picked up from one of the shopping channels – a guaranteed life changer they’d tell him! That said, he took everything in the good fun with which it was intended, and he was in his element when demonstrating the capabilities of his latest addition to the computer room drawer, rarely to be seen ever again!
I’ll miss his obsessive-compulsive need to call me up to twenty-times, before eventually leaving a message saying that ‘it wasn’t important, but could I ring him anyway’. I’d be in the bath with Daisy or in the middle of dinner and I’d know it was Dad because no one else has a habit of doing this. Eventually when I did ring him back, it was usually to explain how to do something on the computer, something that’d I’d already shown him a dozen times – looking back, it’s very easy to forget he was 73 years old
You see my Dad never acted his age, I remember only last year him coming around to a party at our house. Susie had just bought some rollerskates and he was telling her about when he used to take us to the roller-rink as children. Before you knew it, we were all gathered at the front of our house watching my Dad skate backwards down the street, wearing Susie’s pink boots. Moments like these are priceless and will remain with me forever...
I wouldn’t say my Dad was a worrier, he was a ‘the glass is half-full’ type of guy, but he would often amuse us by the way he took things too seriously. I remember ordering some extra RAM memory for his computer, and talking him through fitting it himself as I couldn’t get across for a few days. That was my Dad all over, he always wanted everything yesterday! Anyway, I talked him through the installation beforehand and even sent him a link to a video tutorial. I said it’s very simple, there’s notch on the RAM so you can’t insert it the wrong way... all you need to do is make sure you earth yourself by touching something metal before inserting the RAM chip. I explained that there’s a remote chance that the static electricity build-up on his clothes could damage the chip... later that evening, ring ring, ring ring – it was my Dad, I knew it would be... “Dale, it’s Dad, right I’m in the kitchen with just my boxershorts on, I’ve opened up the back of the computer, now what do I do again?â€
You’ve got to love him for it, he was a perfectionist - if a job was worth doing then it was worth doing right! I guess Fathers serve as mentors, role models, and true friends. It’s true that I share many of my Dads traits, I’m sure Dawn could say the same. I always remember my Dad as a dinner-table debater and devil’s advocate, he was opinionated and was never shy about communicating it. But Dad was a man who kept his promises, he honoured commitment - He was a man of integrity, these are traits that any Daughter or Son would be proud of
My Dad kept his dignity right to the end, enabled by the compassionate care he received from the nursing staff and those around him. My last words to my Dad were to tell him that he was my best friend and that he shouldn’t be afraid. I told him that everyone will take care of Mum and that we will all think of him each and every day. Moments later my Dad passed away very peacefully, I take great comfort in the knowledge that we were all there for him right until the very end. It broke my heart watching him suffer, but I honestly believe that his greatest pain was having to watch us hurting. They say a boy never entirely grows into a man until he has buried his father – Well, Dad I know you’re watching down on us all and I hope that I can make you proud
If you’re here today, that means that my Dad touched your life in some way or another – and that means that you’ll miss him in some way or another
Yes, he will be greatly missed by many...
Friends will miss his company - the chats in the computer room, the passing conversations in the street
His grandchildren will miss his giddy-up rides, the drives out on a Saturday, the cherished moments with him on his favourite chair in front of the telly
Dawn, Chris and Susie will miss the loving father and father-in-law that he undoubtedly was. Always there when you needed him, to help whenever he could
My Mum will miss having her best friend by her side, her soulmate, her loving husband
Me... I’ll miss my hero