I wanted to write something devastatingly beautiful
In testament to a devastatingly beautiful life,
A devastatingly tragic death,
But words seem so empty.
You, who were able to make me smile in almost everything.
Who comforted just by the slightest touch,
And of course the breath-taking, rib-squeezing bear hug.
Who knew so much of me,
And helped me see so much more of Him.
To have known you is to have known something of Jesus,
Grace, joy, compassion, faith, humanity, humility, hospitality,
(maybe not patience!)
Anchored to a faith foundation that remained throughout.
Modelling hope in adversity,
Demonstrating faith in action,
I see you everywhere still
On the 1b bus, your bus,
In the stories I read my children,
At the bus park, sand park, water-tower park.
Walking through the gardens counting squirrels,
‘What shall we have for lunch; dip-dip egg, big egg, crackers?’
Fish and chips as a secret treat
Grandad roast dinners
Your Yorkshire puddings will remain unrivalled.
‘If you were supposed to have holes in your ears you’d have been born with them.’
Mind your backs – all clear,
‘Cup of tea?’
I suppose I will always hear your echo reverberating in daily life,
The shadow of you,
‘what would Dad say?’
Most of all you live on in the way that I live,
In the lives of my children.
My greatest tribute won’t be words but a life,
A life that hopes to be something like yours,
A life embedded in faith, fuelled by hope and lavishly rich in love.
A life like yours,
A Jesus life.