searching for a silver lining: Gone too soon

As many of you will know, on Good Friday this year, my Dad died very suddenly. I am still struggling on a daily basis to accept that he is gone. I don't believe that i'll ever get over losing him so soon. My Dad had a couple of health issues, but nothing life threatening (that we were aware of until it was too late) and one of those conditions would have got progressively worse as he got older. So, I had fully prepared myself to have to spend more and more time taking care of him - even with the possibility of moving home to be nearer. This I expected to have to do for at least 20 years. He was only 65. What I hadn't prepared for was for him to not be here. Since his death, panic attacks, anxiety and vertigo have returned on a regular basis. This of course is whilst still battling migraines and all that goes with them. So needless to say that i've not been having a very easy time of things these past couple of months.

I wrote the eulogy for my Dad and I wanted to share it with you. It can give some of you a little glimpse of who he was and what he meant to me. Although in adult life our relationship was somewhat different, we were even closer and had a very good understanding of each other - especially as we were so alike in personality. I truly felt like he was one of the only people in my life who always had my back - no matter what. I cannot begin to describe what he meant to me and how much I miss him.

Ted Crawford Aug 1951 - April 2017

I truly never imagined that writing a Eulogy for my Dad would come so soon. But without a doubt, it is my honour to do so. This is just a small reminder of the things that made him who he was… and I hope that it will help you to remember the part that he played in your life, however small. Most of you knew him as Ted and as a kid he was Teddy. For 5 of us he was Dad and he did get to be Grandad too – 16 times to be precise!

In 1999 Dad moved to start a new life in Germany with Jackie and in 2004 they were married.

We were very happy to have him back in England this past year. Despite his riding days being over due to health issues, he never lost his passion for all things cycling, often spending hours in his garage building his own bikes from specialist frames and parts.

As a kid, Dad had a little foray into the world of Football. His father had played as a professional and Dad felt it only right to give his football talent a test with try-outs for teams such as West Ham and Arsenal. He played for the Arsenal youth team for a while, before deciding to settle down and have his family. He always stayed active though, marching us kids (and his beloved dog Buffy) around on walks for hours and then, when we were older, he would go off cycling for miles and miles in full Tour de France mode.

Dad was “King of Nicknames” – none of us kids ever got referred to by our given names, we were Peanut, Pugsley, Rim, Skippy Cheese and Frog. Even in later, adult life, this is who we still were as far as he was concerned. Even his son in law had the privilege of being named “Gadget” and one of his eldest Grandsons became “Lightning”. In Dad’s mind, there was always a perfectly valid reason and thought process for his invention of your nickname, which I believe, made you feel even more special. Dad also gave himself aliases on occasion, like the time he was approached by a window salesman outside B&Q. He was, on that occasion, Mr Jacobs.

Dad was always joking around and causing mischief when we were kids. He always had time for us, whether it was sitting there for hours getting his hair done in a make shift hair salon, playing sleeping giants, chasing us round like an ape, or tickling us till the tears ran down our faces. One of his favourite games was catching you right in the face with his smelly sock that he’d launched from his position on his couch and declaring with glee “Bullseye!”

Catchphrases were a regular feature. If you decided to try and play him at his own game, with tickling or sock throwing, he would announce that “you’re gonna regret that”… Inevitably, a counter attack was launched and you were then reminded that you were simply a “little pune”…

When we were sick, he took care of us. He disciplined us and brought us up to have manners, respect and good old fashioned human kindness. You usually never repeated the behaviour that got you a clip round the ear, but we never felt that he didn’t show us how much he loved us.

Lifesaving events included a rescue from the deep end of a swimming pool and on more than one occasion, crashing through the water to reach the blow-up boat we had fallen asleep in, before we drifted out to sea.

Working from early morning with plenty of late nights too as a self-employed Plumber, Dad always made sure we enjoyed a Summer Holiday on the West Coast of France every year. Weekends and half terms usually involved visits down to Portland in Dorset.

Music was a huge part of what brought happiness to Dad. Hours of driving with us kids in the van was always done with the likes of Bob Segar, The Drifters and many others playing at full blast with us all singing along. Friday nights at home, especially if he’d had a couple of pints at The Mill Pub, Dad cracked out his vinyl and got playing on his Bass Guitar.

One thing that Dad was never great at was his fashion sense. There were so many attempts to help steer him in the right direction but he was convinced that his slip on, tassled shoes from Freeman Hardy Willis were “cool”. That may be so Dad. But not with white sports socks and cut off combat trousers. I think this was another thing that made him his own person. He just wore whatever he felt comfortable in, it was as simple as that.

One of Dad’s favourtie sayings was “to cut a long story short” . He never did cut those stories short though. Until now.

Despite the sadness that we might feel without him here, we can be thankful for the life that we did have with him and hold onto our precious memories until we can be reunited.