Dad's Eulogy

Massive thank you to you all for being here today, not only just today but for being there in the quiet moments too. I'm very aware that events like this one cause a massive ripple effect, and that for every person who’s been there supporting us, there’s another person there supporting them. An extra special thanks to those who have spent large amounts of time and energy organising today - as well as those who have been there in the most raw moment of grief, and held us anyway - you guys all know who you are. There are many times when we don't know what to say, or how to express our gratefulness. But please know that we are so deeply thankful for this protective blanket you've all created for us to be wrapped up in. I appreciate you keeping that strong as we continue to move through these terrible times - most importantly for my amazing mum - for whom I know those quiet moments are the hardest. 

Some of you may not know - but it took dad roughly 71 years to understand sarcasm, tell him anything sarcastically and he’d probably take your word for it.  So if I was to tell dad now that I really loved writing this eulogy - he’d likely still believe me. Dad did have a wonderful way with words though - always ready with beautiful speeches, handwritten cards, and gentle words that made things seem a little easier, even in the worst times. I do believe that I am most similar to my dad - so because of that hope I can honour him by offering some words of comfort for us all today. 

So… while I could definitely stand here and talk about how unfair it is that dad had to leave, or about this unbearable pain that I don't know how to fix, or of course about the sadness I feel knowing he’ll miss out on so much more. But I won't do this, because I also know that everyone in this room has likely experienced a similar kind of pain, or simply just felt wronged by the world in some way. And I also grew up with my dad - who taught me some irreplaceable lessons. The most valuable of which to me, was how to love with an open and honest heart. To live fully, is to live with love, but in the same breath - it is also to live with pain. Unfortunately we cannot have one without the other. But what a blessing it is, to have a pain so deep it shows clearly how irreversibly we can love. Dad also taught me how to trust my inner judgement and strength, to know that it will always hold me even in the darkest times. The way dad lived, and loved, was an inspiration to me in more ways than I could explain today, but I strive to carry this on through my life. I will always value how he never tried to tell me what to do, but he simply guided me gently, delighting in my happiness, and holding me tight whenever life got hard.

Dad always found ways to make us laugh, and he was just as happy being the subject of the laughter himself. He never cared too much what people thought of him, and certainly didn't mind being the source of complete embarrassment for his very easily embarrassed youngest daughter. There were countless moments like this. One that stands out was my graduation day, when we were all dressed to the nines - all except for dads shoes - which were roughly 34 years old I imagine, and sadly chose that day to disintegrate. So dad had to continue the day clomping around - with a suit on, yes, but also with barefeet.  Or the times he’d forget to put his tooth denture in before leaving the house with me: we’d cruise through the shops and he’d chat to every cashier we met on the way, not realising until he got back in the car that all the while he’d had no front tooth. He’d find the whole thing absolutely hilarious while I, of course, was completely mortified. Dad had an amazing ability to find delight in every single situation, no matter how ordinary or unexpected. His laughter, his light-heartedness, and his ability to never take himself, or life in general, too seriously are qualities I'll remember, and miss, always.

I wanted to share something I wrote to dad a few years ago - which seems to holds true through time.

You remind me of…. A years reflection By Alayna Rennie-Cook 

With a year gone and an increased attention to surroundings and experiences, you are held within so many special moments. 

You remind me of the flames that lap at wood, spreading their warmth into my heart, you remind me of the crack of fireworks as they light up the night sky with colour and fun. You remind me of the silliness that is essential in a life of sobriety, and you remind me of the synapses as new connections are made in our minds. You remind me of the grounding roots of trees that stretch far beneath my feet, and the solidity of mountains as they rise from the earth far above me. You remind me of the snow that drifts on a lazy wind to melt on my hand. You are in the credits of every movie, the note of every Tui song, and the bubbles of dishsoap as I ponder the world's problems. You are in the stillnes of the morning, when it is only you and I awake. And the dark of night, sitting with me quietly when I struggle to fall asleep.  You live in every smile and peal of laughter. You remind me of all my favourite memories, and all my favourite places, you remind me of home. 

And so - while yes we will grieve and we will cry - we will also laugh, and we will remember you. We will remember you in ways different for each of us, but all of them beautiful, as you are. While you are no longer here with us in person - you live in each of us that you have inspired. 

There will not be a day that goes by where your name isn't spoken, or that I don’t miss you. I love you to the ends of the earth, and back again. through this lifetime, and the next.  Always, your little girl ❤️