This is the toughest speech of my life, and though I am not normally apprehensive about speaking in public, I am not sure I can handle this one. So forgive me if I have to hand over at some point …
I would like to thank everyone for coming, especially those that have taken time off work or travelled any distance. Or indeed both. It is inspiring and uplifting to see so many people here, and this is a great comfort to the bereaved.
Sarah had an interesting and varied life, and for the most part a very happy one. You can get a fair impression of it from the photos looping around on the laptop, which are arranged mostly in chronological order. She can be seen at every stage of her life, nearly always looking bright and positive, whether skateboarding, throwing a Frisbee, or walking along the road at a cracking pace that I could not match, even when I was a lot fitter than I am now.
She had a flair for fashion, and was artistic and musical. Just two years ago we performed together at a charity gig in Gosport, raising money for Fairtrade.
Sarah was diagnosed with colon cancer, or something like it, in October last year, and was still active and busy for much of this year. Her final decline was shockingly rapid.
The cancer that killed Sarah was unusually aggressive, and defied all attempts at treatment. All things considered, we were never likely to win that battle. We must now put aside all regrets and accept that despite all our best efforts, we just could not save her. Accepting that we did our best, and made the best decisions we could in the circumstances, is an essential first step towards coming to terms with Sarah’s death.
At a time when Sarah had every reason to be preoccupied with her own dire situation, she thought of others, and for her funeral, requested donations to a charity opposed to human trafficking instead of flowers. Si set up a web page for the purpose via justgiving.com, and if you would like to make a donation, you can find the web address on the Order Of Service leaflet.
I’m going to resort to some quotations now. Bob Dylan sang, When you ain’t got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose. The enormity of our loss is a measure of how much we had. But it’s some comfort to me to know that while we suffer, Sarah doesn’t know she’s dead, and is no longer suffering.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, in his poem In Memorium AHH, wrote:
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
It is better that Sarah lived, and that we knew and loved her for thirty years.
Dylan Thomas said, Do not go gentle into that good night; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though she did not survive in the end, Sarah was by nature a streetwise survivor, who could handle the world better than I could at her age. On occasion, she was not above tactfully offering me, her dad, the benefit of her evidently greater wisdom. And I’m going to borrow some of that wisdom today.
When Sarah learned she was going to die, she was of course devastated, and I feared for a time that her spirit was broken. Not at all. She came to terms with the knowledge of her imminent death, showing the most extraordinary courage and strength of character. Her wedding to Si was a life-affirming triumph, and I shall never forget her verdict afterwards, when she said simply, ‘I’m happy’.
And my verdict now is that if Sarah could come to terms with death, then we who loved her can match her example and come to terms with the loss.
I would like to thank everyone for coming, especially those that have taken time off work or travelled any distance. Or indeed both. It is inspiring and uplifting to see so many people here, and this is a great comfort to the bereaved.
Sarah had an interesting and varied life, and for the most part a very happy one. You can get a fair impression of it from the photos looping around on the laptop, which are arranged mostly in chronological order. She can be seen at every stage of her life, nearly always looking bright and positive, whether skateboarding, throwing a Frisbee, or walking along the road at a cracking pace that I could not match, even when I was a lot fitter than I am now.
She had a flair for fashion, and was artistic and musical. Just two years ago we performed together at a charity gig in Gosport, raising money for Fairtrade.
Sarah was diagnosed with colon cancer, or something like it, in October last year, and was still active and busy for much of this year. Her final decline was shockingly rapid.
The cancer that killed Sarah was unusually aggressive, and defied all attempts at treatment. All things considered, we were never likely to win that battle. We must now put aside all regrets and accept that despite all our best efforts, we just could not save her. Accepting that we did our best, and made the best decisions we could in the circumstances, is an essential first step towards coming to terms with Sarah’s death.
At a time when Sarah had every reason to be preoccupied with her own dire situation, she thought of others, and for her funeral, requested donations to a charity opposed to human trafficking instead of flowers. Si set up a web page for the purpose via justgiving.com, and if you would like to make a donation, you can find the web address on the Order Of Service leaflet.
I’m going to resort to some quotations now. Bob Dylan sang, When you ain’t got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose. The enormity of our loss is a measure of how much we had. But it’s some comfort to me to know that while we suffer, Sarah doesn’t know she’s dead, and is no longer suffering.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, in his poem In Memorium AHH, wrote:
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
It is better that Sarah lived, and that we knew and loved her for thirty years.
Dylan Thomas said, Do not go gentle into that good night; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though she did not survive in the end, Sarah was by nature a streetwise survivor, who could handle the world better than I could at her age. On occasion, she was not above tactfully offering me, her dad, the benefit of her evidently greater wisdom. And I’m going to borrow some of that wisdom today.
When Sarah learned she was going to die, she was of course devastated, and I feared for a time that her spirit was broken. Not at all. She came to terms with the knowledge of her imminent death, showing the most extraordinary courage and strength of character. Her wedding to Si was a life-affirming triumph, and I shall never forget her verdict afterwards, when she said simply, ‘I’m happy’.
And my verdict now is that if Sarah could come to terms with death, then we who loved her can match her example and come to terms with the loss.