My Eulogy for his Funeral Service ~ May 5th 2015
My Dad, Richard, was born on the 31st December, 1932, to Albert and Nancy Burrell, in Surbiton, Surrey.
The eldest of 3 children, Richard had a younger brother Alan, who sadly passed away several years ago, and a younger sister, Julie (my Auntie Julie), who is here today...
Richard was a child during the 2nd World War, and, he often told me stories of his school days and the air raids. Not liking school much, he would often play truant and, run up the nearest hill to watch for aircraft. During the air raids, instead of being in the shelters as he should, he would be up the hill, outside, gazing at the search-lights that lit up the skies.
This is one of many stories of my Dad being a bit of a rebel. He was always a bit “different”, a bit “eccentric”, but his intelligence, his determination, his sense of humour and his charm, got him through life, even when life sometimes seemed a series of storms and challenges for him.
In 1950, he was conscripted into the 2-year National Service, and was sent to Australia, with the RAAF. He was stationed in the meteorological office and had to do the weather forecasts for the pilots. He once told me, “I enjoyed doing the weather forecasts, but the weather out there were so boring. It was just sunshine and clear skies, every day.” More about his weather interest later ..
After his return from Australia, in 1952, he went to work for Decca Radar and that's where he met my Mum, Pat. They met behind the bike sheds! I've heard stories from Mum about how Richard would come to meet her and wait for her, with his bicycle, and they would ride off together. One night, he and Pat camped out over night, on a hill. Pat tells the story of how he persuaded her to sleep on a blanket, under the stars. Very romantic, but she also remembers there were horses in the field below (which scared her to death) and midges biting them all night, so that when she woke up the next morning, she was all itchy from head to toe!
This was despite the fact that she was already engaged, at the time, to someone else! But Richard had fallen in love, and was absolutely determined to have Pat. He wouldn't take “no” for an answer. As Pat says, “I had to marry Richard in the end. He wore me down, and I gave in!”
So Pat and Richard got engaged and were married in May 1955. It would have been their 60th – their Diamond Wedding Anniversary, this month!
In 1954, Richard began working for Electrolux, fixing vacuum cleaners, fridges, freezers and washing machines. He had his own special Electrolux van, and he would drive all over the South East of England, going to people's homes to fix their appliances. Not many people had cars at this time, so he was quite envied, having his own vehicle. He got to know the roads, and the towns very well, and he also got to know many many people. He made many friends through this job: – he was the “fix-it man” whom everybody loved to welcome into their homes, as he worked his magic on their machines.
He may have been a bit eccentric and socially awkward at times, (especially at parties), but with individual people, one on one, he was very sociable, friendly and generous. He would sometimes go out of his way to do kind things for people, and many friends remember this about him.
Richard also had a very great interest in, and a large collection of, clocks, watches, thermometers and barometers. The house I grew up in, is still full of them, everywhere. There's at least half a dozen clocks in every room of the house, all ticking and chiming away, day and night. And there's at least one thermometer in every room as well, inside and outside the house, and various barometers, that he would go around tapping every day.
Needless to say, one of his biggest hobbies was the constant monitoring of the weather, especially storms. He would always listen to the Shipping Forecast. And he often tuned in to the Gatwick Airport Air Traffic Control radio, especially during storms, to listen for the planes being diverted. He was also interested in international weather forecasts. His favourite page of any newspaper, was the weather section, with the list of temperatures around the world.
In fact, his keen interest in all things International extended beyond the weather to world Geography. He had maps of the world up on the walls of his shed, and many different kinds of maps, and atlases in his collection.
He didn't just keep his interests to himself, either. He loved sharing them. The biggest thing that made such an impact on so many people was his love of letter writing, and the sending of newspaper articles, maps, weather reports, postcards, photos, and many another other items of interest, to friends and family, all over England and the world. And not just occasionally, but often! Many of you here will have been the recipients of dozens of his letters and newspaper clippings, and other odds and ends.
And sharing these things, of course, involved postage stamps – lots of postage stamps. And yes, stamp collecting, was another big hobby of his, especially stamps from around the world. He always went out of his way to buy interesting stamps and put them on his brown envelopes with his notes and clippings inside. And lots of people wrote back to him, sending him clippings, postcards and nice stamps, too. He once joked to me, “I'm single-handedly keeping the Post Office afloat!”
Another hobby of Richard's was kite-flying. His favourite kind of kite was the “box kite” - the kind that could soar up very high. It was always quite difficult to launch, at first, and my Mum or I would often be called upon to run with it and help to throw it up in the air, while he let out the string from a fishing reel (something he'd designed). Eventually, once it was up, it always went up SO high, that it became just a dot in the sky. And he would gaze up at this dot for hours. It often didn't move much – it just stayed up there! Sometimes, instead of holding the kite, he would tie the other end of it to a rock on the ground, and then he'd sit or lie back and just watch it.
My Dad could be rather clever at designing things. When I was baby, he designed some special contraptions for me. I'd been born with a hip problem and had to have my legs put in a heavy plaster-cast, stuck in a frog-leg shape, for about a year, between the age of 1 and 2. As a result, I couldn't crawl or walk. So my Dad made me a special platform thing with wheels, which I was able to lie on and drag myself around on. He also made me a special push-chair, with openings at the sides so that my plastered legs could stick out of it. And then, he made me a special high chair, and a special toddler swing. I was too young to actually remember these things, but I've been shown photos and told about them ever since, and I was always so pleased and grateful to him for doing those things for me.
There are many other examples of things he did, for me, for Mum, Pat and for others – he was always wanting to help and often came up with unique ways of doing it.
Now, back to the kite story... One day, I remember, he had his box kite up on the beach, during a day out with friends. The kite had gone way up high, as usual, and he'd tied the other end of it to a rock and had laid back and fallen asleep. None of the rest of us were paying any attention to his kite. But then, towards the end of the day, the wind got up and a particularly strong gust of wind must have pulled the kite very strongly in the direction of the sea. It was strong enough that it unhooked the fishing reel from the rock and the fishing reel went bouncing along the beach, towards the sea. This woke Dad up and he ran after it, trying to catch it, calling for help, along the way. Suddenly, all of us saw what was happening and we all ran after the fishing reel trying to catch it. But, the wind was faster than us, and it blew the fishing reel into the sea, the kite above it tugging it strongly all the way. Dad waded into the sea up to his waist, trying to catch the fishing reel, which was being dragged quite speedily, by the kite, further and further out to sea! He soon realized he had to give up – it was going way too far out! I remember him dejectedly turning around and wading back, out of the sea onto the beach, dripping wet and forlorn, knowing he'd lost his kite!
We all sat back on the beach and looked up at the kite, which was still wayyy up high in the sky – and watched it, as it traveled further and further out to sea. We watched as it began to sink down, eventually, towards the water, far out – still only a speck on the horizon. We watched its descent into the sea, until it finally disappeared. Dad came away from that day, so very sad, mourning the loss of his kite. Mum eventually bought him a new one. But I remember how much that old kite meant to him.
Watching Dad in hospital over the last 2 months, was sort of a similar trauma for me and my Mum. You know how ill a person is, and you can see there's really nothing you can do about it. You watch them declining gradually, and you try to help them, and prevent them going. But deep down you know you can't really prevent the inevitable. You have to get to a point where you let go, turn around, and wade back in to shore, knowing that you can't follow the person where they're going. And then all you can do is sit back and watch them continue their journey, getting further and further away from you, slipping away, until finally, they are gone.
I like to think of Dad's soul, departing, in a similar way to the kite. Flying high and free, in the beautiful blue sky, flying further and further away from us, but still there, maybe, just a dot up in the sky, but still, watching over us somewhere. Out of sight, for us, maybe, but certainly not out of mind. In fact, more than ever, etched in our memories and in our hearts. We've had to let go of the string that holds the kite. But we have to let go of all strings eventually, so that we can be free and at peace. And so that his soul can be free and at peace.
Richard's unique personality and character, and his unique interests, are remembered fondly by many friends and family. I have gathered some written memories of Richard into a folder, which you can browse through over in the Barn Theatre, afterwards, along with some photos. And, if you would like to add your own memories (if you haven't already done so), I've provided a blank book for people to write in. Or you could simply sign it, to remind us that you were here today.
If Richard could see just how many people, friends and family have come today, to remember him and say goodbye, he would be so proud. He loved the idea of being quietly famous, in his own way. And then there are those who couldn't be here today, but who have written to us, or phoned or visited, with memories of Richard and condolences. It's clearly a testament to him, that he touched so many people's lives. And in these memories of him, his spirit lives on and is with us today, and always.
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