My Dad, David, died peacefully in his sleep on 23/2/25. Tim and I returned home less than a week later and have now been back in Bexhill for eight weeks. I have been grateful for the chance to spend time thinking and talking about Dad and to support my Mum to organise Dad’s funeral, which was held on 28th March.

Dad was admitted to hospital in February 2024. He had been cared for at home by my Mum up until that point. He remained very independent but was getting slow and tired. The ambulance staff noticed that his ECG was all over the place. He nearly died in hospital and was diagnosed with end stage heart failure. After two weeks in hospital we arranged for him to be admitted to nursing care for respite as a way of getting him off the ward, as there was no more that could be done in terms of treatment and he would need a large care package and specialist equipment in place to return home. In the end he and Mum decided that it would be best for him to remain in the nursing home. Mum visited him daily until his death. She told me he wanted her to read him all my travel blogs.

I thought that in this blogpost I would share the eulogy I gave. I have included some extra information that I didn’t have time to include at the funeral.

Here it is:

As everybody who knew him is aware, my Dad was an unassuming, quiet gentleman who always let others lead the conversation.  So I thought it would be good to let him tell you a bit about his background in his own words.  These words were written by my Dad, David on a retreat led by Sister Maureena which he attended with my Mum at The Ammerdown Centre.  This place of reflection was important to Dad and Mum in their later years, when their three children had left home and they had time to think and deepen their relationship. Dad writes:

‘I was born in Wandsworth, South West London on the 19^th December 1932.  My Father Curt came over from Saxony (Germany) in 1911.  He was trained as a pastry cook.  My Mother, Annie Daniels was working at the same hotel.  They finally …married in 1912.  Since he was an alien, my Father was interned on the Isle of Mann during the first world war. I had three siblings.  My sister Phyliis, born in 1915, my younger sister Dorothy born in 1926 and my brother Robert born in 1920…’

Dad initially lived in Leckford Road Earlsfield. A lot of his family were nearby. Dad talked about ‘Nunky Fred’ in Blackshaw Road Tooting and ‘Grandpy Daniels’ his Mum’s Father. He remembers going to the pictures on a Saturday morning. Dad’s family moved to Leamington Spa during the years of the second world war, where they remained.

I believe that my Uncle Edgar originally came over to the UK with my Grandfather Curt. Edgar returned to Germany prior to the First World War, while Curt met Annie Daniels and settled in London. Edgar served in the German army during the first world war and there is a very sad letter that he wrote in 1920, informing Curt and Annie of the death of Curt’s Mother. He refers to many people perishing from the Spanish flu and mentions that everything seems to be going badly for Curt’s family in Germany. Dad and his siblings lost touch with Curt’s family and it is uncertain if any relatives remain in Germany.

Dad continues: ‘I left school in 1949…  I went into industry as a laboratory assistant at automotive products …The period 1961-65 was rather a sad one.  My Father died in 1948….[I saw] my mother decline with Alzheimer’s.  When she died in 1966 I left my job in Leamington [and] took a job…at The National Physical Laboratory Teddington…I met Gill who was to be my wife.  They do say you have stages in your life…I must say until I had my family…I was only transitioning to the second stage.  This stage seems to go on until you are called by God at the end of your mortal life…’’

For his national service, Dad served in The 41st Field Regiment, Royal Artillery in Egypt. He remembers this as a happy time.

Geoff, my cousin, told me that Dad used to take him and his brothers to football at Coventry City when Jimmy Hill was manager there. They would all cram into Dad’s ‘Bond Bug’ three wheeler car which ‘turned upon a sixpence’.

Dad was involved in the scout movement. He enjoyed walking and climbing. His friend David Barry remembers a trip up Cadair Idris in the winter. Dad gave David a lift to the start of the trail in his ‘Bond bug’ which David describes as ‘an adventure in itself’. Dad forgot to bring his air mattress and he and David got caught in a snow storm on the top of the mountain.

When Dad retired he cared for his Mother and Father in law.  My Grandma suffered from dementia, like Dad’s Mother did and my Mum brought both her parents to live with her and Dad.  Grandma frequently decided that she wanted to ‘Go home to Somerset’ and determinedly set off up the road.  I remember Dad following her at a distance on his push bike.  After a while he would casually bump into her and say ‘Fancy seeing you here Dor, why don’t we go home for a cup of tea?’  She always happily agreed. 

When I was growing up, Dad used to be a member of the ‘St Paul’s players’. a local amateur dramatic club who produced a pantomime every christmas. I think his greatest performance was singing ‘I feel pretty’ as an ugly sister in Cinderella. Liz my sister remembers wondering why her dad always ended up playing the villain and got upset that everybody was booing him!

Dad was a quietly religious man. Although my Mum converted to Catholicism prior to meeting him, he was initially not keen to take this step himself, although he supported her decision. In later years he became friends with Father Eric Flood and made the decision to convert. With Mum, Dad attended many retreats and groups including ‘Teams of our lady’, ‘The Newman Society’ and ‘The Council for Christians and Jews’ as well as other inter-faith groups. Dad’s funeral was attended by a C of E bishop, a Jewish rabbi and two catholic priests!

Dad also enjoyed travelling with Mum in his later years. They went on many holidays together, some organised by ‘The Ramblers Association’ and others by or with other groups. They visited Syria, Greece, Gozo and Poland among other places.

Music was very important to Dad. He played the piano. After he and Mum moved to Bexhill he joined the Bexhill Choral Society and sang with them for a number of years.

I think that the thing that was most impressive about my Dad was his ability to trust his children.  I went through a difficult time as a teenager, constantly arguing with my Mum.  On one occasion I decided to leave home after a particularly feisty row.  After spending a short time on a park bench in Kingston it was clear to me that this was an error of judgement and I returned early the following morning.   Dad remained calm, trusting that I would see sense and urging Mum not to panic and to go to work as normal while he ’did a bit of gardening’.  When I got home Dad was there waiting for me.  He didn’t tell me off.  In fact he didn’t say much at all.  He just checked that I was ok and then went off to work himself.   He was the one that supported me when I first left home, aged 18 to work as a ‘community service volunteer’.  I remember us eating McDonalds together on Chiswick High Street (which Mum would never have done – but he was always keen to get in the odd burger and chips) and giving me a hug goodbye. 

When Rob, my brother, turned Dad’s old car on its roof on the way home from the pub, saying to his friends the now legendary phrase  ‘assume the crash position’, Dad didn’t lose it as most other Fathers would have.  His attitude was that a lesson had been learned, nobody had been harmed and hopefully all involved would be more careful in future. 

Liz, my sister,  as Dad’s youngest child, spent a lot of time being carried around on his shoulders. She particularly enjoyed the delicious treacle tarts he used to make. She recalls watching him cycling to his allotment, his spade in one hand and his fork in the other, while also somehow managing to steer his bike. I racked my brain and couldn’t remember any trouble that she caused, she was definitely a golden child!

Until I had my own children, I had no understanding of the importance of Dad’s ability to believe the best of his children and accept them as they were, without attempting to control or  change them. 

Yes, Dad was a quiet man, but he was the best of men.  He stood for hope, human decency and love in a world that increasingly lacks these attributes.  He believed the best of all of us.  Because of his belief in us and his quiet support,  we did all turn out ok in the end.  I cannot express how much he will be missed.  Thankyou Dad.

Dad shortly before he died at a Valentine’s meal which Mum attended, organised by the nursing home where he was living