What more can I say about my Dad? His role in my life was so central, that I can hardly conceive of what my life will be like without him. I struggle to imagine, but must now find out. It is hard to summarise his life in just a few words. He was the centrepiece of the family, and no single story can serve as a microcosm to illustrate the richness he brought to all aspects of my life.
in-jokes, impressions, and the driest irony
I think ‘richness’ is a good word to describe what he brought. Not simply because his name was ‘Richard’, but because he lived such a vibrant life despite his disabilities. He did not strive to be especially practical or productive, instead choosing to savour a fulsome life wherever he could. Whenever he would call me, it would ostensibly be to ask how I was, but the jokes were never very far behind. My Dad had a fantastic sense of humour, replete with in-jokes, impressions, and the driest irony. My Dad played such a foundational role in my life, it is hard to disentangle the things I get from him from how I just naturally am. He got me into videogames, for instance. I remember being a six year old and watching him play the original Halo on the original XBOX. We both played every Halo game together, and I really wanted to finish the most recent one with him, but sadly we did not have enough time.
like a brother
It made me realise that in many ways, my Dad was a lot like a brother to me. Before being a husband or father, brother is actually the role that my Dad held for the longest time in his life. Being the middle child, Richard spent his whole life surrounded by boys, so I wanted to look at how my Dad’s formative experiences supporting and being supported by brothers changed him, and helped make him the person he was today. Maybe I will even be able to learn something from my Dad’s example about how I should be as a brother.
I can tell that Richard’s relationship with his brothers was built on a unique combination of mutual support and sarcasm. At school, for instance, Richard would always review his brothers’ school lunches, insightfully remarking that they either “got lucky” or “didn’t” with the portions that day. Early on, this demonstrated my Dad’s lawyerly sense of justice, which his brothers all benefitted from. Moreover, in the 1970s when TVs had lots of buttons that needed pressing, Richard enlisted Keith as “the family remote”, with the special duty of controlling the TV so that Richard could sit on the couch. But the support my Dad gave was always there when it really mattered. Just like when I moved to Germany, I could see how my Dad was supportive to his brothers too. When Anthony was getting ready for his first day of big boy school, Anthony was worried about how he would find it without his brothers being there to back him up. In a touching display of empathy, my Dad gave Anthony that troll doll, and told him that the troll would protect Anthony, even in Richard’s absence.
always there, always present
From my fact-finding mission, I also learnt that my Dad was full of brotherly wisdom. My Dad was always diligent and studious at school, notwithstanding his poor spelling. Perhaps because of this my Dad was a veritable font of advice. Whenever Keith wanted to discuss something big or small, Richard was always the first person he would turn to, much to Aunty Anne’s dismay. For example, when Keith wanted to buy a new car with tinted windows my Dad wisely pointed out to Keith that he would look like a chauffeur whenever he drives, and doubly so when Keith cleaned the car after a drive. Keith concurred, and bought the car anyway. Richard’s advice was so keenly felt by Keith, that he even felt the need to bring it with him on holiday, calling Richard constantly to get his opinion about the itinerary, food, and other travel arrangements. Princess Diana always said that, “There were three of us in this marriage”, and I think Aunty Anne feels the same way, often remarking that it was as if we had brought Richard on holiday with us.
I think so much of why we came to my Dad for advice comes from the fact he was always there, always present. He knew his brothers’ lives inside and out, just as he knew mine. Mirroring my own experiences, Richard was there not just when the big things happened, but also when the mundane everyday things happened. This meant taking the time to listen and laugh, even when it was about nothing at all. In that way, listening to Richard and Keith speak on the phone several times a day was like a bizarre episode of Seinfeld. They would prattle on about nothing much, day in, day out. I hope I can follow my Dad’s example, and become more present for my own siblings by prattling on too much. But alas, this might be a skill unique to Richard, which is why I’ll conclude this eulogy here.
