Entrance: I’ll do it all over again, Crystal Gayle Good morning everyone, and welcome to you all today as we come together to say goodbye to and celebrate the life of Robert Michael Harvey. My name is Julie and it is my absolute privilege to be conducting this service for someone whose presence will be felt always, who will always be the character he was in life. I hope that it captures Bob, and I hope that it helps. Maureen and Julia want it to be an upbeat celebration of life, and that is my intention. But I know that his death has come as a shock for all of you, and, having spent some time with Maureen and Julia, and Cole, I now know some of what he meant as a husband, father and grandfather, not to mention brother-in-law, son, uncle and friend. So I’m under no illusions that this is a tough one. Maureen would like me to announce that there will be a gathering after the service at the Chestnut Club on Old Coventry Road, Nuneaton, to which all are invited. Bob died on the 23rd of April, aged 66. He has left behind and is already much, much missed by his wife Maureen, daughter Julia and grandson Cole, as well as his mum, all other family members and friends he gathered over the years. The list would have been too long if everyone were named … I’m sure you know who you are and what you mean to the family. I’m told that Bob had eclectic music taste and today we’ve come in to a song by Crystal Gale, a singer he loved. You will hear more music chosen by Maureen because of its significance to Bob. We will also shortly hear a tribute from Bob’s friend of many years, Rick, and a very special poem read by Maureen’s brother Wyn. Today, we all know we’re at a funeral, and we know he was much too young. So let’s say thank you for him. Let’s be safe in that we can cry - it’s okay, of course, to grieve - but we can also smile and we can laugh. Let’s spend this time thinking of everything we gained from his life, and give thanks for all the love and laughter that he brought into every one of ours. Bob was a man with a sense of humour, and will be remembered as such, so let’s do this the way he would have wanted. Eulogy: Rick Maureen met Bob when she went to watch her brother Wyn play rugby. Her dad was referee, and by all accounts attracting some criticism from the crowd. Bob and his friend Rick thought that Maureen and Wyn were boyfriend and girlfriend, a view dispelled when Bob and Rick followed Maureen after the match … it turned out that they’d been to the same secondary school, but never met as there were two years between them. That was 1967, and here we are, 47 years later. When they were first married, in 1969, they lived in a caravan, making sure they got meals by visiting each other’s parents. The decision to emigrate was based largely on work opportunities and house prices, as well as Bob’s long-held desire to travel, particularly to Canada where they both had aunts and uncles. These became their support network. Bob’s uncle had advised them to ‘just think about it as a vacation.’ This they did – they made the move in 1972 and have been there ever since. The picture on today’s memorial card is of Bob walking along the beach at Lake Huron at sunset, a picture taken by Maureen’s sister. This is where Bob and Maureen bought their getaway cottage in 1983, a cottage loved by Bob, where he had his toys, his tractor and his motorbike, and Mr T, the smelly 20-year-old cat that came up to the deck to see him … and he would live for the summers when he could go to the cottage. They settled in London, Ontario at first, only 45 minutes from the cottage. He could even go to work from there. Later they moved to Mississauga, then Acton, Ontario – now a drive of over two hours from the cottage, but never too far. For the last few years they’d had Cole out there for weeks at a time, a real family experience and great memories for him. By trade, Bob was a tool and die maker. He rose to Plant Manager and when he became semi-retired, he’d carry on his trade as production engineer doing contract work. Julia described him to me as a workhorse, a man with real work values. To Bob, it was important to build respect as a manager by going out there and actually doing the job he was managing. He didn’t suffer fools gladly and was no fan of hypocrisy, and he taught Julia the same. In fact, he took an almost forensic interest in Julia’s own career, thriving on her excitement at working for an innovative start-up. He’d read articles and blogs on the industry; he’d be able to talk to her about the company and its groundbreaking product. He did this because he was proud of her achievements, proud that his daughter worked at the cutting edge of a new technology, proud to see her happy and self-fulfilled. As a dad, Julia described how, when she was young, he’d pin her under his legs and make her watch John Wayne films, Star Trek, the Rockford Files and Kung Fu. Then they’d watch Bugs Bunny together, and he’d bump her off the couch. It was a bit of a shock for him the first time she flipped his legs up and got away. She was a bit of a match for her dad, actually, but Bob took no prisoners, not even his daughter. Julia could beat her own Principal at chess but not her dad. The closest she came to it was when he had patches over his eyes and she got him in check. He still beat her. In fact he’d play the computer at chess and beat it. It seems the only person who could beat him was Cole when they played Risk at Christmas. They had to have a rematch, of course, which Bob won. One of the anecdotes I really liked was how, whenever her parents came to visit, Julia had to leave one room in need of some attention to keep Mum happy, and always have a job that required a trip to Canadian Tyre (Canada’s equivalent of B&Q) for Dad. As a friend and neighbour, Maureen said that Bob was a wonderful listener and that people would come over just to talk things through with him. I asked if he was physically demonstrative and they said he’d give you a hug and a kiss, but didn’t overdo it. Julia never doubted it, though. She never doubted that he was there for her. He teased to show affection … and this extended to nieces and nephews. Bob loved all of his nieces and nephews but there are two, Amy and Kate, that lived in Canada for some years, and became very close to him. Maureen’s younger sister Wendy moved out there and the girls were young enough to see Bob almost as a grandfather figure. One day, Amy and Kate, at four and two, were sitting eating Smarties. ‘There’s a mouse at the top of the stairs,’ cried Bob to Amy, who duly got up to look only for him to take one of her Smarties. This was all witnessed by the two-year-old Kate, and Amy came back shaking her head: ‘I don’t see it,’ she said. So Bob told Kate to go and find the mouse at the top of the stairs. Kate also got up and moved towards the stairs, but came back to pick up her Smarties and take them with her. It does have to be said that Bob had a very sweet tooth. Sometimes Maureen would ask him what he’d eaten that day and he’d say ‘nothing’ his voice muffled because his mouth was full of cookies. The signs were there much earlier, though. When he was a child, his mother worked at Mars in Sough and would bring home free samples, which on one occasion she found Bob helping himself to. In order to put him off eating so much chocolate, she laid out in front of him all of the multi-packs she had and told him to eat them. When he’d made his way through three of these packs and showed no sign of stopping, she took them away again. At either end of the area where their cottage stands on the lake, there are a couple of native American Indian reservations - Stony Point and Kettle Point. Bob had his own unique idea of cremation and always said that when he died, he wanted Maureen to put him on a raft, float it out to the middle of the lake and get an Native Indian to light a flaming arrow and shoot it into the raft. Maureen’s plans are a little less ambitious, but equally imaginative. She could make him a mini raft out of lollipop sticks, place his ashes on it, set it on fire and send it out over the lake. She and Julia will keep some for jewellery – Maureen’s will be blue like the Sapphire she didn’t get for her 45th wedding anniversary. But the idea really suits Bob as, by all accounts, he was a bit of a pyromaniac (like most men). And it suits his sense of humour – described by Maureen and Julia as warped and twisted – a quality I clearly saw had passed down to Julia. And thanks to modern technology, both Maureen and Julia have Skype messages in text and voice from Bob … but no technology is needed for their memories, nor the memories Cole will always have of his grandfather. A presence such as Bob can never be gone. He lives in them, and his legacy is that he will play his part in each of their futures; his legacy, in fact, is loud and clear, and will always be so. Reflection You will all have your own unique memories of Bob and the times you shared with him. We’ll now take a few moments of quiet reflection whilst listening to a track he really liked. If at any time during the period of reflection you would like to come forward and pay your respects to the casket, please feel free. Have I told you lately that I love you, Rod Stewart Poem – Wyn We now come to the time in our service when we have to prepare to say our final goodbyes to Bob. The curtains will soon close to a piece of music of Bob’s choice, but it is important to remember that this is only Bob’s body we are committing here today, not his personality, his skills, his generosity, his care or his spirit. These will remain alive forever in your minds and in your hearts. Please stand for the Committal. In love and respect, we have been remembering your life, Bob. Your memory is already committed, safe and warm to our hearts. In sorrow but without fear, in love and appreciation for your life, and for the privilege of sharing it with you, we commit your body and say goodbye. We honour the way you lived your life, we honour your character, your values, your humour, your energy, your skills, your passionate support of Julia, your love for Cole, and of course your love for Maureen and the way you built your life together. Most of all, we honour the person that you always will be. As we say farewell to you now remember that you will be loved forever. You will always be here. You will never be forgotten. May peace, strength and understanding grow from this sorrow and enrich our lives. Closing words It’s not surprising that, given that slightly warped sense of humour, Bob was a fan of Monty Python … and I thought it would be a good idea to find something repeatable that I could include at this point in the service. It was a thankless task, apart from the eponymous Always Look on the Bright Side of Life, which I considered quoting from, and then I thought, no … I was struck the other evening, as I often am, by the sheer dignity of Maureen in her loss. The strength she shows is an inspiration, and I decided to go back to that Rod Stewart song. Bob loved it, and I don’t think it’s too far a jump to consider that he very likely related the words to his own life and his own wife. And part of it even to the cottage on Lake Huron. So I’m going to read them now: Have I told you lately that I love you? Have I told you there’s no one else above you? You fill my heart with gladness Take away all my sadness Ease my troubles that’s what you do All the morning sun in all its glory Greets the day in all its glory too You fill my life with laughter And somehow you make it better Ease my troubles that’s what you do There’s a love that’s divine And it’s yours and it’s mine Like the sun And at the end of the day We should give thanks and pray to the one To the one Have I told you lately that I love you? Have I told you there’s no one else above you? Fill my heart with gladness Take away all my sadness Ease my troubles that’s what you do. Anyway, something Bob and Maureen always did was dance the last waltz (even if he was in a bad mood), so this is what we’ll play him out with now. Whilst you listen to it, remember Bob as you knew him, then go and raise a few to him, and laugh at all of those memories. Maureen, Julia and Cole, he’ll never be really gone. He won’t ever be just part of the past – his influence is too strong to die with his physical death. Everyone here, even me, takes a part of him into the future. It’s been an absolute privilege. Thank you. Exit: The Last Waltz, Englebert Humperdinck