--> We are here today to mourn and to celebrate the life of Hazel. Someone we all miss terribly. Someone it was a joy to love. I want this eulogy today to be about that.
About love.
What we all feel today is grief. It hurts.
It twists, but the reason it does is because there’s a cost attached to a force
much more powerful than our pain. Because that grief, our grief, is the price we
pay for love.
The love of a wife. Of a mother, a sister, an
auntie, a friend, a Nana, a mother-in- law.
And for me and Joanne, a wonderful
step-Mum. Hazel was an inspiration to Rachel and I as we embarked upon that
most thankless but rewarding of roles in modern family life.
A daughter, let’s not forget, who made her
parents, Bob and Agnes, so very, very proud.
She may have been someone who you worked
with. And you’ll have loved her.
Or even the shop staff at Marks and Spencer
in Lancaster who greeted her with open arms every Christmas and Birthday as
she’d return the sacks full of gifts so she could exchange them for something
she really wanted!
And isn’t it true that whichever of those
boxes you ticked there, and apologies if I missed one, that you also tick the
friend one too. She was a true friend, a loyal friend, who was there for you
whatever and whenever you needed her.
What an achievement, what a life’s work. To
have lived a life so full of life and laughter, so full of love, to be so
loved. And to have done so without any
kind of edge whatsoever. Think about that.
All of us have loved Hazel in those
different ways. And all of us miss her in those different ways too. And today I hope I can remind each of you of
the ways in which she touched your lives.
I hope to give us all some memories to
share when we retire to the Fox and Goose later to celebrate her life.
Much in the spirit that Hazel and her
oldest friend June would when they’d put the world to rights most Friday nights.
One other difference though - you don’t have to smuggle in your own peanuts as
they did.
I may go off on tangents… Wasn’t that an
amazing storytelling gift Hazel had? But like her I hope I come back round to
the point of this story – the heart and soul of who she was. And in her spirit
too, I hope you will embrace, circulate and meet with new faces and welcome old
friends, very much as Hazel always did – like her
brother Harold – the outgoing wing of the Preston clan. She so impressed her
shyer brother and sisters with her confident and illuminating presence at every
party, every gathering she ever graced.
And yet there was a curious paradox with
that. Someone who worried so much, who cared so much and was anxious everyone
was alright, and not offended, could also be so fearless and carefree.
When I asked people in the family to share
their memories some consistent themes cropped. Family, friendship, loyalty. And dancing.
Think about what that says about someone. A
love of life and fun.
From the earliest years in Pilling, then by
the time the family moved to Daisy Bank, Lancaster to be closer to Mr Preston’s
job as the head gardener at The Moor Hospital.
Her sister May remembers the Queen’s
Coronation in 1952 and how they both had a role in the celebrations - as junior Morris Dancers.
How Peter was wowed by Hazel’s rock and
roll moves, as everyone else in the room was as they stepped away to stand,
stare and applaud.
And it was at dance classes where a 14 year
old Hazel danced with a dashing lad called John Hudson, warming him up for her
older sister.
And Angela tells me how when May eventually
married John, that she graduated to the big girls room and shared a bed with
Hazel, the big sister of the house. It meant dressing up in her sister’s stilettoes
and covering for her when she’d sneak in late from a night bopping on the
dancefloor at Morecambe Pier.
Andy recalls a holiday at Pwllheli Butlins
in about 1975, when she won a can-can dancing competition, wooing the judges
with a dandy pair of pop socks.
Happy
times. Happy memories.
Hazel always had time for family. Back
then, and as she always did thereafter. Coffee at Casa Baba on Cheapside on a
Saturday with Angela.
And then in later years staying in touch via
texting, Facebook and Skype.
Bridging ten time zones and talking
regularly with her sister in Australia, and visiting there too – the royal
visit with Angela, Peter and Pat - for May’s 60th.
Taught by the patient master and ever the early
adopter of gadgets and widgets, “our Andrew”, she embraced new ways to share
her love with friends.
Can a Mum have had a more devoted and
loving son than Andrew? Hazel was so proud of what a gentle and lovely man he
is, how he and Christine welcomed people into their home – as they have done all
of our gang. But how their large group of friends so loved sharing Hazel’s
company and she theirs.
And she was the devoted stand out Mother.
When Andy set off with 20 other apprentices to embark on their training, two
mums turned up at Irelands Coaches to wave them off. Of course, one of them was Hazel. But only one
climbed up on to the bus for a last goodbye.
But those Prestons – like us Taylors - have
something of a dominant male gene. After Andy, Chris, Gavin and Craig, then David
and Stephen - Angela then upset all the odds and gave birth to Claire. Hazel
was so shocked she checked inside Claire’s nappy just to be sure. And I think it’s fair to say they had a
special relationship from that day to this.
But what a lovely sister she has been –
supportive and there for them all when it mattered – through the ups and downs
of life and particularly nearly five years ago to Peter and Pat – at the sad
time of the deep loss of their son David.
I’ll remember a strong and resilient Hazel
too – how she learnt new skills for career changes. From Storeys, to nursing,
then from the NHS to the Nuffield. Embracing change – always learning, and
supporting colleagues and always there for patients too.
Her mild OCD at making sure things were just
so. Carrier bags folded and put away. Curtains drawn just so. I remember her
washing up at our disgusting student flat in Manchester. Tackling a pile of
plates that contained several new life forms as yet undiscovered by biology.
And how remarkably well she embraced being
a Grand Parent. To our five boys Joe, Max, Louis, Matt, and Elliot and to
Joanne’s three Jamie, Ben and Harry, she was a terrific Nana.
Jamie tells me tales of how his mates would
take over the garage, doing up cars, making a racket, spilling oil and creating
a bit of a mess. How Nana would give them a mild telling off, but then bring
them a plate a butties and to share a joke and a laugh with them.
I asked our eldest Joe what I should say today
and he said: “Just tell everyone how lovely she was.”
These are tales of family love. And I told
you I’d go off on a tangent.
Hazel entered my life when she first
started going out with my Dad. Two lost souls found each other. From that first
romantic date when he picked her up - in his pick up – the old romantic - it was a real love story.
Whatever misfortunes had fallen on them –
fate certainly turned its hand in bringing them together and they really, truly
found their soul mates.
Our memories, all your memories of Stewart
and Hazel will serve us all for the rest of our lives as a lesson in how to
build a lasting, deep and loving relationship based on respect and trust. Or as
my Dad said, the two words that make the secret formula for a happy marriage –
“Yes, Hazel.”
Dancing too. Indeed, my memories of the
lovers, at the start of their wonderful 30 year marriage, is smooching to Renee
and Renata’s Save Your Love at their joyful
and raucous wedding party at the Boot and Shoe.
How they were with each other, so devoted,
so complementary, so easy and so in love.
Hazel was a real “people person”.
She was such fun to be around, whatever the
occasion. Be it the Milk Kitters Ball or just a night out over a bar snack in
Winmarleigh with Peter and Joyce, or Kellett with Peter and Pat, or round at
Spencer and Sheila’s or at Ian and June’s. Or on a long walk with her sister in
law, my Auntie Elaine.
How she’d talk to anyone, be engaged and
ever so interested in meeting new people and hearing their stories.
In recent years I remember two lovely
occasions with them both – one at the Albert Dock in Liverpool supporting me at
a book launch. The other watching me wearing a silly hat and a gown at Preston
Guild Hall for a ceremony for the University of Central Lancashire.
I was proud of how Hazel circulated and met
people around those rooms. MPs, professors, editors, Lords. Some of them right up themselves, to be fair. But the point is this. Nothing and no-one
phased her. And rightly so.
On my Dad’s mantlepiece – is a card to my
Dad from May’s husband John, her brother-in-law, which summed it up for
me.
“You
know what, I reckon me and you are lucky to have married those two fantastic
sisters.”
How right he was. How right he is.
There are a lot more cards on that mantelpiece
and a full church today. That says it all.
And
now she’s gone.
A friend of mine, a Catholic priest, had
these words of comfort for me when we were in bits and in grief recently.
“It’s just crap isn’t it?” he said. (That’s
obviously not official scripture or anything).
But it summed up how we’ve all been feeling
and how we’ve been entitled to feel. But we have the opportunity today to
reflect not just on a rotten year, but to celebrate a wonderful life full of
our own love stories.
For how lucky we must feel today.
And to actually quote scripture this time,
from Matthew’s record of the Beautitudes of Christ:
“Blessed
are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
And that’s what I hope we feel today,
blessed that we are gathered to remember someone so special. Blessed to be
together.
Blessed to have loved and honoured to have
been loved.
No comments:
Post a Comment