Terry Murray: A Life Well-Lived

June 22^nd 1936- December 21^st 2014

“Thank you all for coming today. It’s great to see so many people here, but I would have expected nothing less.

Dad was very popular, well-liked and loved in many areas of his life – work, bowls, the Con Club, Speakers and, of course, his family. It’s a great consolation to see representatives from all of these parts of his life here today.

Looking back, I remember the first time that I realised that, one day, my parents would die.

I was about five years old and watching TV in our old house in Partington and something made me realise that these two people – the two people who were my world – would one day be gone.

In some ways, you spend your whole life preparing to lose your parents but, when it happens, you are still never ready.

In the last few months, I think the fear I felt then as a five-year-old returned. I sensed, as did many of us that, for Dad, his time was coming.

As well as the fear of losing him, there was a different fear. There was the fear that, when this time came, I wouldn’t do him justice.

My Dad, as many of you might recall, liked a drink. When we were younger and he’d had a few, as the evening wore on, he would sometimes say: “You kids will never do as well as I’ve done. You’ll never travel as far.”

At the time, we’d raise our eyebrows and think: “Time for bed. The silly old bugger has had enough for tonight.”

When I think about it now, though, I think he was right.

He had a remarkable life.

From a fairly poor background, he travelled the world. He had a great career and a happy marriage. Dad had a very full life.

He also forged a partnership with my mother, a pairing that last more than 60 years.

It has been one of the great double acts. Up there with Morecambe and Wise, Lennon and McCartney and, occasionally, Smith and Wesson.

Dad achieved a lot, but Mum played a huge part in all of it. The best day of Dad’s life was the he met Mum. I think it may have made Mum’s Top 10 too.

One thing he believed in very firmly - a lesson he learnt from his own Father – was the importance of educating your kids.

All three of us – Andrew, Kevin and myself – went to university, something that involved considerable sacrifice from both Mum and Dad.

But, in truth, we still haven’t done as well as he did.

We didn’t have too.

He did all the hard work, all the heavy lifting.

He achieved so much and gave us so much that we didn’t have to travel quite so far. And that is something that we will always be grateful for.

So, I don’t see today as a day of mourning.

Dad wasn’t taken from us before his time and he didn’t suffer. And he didn’t leave much undone.

He saw his children grow up and he got to know and love his grandchildren.

He also enjoyed his retirement.

To the day he died. He was still playing snooker, watching the bowls and the football and enjoying the occasional beer. And the far more occasional cigar.

It was a life well-lived.

Mission accomplished.

A job well done.

We should celebrate his life and not mourn his loss.

For me, he will always be with me. I know I will hear his voice whenever I am on the verge of doing something unwise – as has been known – I’ll hear him say: “Why are you doing that you daft bugger?”

And, hopefully, I’ll listen.

We’ve had a lot of quotations today. From the poem cited by Kevin to the words of comfort from Father Tony.

I’d just like to add one more, from a book I read a long time ago.

For me, it sums up how we handle events like this –

We can’t go on.

We must go on.

We go on.

Let’s go on.

 But, please, let’s not forget him".

Funeral Eulogy, January 2015