Proudest moments

If you were to ask me about the times I've felt most proud, two spring to mind.

The first was watching my dad learn that he had been elected as Deputy of St Martin for the first time back in 2010.

I can recall the results being announced and seeing the jubilation on my mothers face, then turning to face Dad.  By contrast he had a blank expression - I don't think he quite believed that he'd managed to win, and clearly the result was taking a few seconds to sink in.

It was such a joyous time for all those that were involved in his campaign.  For dad, it was a double whammy: he managed to both win the election and lose weight, owing to the fact that he walked around the entire parish in his quest to canvas every household.

The second time was the other week at mums funeral where I was able to give her eulogy with my uncles.

Mum had said that she'd like her brother Peter to do her eulogy.  I get the feeling that asking someone to speak at your funeral is a bit of a big ask, and mum had already seen Peter speak admirably at my Grans funeral so I think that factored into her decision.

I knew I wanted to write something to be read, but I only really put pen to paper after she passed. It wasn't even meant to be a eulogy, more just some personal memories, but it sort of manifested into a eulogy when it became apparent that someone was needed to read out her vast array of sporting achievements.  You should all thank me for keeping those short, because there were many that we had to leave out!

I hadn't really intended to speak, but as I wrote, I realised that the only person that would be able to deliver the speech was me.

Whilst there were a lot of facts about her life, there was also the recounting of treasured memories, the telling of a few low quality jokes, as well as the emotional bits towards the end. 

It was all so personal; if I was writing it, it didn't seem right to ask anyone else to read it.

So, although I knew it might be hard, I also knew that if I didn't at least try to give the speech I'd regret it forever.

Fortunately I've been privileged to have been asked to do two best man speeches earlier this summer and so I felt happy enough with the level of practice of the intonation that needs to be done in order ensure that the delivery seems natural and not like you're reading off a piece of paper.

I had done two full run throughs in the Chapel the morning of the funeral with Jack and Dan repeatedly telling me to talk slower.  Talking louder wasn't a problem as apparently i've always had a loud voice.

I'd read my speech so many times that i managed to take almost all the emotion out of it, which was good because when I read it through the first few times, I cried.

I also didn't look at anyone whilst speaking as I was worried that it might set me off.  I'm not so stoic that I don't want to cry, it's just that it's hard to read with tears in your eyes.

After sitting down, Dad gave me a little handshake and said well done.  I think that he appreciated that we'd given her a good send off.

The only bad part? It was the proudest moment of my life to date, and my mum wasn't around to see it.

I knew we should have brought the coffin to the Chapel.

I would like to end by talking about Jacks proudest moment.  He is a very special boy who received a very special certificate.  So special that mum kept it in one of her memory boxes.