“Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened”.
Theodore S. Geisler (better known to most of us as Dr.Seuss)
It’s clear from the cards and messages Mum has received since Dad died that he was loved and remembered for his uniqueness, his idiosyncrasies and his ability to leave a lasting impression on all he met.
In particular that infectious laugh in all its unrestrained loudness which was his hallmark along with the wearing in later years of trousers in his favourite colour (red); the carrying of large amounts of stationery about his person and the finding of every key to every lock in the house and garden on an extra-long chain attached to his belt.
He’d have been very proud to know so many have come today or joined via the webcast to remember and say farewell.
Brian Godfrey Mills was born on 13th September 1933.
His parents were victorians.
His father was born in 1883. He had been an errand boy in the City of London and had worked his way up to becoming a company secretary.
His mother was born in 1893 and was a milliner until after WW1 when she married, had 2 children and was widowed in her early 30’s. She married my grandfather at the age of 40 and Dad came along soon after.
Brian was a popular name at the time. Godfrey was my grandfather’s best friend in the trenches of The Western Front in 1916. We do not know what happened to Godfrey but his named lived on in our family.
In 1933 the world was in shock from a great global financial crisis; a generation of young men had been killed in conflict and the world was less than a decade away from repeating the catastrophe.
Against that background Brian was born into a household of relative privilege with 2 parents to provide for him; 2 older half-sisters to fuss over him and a housekeeper he was very fond of.
It must have been a tremendous shock to be sent away to public school in Sussex at the age of 9. Dad rarely talked in detail about his school days except that he tried to make the best of the experience. It was a place where opinions were taught not sought and where young men were expected to cultivate hobbies and interests that would sustain them in later life. In Dad’s case: steam trains; motor vehicles; gadgets of all kinds, especially those available by mail order and (possibly) bonfires.
We do know he excelled at soccer and cricket and one of his claims to fame was ‘playing at Wimbledon’ in a junior tennis tournament. He was also good at chess and had a head for mathematics and statistics which he carried through into his career.
Within weeks of leaving school Dad began National Service with the Army and not long after returning to civilian life his father died leaving him to care for a grieving mother and a household his insurance clerk’s salary could not sustain.
These formative experiences must have contributed to the anxiety that accompanied him most of his life and to episodes of what we would now call clinical depression.
He was from a generation that had different insights to mine about such things and above all recognised the importance of drawing on inner strength and determination and waiting for better times to return.
He tried not to dwell on the past and always held on to those things that were important to him, especially family.
He was English (not British) as he would emphasise on any official form that came his way and he carried red and black biros in his breast pocket in readiness along with notepaper, a diary, a 15cm ruler and his spectacles case.
Fitting that much into one pocket could be considered an art-form and I never worked out why he carried the spectacles case because his glasses never left this nose. I suppose you have to have somewhere to keep a 15 cm ruler?
He was also protestant, Church of England and that provided the confidence and moral authority to share his world view with anyone who crossed his threshold. I think most of us can say we’ve been on the receiving end of that world view which was always delivered with conviction and sincerity. Often the (bloody!) Anglo-Saxon version.
These views were underpinned by what the grandchildren know to be ‘grandpa’s sayings’ and which they are all able to recite:
Alex: Make the most of every day.
Elizabeth: If a jobs worth doing it’s worth doing properly
Sam: Right, now get it down on paper!
Richard: Never leave home without a handkerchief!
Dad was never in any doubt about his greatest achievement: finding and marrying Margaret.
They had 57 years together and even as an old man he could not believe his luck!
She was what brought shape and purpose and meaning and joy to his life.
That’s how it remained until the end even when Dad’s physical frailty and advancing dementia made it impossible for them to be together all the time.
It has been a great comfort to Mum to witness the care and love the staff at Haldane House showed to Dad during the 20 months it was his home. Their warm welcome during family visits; the many ways in which they preserved Dad’s dignity and the manner in which his final illness and passing was allowed to be a time of peace, reassurance and of family coming together.
We are all very grateful.
Flawed – perhaps
Idiosyncratic – certainly
Loved and remembered – undoubtedly
Sleep well Dad. See you on the other side…
RM 5/3/2019