First of all, I'd like to thank you all for coming today, to join me in saying goodbye to my father. I know that, if you had asked him, Dad wouldn't have expected you to attend. Indeed, he might have preferred to have no service at all. But it heartens me to see that Dad can leave the world with the well-wishes of so many others, and that he can be well remembered.
Some of you will be lucky enough to remember Dad when he was in his prime, in the good old days. Some of you, including myself, will only have seen glimpses of his old form in recent years. I think we all know about his decline in health. But that's really not something I'd like to dwell on today. Instead, I'd like you to join me this morning in remembering David Clark: a father, a husband, a colleague and a friend.
Because that's what Dad would have wanted. He was a proud man, and it seems to me that he's always lived life with dignity. To be strong, to live as one chooses, to earn one's own keep, and to tackle one's own problems rather than just grumble about them. These are good values, and virtues which I try to live by myself. In recent years, I don't really think that anyone has had greater cause for complaint than Dad. But I can't think of a single one he's voiced.
Well, alright, apart from organic carrots, the national cricket team, bank holidays and mobile telephones. But we can give him those. When it came to the important stuff, Dad would always keep his peace, always show a strong face. He's hold his head high and turn out as well as he possibly could. That's how I choose to remember him: strong, and dignified.
In his day, Dad would oversee international textile sales of millions of pounds. He toured Europe and Russia, gathering a dossier of international clients which would put James Bond to shame. Not bad for a skinny lad from Knaresborough. It seems to me that Dad really made success for himself. That success gave Daniel and I the best possible start in life, for which we'll always be thankful.
Dad always had a brilliant mind. He was a deep thinker and a very intelligent man. That's something else my brother and I can be grateful for, as we're both blessed with some of that intelligence. History was probably his speciality. For pretty much every holiday I can remember, Daniel and I would have to sit through a not-so-short lecture on the histories of the countries we visited; complete with diagrams scrawled on the backs of envelopes, or on napkins.
Music was also very important to Dad, as it is to me. Many of Dad's heroes were musicians. It's comforting to think that he's somewhere with them now. Maybe playing rythm guitar with Johnny Cash or Hank Williams in heaven's house band. I would have liked to play a selection of his favourite songs, as we said goodbye today. I think that would mean more to him than any words I can say. But I don't know what those favourites were, and it's a little dificult to sample sixty years of country & western music in a short fortnight. So I've tried to choose some music I think he'd appreciate.
Saying that, it would be a disservice to Dad to have none of his heroes present today. So Dad will soon be carried away with the voice of Willie Nelson, who we'll hopefully hear from soon.
And all that remains is for me to say goodbye.
Goodbye, Dad.
This page will automatically play Willie Nelson's beautiful song 'Blue Eyed Tears In The Rain'. It will be forever known to me as the song that I didn't play at my father's funeral service.