Ailsa's eulogy for Robert's funeral
2016 February 10
Created by Ailsa 9 years ago
Although I am unable to speak these words
myself to you today, I literally, and I do mean literally, have the hardest act
to follow. How would one stand up in front of what I knew would be a packed
hall to talk about a man who never failed to capture an audience, with a stage presence
that could fill the largest theatre right to the very back row of the balcony?
Perhaps it would be possible if I had even a
tenth of the fortitude that Robert showed from the moment that his illness was
diagnosed last April. We were shocked and horrified by what lay in front of us,
but Robert refused to take any of it lying down. Determined to continue to live
his life to the fullest of fullness as always, he contrived, sometimes quite
astonishing, ways to work around what he dismissively referred to as the bad
hand of cards he’d been dealt.
Robert’s world became smaller as his illness progressed
and stole so much from him. As I work from home, we spent more time together
than ever before. When we were able to ignore the stress of what we were
dealing with, I felt lucky to have that time to enjoy his presence in the house,
as he went about never-ending DIY, sorting and re-sorting his beloved fishing
tackle and generally tinkering around the place - when he wasn’t telling me yet
another slightly elongated tale, complaining that it was time for The Archers every time Radio 4 was turned on, or
persuading me that I really wanted to make him a bacon roll. I feel very selfish
for being grateful for that extra time we spent together, because I knew that
Robert didn’t want to be limited; he wanted to be working, touring, gossiping, telling
stories and gathering new ones, learning, fishing of course, and doing just all
the general Robert-like things that went with him.
Although cancer stole so much from Robert, until
the very end he made an extremely conscious choice to stop it from stealing his
kindness, his intellect, his sense of ever blackening humour and his charm. I
cannot count the number of times I rolled my eyes as yet another nurse
responded with what can only be described as a ‘preen’ to a cheeky twinkle or compliment
– and that was only the male ones. Particularly the male ones ... When a lesser person would have snapped, Robert carried on
stoically, bravely, uncomplainingly and mostly undiminished, never allowing his
illness to gain the upper hand until he was simply unable to beat it into
submission any longer.
There are three wonderful people here today
thanks to Mr Jones. You know Robert as a friend or colleague and often both. Caitlin,
Tasha, Barnaby and I were privileged to know him in a different way. Our house
was filled with the laughter, stories and chat that many of you enjoyed, but in
addition, his children were blessed with a fantastic, adored dad and there are
no words for what he means to me. We have lost someone who anchored us, supported
us, cheered us on, loved us; who always knew when we needed, as Barnaby would
say, a kick up the jackside, and when we needed a cuddle. We will miss him so
very very much.