A Eulogy

I had to read this out loud back in December, but as I’ve waded through the paperwork of a life I thought I would post it somewhere for posterity.

When he was in hospital this last time, Dad was sleeping a lot – they’d said they didn’t expect him to make it. One evening I took a bible in to read to him. I didn’t know what else to do. I only knew Psalm 23, so I started with the next one Psalm 24, and it rang very true.
Who may ascend the mountain of the Lord?
Who may stand in his holy place?
The one who has clean hands and a pure heart,
who does not trust in an idol
or swear by a false god.
They will receive blessing from the Lord
and vindication from God their Saviour.
I thought that pretty much sums up Dad.

Roy Wilson was born on 21st April 1936 in Yiewsley and was part of the Methodist church there. The church was always an important big part of his life.
He attended boarding school but was also a keen tennis player and played at all levels, including at Wimbledon in the men’s and mixed doubles between 1950 and 1956. His eyes started to trouble him though, and he had to stop playing. So he took up table tennis instead.
On June 6th 1964, He married Eileen Sherlock at the church in Chipstead Valley Road in Coulsdon and as they wanted a home of their own, and knew they would never have afforded one in Surrey, they moved to Enderby, buying the house in Kipling Drive that they spent the rest of their lives in, brand new for £2,460.
They attended the Methodist church in Enderby. Back in 1964 it needed a lot of work done on it, both structurally and cosmetically. And Roy and Eileen got involved from the start.
Every Saturday there would be fund-raising coffee mornings, together with bric-a-brac stalls and a raffle. Roy and Eileen suggested that as there was a reasonable kitchen they could do hot meals in winter and cold in the summer together with a dessert and a cup of tea. This became very popular with the older people of the village as they would do their shopping in the Co-op and then meet up for lunch and a chat.
Roy was the church treasurer for many years and Eileen was a steward and they both worked incredibly hard for the church.
Roy worked for Trusthouse Forte as a hotel accountant, then went to work at a boutique luxury hotel called Stapleford Hall, and then – in what was probably his dream job – he became the accountant for Age Concern in Leicester. An organisation that does so much good work, including for Roy and Eileen in their own twilight years.
However, when the charity sector found itself strapped for cash, the charity had to let him go and he then went to work as the accountant for an engineering and manufacturing company in Hinckley until he retired.
His other passions were steam trains and stamp collecting, he decided to specialise in collecting the stamps of Lichtenstein – for reasons known best to himself – and he regularly went to the Leicester philatelic society – “Stamp Club” as he called it.
The years passed, Roy and Eileen’s 40th anniversary was in 2004 and the family a huge get together. They just passed their 58th anniversary in June this year.
Sadly, in the last few years Eileen has been affected badly by Alzheimers disease and after looking after her for a long time – longer than was good for him – the decision was made to move her to a care home in January 2021. A hard decision for Roy, he went to see her every week without fail until he was taken into hospital earlier this year. Eileen isn’t here today as she’s not well enough to be told of her husband’s death or to attend the funeral.
Roy cared for Eileen till the end, we went to see her for her birthday in September when he had briefly been discharged from hospital. He was quite specific as to what type of cake they should arrange for her for her birthday. He wanted it to be strawberry.

I saw Dad a lot in the last two years. Sorting out paperwork and finances. I called it “Dadmin”, but while trailing around the banks was a hassle, it did mean we spent more time together. It became a bit of a joint project. With hindsight it was a blessing – even if I moaned about traffic and the journey and the bureaucracy to anyone who would listen.
I was telling someone recently about my earliest memory.
Mum was in hospital just after having Zoe and Dad and I were going in to see her and my new baby sister. My memory is that Dad bought Mum a new mop as a present – one of those ones that you can squidge out with a handle on the side.
For a woman with a new baby that would have been the worst present ever. Looking back, I’m sure Dad had probably broken the old mop cleaning the floor, and we had just bought a new one from the hardware store on the way into Leicester in the car. When we got home that evening there was a power cut and we had toast and marmite done under the grill and a jug of hot chocolate made on the stove by candlelight for tea.
Dad was in hospital a lot this year, he never really recovered from the fall when he was weeding the garden, and the heart operation complications that affected his mobility. Everything seemed to knock him back a little bit more.
I was looking for things to say today to finish. And I found this poem.

God saw you getting tired
And a cure was not to be
So He put His arms around you
And whispered ‘Come with Me.’