Father and Son

It really all went very well. As well as such things can be expected, I do think. The people at the Raeburn made something which could have been a very sad occasion into exactly what I wanted - a celebration of Robbie’s short life. I may be left with some immense sadness, but that was as good as it could get, without a doubt.  



First of all can I say thanks to all of you for coming along today on behalf of Gill, Eileen and myself. It really is very much appreciated.
 
There have been many difficult events in the past few weeks, and this morning was certainly one of them. And now this. I’ve only done a funeral eulogy once before and I think it went tolerably well. Well, until I came to the final line which one of his daughters had asked me to say - He was very much loved and he’ll be missed by us all. Innocuous enough, but I could feel my voice breaking as I said it. That is what I’ve found over the past four weeks – expressing a simple heartfelt sentiment can feel like stepping on a landmine. 
 
So that was difficult enough Fred was over 90 whereas I have a need and a desire to say something about the passing of my own son, who was only 34. Not something I’d ever rehearsed. Not something anyone would ever wish to do.
 
In fact I remember just a couple of weeks ago we called in here to check it out as a possible venue for this memorial and it seemed perfect – Robbie had worked here, the staff were friendly, we could get a bar, a buffet, a screen , music… everything… but then what? 
 
Over this period, Robbie has gone round and round in my mind. The unknowable nature of his decisions and the path his life took. I’ve examined it from every angle. But ultimately as Larkin called it, it’s been an arid interrogation. 
 
It’s over and we have photos, a few paintings, some writing, but what we in abundance, is memories. 
 
The last period has been difficult, particularly for those of us closest to Robbie. There have been some good times of course – I remember he so much enjoyed a fortnight staying in Copenhagen with Kamille, cycling about the City,  and more recently when he was sending me videos of cooking down at Portobello with Mena. He always loved cooking – something he got from his Mum. But now it feels for me that the recent past has dropped away and I remember again that wee boy, and the young lad growing into a young man. And I have so many rich memories to treasure. Walking to Parkhead age seven to see Hearts lift the cup in 98. Climbing up the gully into the mist on Buachaille Etive, and then it clearing all around as we got to the summit. He was a good pal.
 
And you all will have your memories too. And I have memories of many of you here with Robbie: it seems slightly invidious to mention people but from his first days, his best friend William born two doors along just a few months before. And of course mummy Clare. Taking James and Ali up to the ski slope at Hillend. Callum coming round to play music and with our lego. Tom, Mike, Ben and Lizzie up at George’s cottage. The football Dads watching the Roseburn Colts, the Beechwood under-13s. And later his cycling to the Hebrides with Jack and others. To Killin with Josh and his friends. Art with Iain Cackette and Mr Gibbs’ duck. Trips to Colonsay and the Eden Festival and Ivan, Peggy, Rachel and Beth. And not forgetting T in the Park where he somehow met his sister. More than I can mention.
 
It’s the young people that I really want to address: you will hopefully look forward thirty, forty, fifty years carrying forward your memories and I do hope that sometime you’ll find room to remember my son as he was. I would like that very much. 
It may sound trite, but he’ll not grow old as we who are left… you know the rest.
 
Now for those of you who perhaps don’t remember Robbie: perhaps you’re just one of my friends and your memory isn’t what it was, or you’re here with a partner, or you’ve wandered in from the street hearing there was a free bar, let me plant a memory on you.
 
I always thought Robbie showed promise as a guitarist and I was gutted that I hadn’t uncovered anything of his playing on my camcorder archive. Until I found this. Warning: it’s from P7 so he was pretty young, and maybe worse, it’s Boston’s More than a feeling. Hey ho.
Take it away maestro.
 
PLAY VIDEO
 
Applause! 
 
I tell you If I’d had a bit longer to prepare for this I’d have got a merch stall organised and we’d be handing out the tote bags.
 
People, thanks for coming. And please, treasure those memories.