Our Dad

Thank you for coming today to say goodbye to our lovely Dad. And thank you to those from Ireland, Nevis, America and all over who have offered thoughts and well-wishes to us as a family, both personally and on Dad’s memorial website. Please accept our thanks for the generous donations to the British Heart Foundation. That means a great deal to us all as a family. We also send our heartfelt condolences to Kevin, Martin and Sandra Wright in Brackna, our relatives in Galway and their families on the very sad passing of Big Joe. May Joe, and all loved ones who have passed, rest in peace.

As you know, Dad had a heart condition along with some other illnesses that meant he spent his last few weeks in hospital. But he felt he had a fighting chance as he had support from all the family, with everyone rooting for him, and Dad loved hearing the well-wishes from family and friends when we visited him in hospital. We’re not sure what his fellow patients thought when we listed all the names but Dad always said, “there's nothing more important than family”. Even though Dad was unwell, it was still a shock that he passed as the doctors were beginning to talk about his return home. Sadly, early in the morning of the 20th of October, he suffered a heart attack and his condition deteriorated quickly after that. But we can be comforted that he passed peacefully, and surrounded by family with his big hands being held. We feel we have cried oceans of tears and as Rob and I hugged at Addenbrooke’s hospital we both said it was a day that we never wanted to come. But we would like to send our thanks to the staff at West Suffolk and Addenbrooke’s hospitals for their efforts to treat Dad and for the kindness they offered him and all the family.

Dad was a true gentleman, a gentle giant who lived a rich life, doing and achieving so many things, and enriching so many other people’s lives, that we can’t possibly capture it all here. Each one of you will have your own special memories of Dad and we can be certain that each one of you holds a special place in your heart for him. All we can do is offer some of our own thoughts and memories. In any case, Dad wouldn’t want us to make much of a fuss about him. He always said he didn’t want us to be sad about his death, he wanted us to celebrate his life.

That, we will do. But, Dad, we can’t help but be sad as we will miss you. 

Whenever we think about Dad, our first image is of him smiling and making a joke about something. He loved having the craic and was in his element in the parties we had with family and friends. And there were so many parties. Sometimes we used to wish everyone would go home to their own homes to let us get some sleep. Growing up, we were always visiting or being visited by the Hennessys or the Wrights or the Byrnes, and every occasion was an opportunity to play Irish music and, with the Jameson flowing, tell stories about ‘home’ and the mad days that Mum, Dad and everyone had shared when they first came to London. Mum and Dad loved the song, “Where Did You Meet Her, I Met Her in The Galtymore” as that was a favourite haunt for young Irish people living in London. We always thought Mum and Dad met at Auntie Betty and Uncle Brendan’s wedding – 2 brothers marrying 2 sisters – and when we asked how they really met when we were over in Galway with Ken and Maureen, Dad just said, “it was love at first sight for me.” Dad was a truly, gentle, man.

Dad loved to sing along to the music at the parties and we occasionally persuaded him to give us his rendition of “The Galway Shawl” but, maddeningly, we will never know any more of his favourite DIY song “And the quare one’s name is Mary Jane” as he never sang anything more than the first line.

Apart from his occasional rendition of “The Galway Shawl”, Dad’s great gift to these occasions was his storytelling. He loved to tell them, usually playing up the absurd or foolish things people did, including himself. As a child growing up in Whitechurch aged about 11 or 12 he used to drive the tractor for Hanifin’s, one of the local farmers. Dad didn’t just drive the tractor though. Maurice Hanifin was a bit worried about driving and whenever he came to a crossroads, he used to ask Dad to manoeuvre the car, which of course Dad did with pleasure and, as the story goes, with skill. We were told Dad’s salary consisted of a glass of whiskey and some cigarettes: not the healthiest offer! 

We loved our visits to Ireland to see our family around Straffan, Celbridge and Athy and having the time to catch up with our grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins was always a real treat. Again, as Dad said, “there’s nothing more important than family”. There was always laughter with Dad and whenever in the company of Bob Kenny or Ken Fraser, the storytelling was at another level: you had to strap in for a rollercoaster ride of crying, roaring, side-splitting laughter. There are too many stories for us to share but we know one involved a real fight over a bun and another a failed trip to the lakes, sleep and a struggle to tie shoelaces.

In his later years, his favourite story must have been the one about the Napper Tandy: the story of how picking up a hitchhiker outside Athy led to Dad, Rob, and uncles Joe and Ken ‘having the craic’ in the Napper Tandy pub in Stradbally. Like all of Dad’s best stories, this one evolved over its many tellings – an exaggeration here, some poetic license there, a borrowed story from elsewhere – to the point that, even though Rob was there, he couldn’t tell you what really happened. But then he wouldn’t like to try. No-one could tell it like Dad, having the craic in the company of family and friends, Irish music playing, the Jameson flowing…

Even though Dad was fun-loving and fun to be with, he was also a serious man. He worked incredibly hard to provide such a lovely, lovely life for us, his family. He was in charge of million-pound contracts and completed calculations without the use of a calculator. He was great at helping (doing) Sue’s maths homework but she did have to question Dad’s skills when asked his date of birth a few days before he passed. Dad knew his date of birth but when asked how old he was Dad’s reply was 102! Although Dad worked evenings and weekends, he still made sure we went on family outings. Apart from the visits to the Hennessys, Wrights and Byrnes, and our summer holidays in Ireland, we had little family picnics, visits to the beach, to parks, and to numerous events, and sightseeing in London. We even went to Buckingham Palace to have afternoon tea with the Queen once. Unfortunately, she was away for the summer. So, no tea with the Queen was had. Her loss.

Dad’s dedication to us as a family showed us his love, his kindness, his support, his pride. This only increased as the family flourished and grew. First, Sue and Riva married and Dad became a Father-in-law. Dad was very proud of the 3-day wedding as he loved spending time with everyone and loved everyone enjoying themselves. He offered such tender loving care to the barrels of Guinness and beer in the garden, which made him very popular with the male members of our family and friends, perhaps less so with the females.

Along came Natasha and Wesley, and Dad became a Grandad – a role he took with pride, always happy to spend time with his grandchildren as he thoroughly enjoyed their company and was incredibly proud of them and everything they achieved. He then became Great Grandad when Charlie and Tasha had Remy. He thought Remy was going to be an intelligent lad, always watching and learning. It will be up to us now to teach Remy Dad’s quick method of counting to 100: 1, 2, miss a few, 99, 100. 

Dad was so very proud of us all, and loved and cared for us, proving it every day by always being ready to help and protect us, guide us, make us laugh, laugh with us, listen to us – well, at least listen to us as long as his hearing aids were working!

Dad was always a very practical man too, with a natural affinity for DIY and working with machines. This allowed him to put his famously big strong hands to great use, whether he was hanging wallpaper, sorting out the plumbing, or fixing the car. Those are the hands that all of us will have touched either as children holding Dad’s hands or with one of Dad’s firm handshakes or ‘handbreaks’. When we had an old banger – a Sunbeam Stiletto – fixing the car was practically a daily event. We must have spent more time pushing that car than driving in it. But, with Dad’s skills and hard work, we did at least manage some time driving from A to B before eventually getting a slightly more reliable old banger.

We can’t talk about Dad without mentioning two other vitally important things: sport and food. He liked to play hurling and Gaelic football and was very proud to represent Ardclough. He loved to tell us the stories of when living at home in Whitechurch he loaded up his younger brothers, Tony and Dessie, and younger sister Vera onto his bicycle to take them to the local matches for an afternoon of fun. Sport was something the whole of the Byrne family enjoyed. Dad’s favourite TV viewing was watching sports and chief among them were golf, boxing, Irish games and football. He liked to follow, controversially perhaps, Man United. He was especially happy to see the underdog do well. In sport, as well as in life, he always wanted fairness. Whether supporting the underdog and supporting Man United can be reconciled may be dependent on your point of view, but it worked for Dad. And he was grateful to Aunty Betty – the Sports desk, as he called her – as she would text the Sky channel numbers for the Irish games and football games.

As for food, like any good Irishman, Dad liked his bacon, cabbage and spuds. On family lunch outings, Dad would spend ages researching the menu, then he would always put down the menu and say, “I know what I’m having lads. I’ll have sausage and mash”. There may be a message in there about Dad: that he was always open to other options and points of view but, in the end, he knew his own mind and he knew what he liked.

Our Dad. A hardworking, loving, kind, caring gentle giant (with huge hands) who protected us and was always so very proud of us all. We will remember him for his wit, his love, his kindness, his generosity – as Dad would almost fight to get to pay the bill before we could – and of course those giant hands!

Goodbye Dad. Rest now in peace. Rest your tired hands and your tired body. We love you and we miss you; and, although our grief is still so very raw, we celebrate you too, but we will all miss seeing your smiling face.

Sue Knight and Rob Byrne, 16 November 2021