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This is dedicated to the memory of my brother Anthony Prendergast who was killed in a road traffic accident on 18th September 2006. I decided to use MySpace as it allows virtually unlimited storage unlike dedicated memorial websites such as www.muchloved.com.I have tried to gather videos of musicians that I know that he loved and will add more from time to time.Eulogy for Anthony Prendergast
I would like to thank you all for coming today to my brother’s funeral. It is most gratifying, for the family, to see so many people here, it is obvious that he was much liked and respected. Some have come from long distances, Canada, Ireland, Wales, to name a few, to be here on this occasion. Needless to say, whether near or far your presence is greatly appreciated.
Firstly I would like to say a little about my brother’s demise. I expect that most of you know that he was involved in a road traffic accident in Basildon. He was crossing Great Oaks, opposite the ambulance station, on Monday 18th September, at about a quarter to eight in the evening, when he was run down by a car. He was about two thirds of the way across, when he was struck and personnel from the ambulance station and the fire station were on the scene within seconds. In spite of this, he was pronounced dead on arrival at Basildon Hospital. The accident is now the subject of a police investigation, which is still ongoing as I speak. I will only say that the road itself was well lit and, at that time of night, virtually empty, so I will leave you to draw your own conclusions. The driver was a 54 year old man, so hardly a boy racer, but we have had no indication, from the Police, of his physical or mental state at the time. I’ll say no more on the subject.
At times like these, one’s thoughts tend to go back to happier occasions. Whilst I was thinking back, my mother reminded me of an incident way back when I was about 8 and Anthony was about 6 years of age. She had gone to Pitsea Market, which is about 3 miles from home, on the bus with my sister and on the way back she was shocked to see me and Anthony waving at her from the pavement. For some reason, lost in the dim mists of time, we’d decided to follow them on a rickety old tricycle. I was doing the pedalling and Anthony was clinging on for dear life, on the back. You tell that to the kids today and they wouldn’t believe you. I hardly believe it myself actually, come to that, and I was there!!
Another time, myself, Anthony and my youngest brother John were in Ireland on a driving holiday in the late 70’s. Anthony and I went into a bar, well I say bar, it was more like a hardware shop with a bar out the back, at about 10 in the morning. The shopkeeper said that the bar wasn’t open yet, but we could have one while we were waiting. I still don’t know to this day if he was being ironic or not. Needless to say, we got our drink and several more to boot. We saw a lot of Ireland on that holiday and lot of pubs as well. I know that Anthony loved Ireland and I reckon that it was really his spiritual home.
Anthony didn’t always have the best of health, suffering from asthma pretty much all his life. He tried many times to give up smoking, without success, finally succeeding on New Year’s day 2005. He was immensely proud that he had finally conquered the evil weed after so many years, in the expectation that it would add many years to his life. He had just come out of York Hospital and he was recuperating from that when he was killed. He had also recently had a CAT scan and was given a clean bill of health apart from some complications in his lungs, which were relatively minor.
My brother, as I said before, was loved and respected by many. He seemed to have an especial affinity for children, I know that my two sons Paul and Joshua loved to see him when he came down to Sheffield from York. He was a kind man who loved nothing better than to help others, he had a strong moral compass which only occasionally veered from true North. I have this abiding image of him sitting doing the Times or Guardian crossword, which he seemed to be able to polish off with ease. I have always been useless at cryptic crosswords myself. He will be sadly missed.
I was looking for poems on the internet and I came across these two, the first called simply How? was written by an American John P M Dillon and the second called One Final Gift by an Irish poet called D H Cramer.
How?
How do you tell someone
Your brother has died?
How do you describe the loss inside?
What words can explain your eyes full of pain
And your fear of forgetting
The good times?
Do you share your memories
With friends you don't really know?
Or do you lock your face into the rictus of a smile?
What questions can you ask
That won't burden them too much?
Inside, you know the answers.
But time does not soothe the impatient man
though its healing powers are of legend.
Nor do platitudes appease him,
Though they are voiced with the best of intentions.
Life is for the living, who remember the dead.
But how can you live surrounded by death?
How can you share your unhappiness, your regrets
When you hate to intrude on their fun,
Their cheerfulness.
Who do you tell when there's no one to turn to?
And how do you tell them
your brother is dead?
The Final Gift
Scatter me not to the restless winds
Nor toss my ashes to the sea.
Remember now those years gone by
When loving gifts I gave to thee.
Remember now the happy times
The family ties are shared.
Don't leave my resting place unmarked
As though you never cared.
Deny me not one final gift
For all who came to see.
A simple lasting proof that says
I loved and you loved me.
(by D.H.Cramer)Irish Mental Health Hotline
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