Oh man, I’ve typically got all the words in the world - but am struggling now.
He was the most relaxed man of all time, a man so laid back to be practically horizontal. I’m pleased to say I’m the perfect blend of my uptight cleanliness obsessed mother and Bernard, a man who had no greater priorities than a beer, a game of dominoes, a song at karaoke (“Dirty Old Town”) and a laugh with his mates.
A man who – even when his wife died – was reluctant to cry lest it show weakness, he wasn’t a man prone to show his emotions - but I remember how upset he was when Tara and I told him our IVF had failed. I can clearly remember the guttural sobbing when he realised that he’d never be a grandad, and how it broke our hearts.
We felt we’d let him down, although got some joy from bringing Rebel to him in his final months. I’d grown up with Mum and Dad’s adopting an array of Border Collies - he adored the fact that Rebel was part collie and that she greeted him on each meeting with enthusiastic slobbery kisses, which he’d half-heartedly bat away (secretly loving every moment).
A great thanks to all those who came to visit him in his final weeks, with every visit buoying him to keep him going a little longer, even when there was very little left of him. Dad beat his initial Duodenal Cancer prognosis by more than a year, and one of the last conversations we had was how proud he was of that. He was a stubborn old bugger, and we fought like cat and dog, but he taught me the joys of enjoying life and friendship. I’ll miss you, mate.
Bernard Court (1939-2024)
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