My wonderful dad died recently. He was a good man, and had a good end. May we all give and receive such love - and know such depth of faith.
We did attempt to livestream the service on Thursday August 22nd - but it didn't work. The signal in church was bad and it cut out after 10 minutes. I wanted to share as much as I could of the service though for friends and family who weren't able to be there. Below is the Eulogy that my brother James and I delivered - and links to the music the choir sang.
I was so glad James was articulate what I felt unable to say about dad's example of faith. He seemed so ordinary, and considered himself an ordinary chap - but he really was quite the most extraordinary man. The service was wonderful and we're so grateful to dad's church family - our siblings in Christ - at St Mary's for all their love and support.
Processional music:
O God you search me and you know me (Psalm 139) by Bernadette Farrell
First hymn - Come Down O Love Divine (Down Ampney) sung here by the choir of Kings.
Psalm 121 - I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills (Barry Rose)
Reflection music: What a wonderful world - sung by Kings Men
Second Hymn - The day thou gavest Lord is ended
Anthem - Lead me Lord, SS Wesley
Nunc Dimitis - Stanford in B Flat
Recessional Music: In a world where people walk in darkness
Edward Christopher Hargrave 1939-2024 Eulogy
Rachel Hi, I’m Rachel. Chris’s daughter.
Firstly I wanted to say how lovely it is to see you all here. Particularly those of you stood behind me in the swishy robes - you could say choristers “ancient and modern” if you’ll forgive me – and it’s wonderful that you’re here.
Secondly I wanted to say that I don’t want to do this.
That was what I said to dad when we were stood in the porch here at St mary’s on a hot July day in 2001. Fortunately I wasn’t talking about getting married – I wanted to do that. I was talking about singing the solo in the anthem that the then director of music, Keith Brown, had written for us to sing specially for the occasion. I was supposed to get to make my own mind up about whether I wanted to sing on the day – and I decided I couldn’t. And my lovely gentle dad sai: “Tough – it’s in the speech – you’re doing it.!
It's in the speech – so here we go.
Dad – Edward Christopher Hargrave – was born in 1939 to Ella and Edward Hargrave. Edward senior was the Vicar of Roberttown at the time. Edward went to be an Army Chaplain in 1943 when dad was 4, and was away till 1946, which can’t have been easy.
Dad didn’t tell lots of childhood stories, but he did talk about the winter of 1946-47 when the snow was so deep they built igloos in the vicarage garden. Dad’s sledge is one of the heirlooms we still have in our vicarage – I’ve been planning to turn it into a pan rack for years. He talked about long summers in Appleby with his cousins, fishing with Bill and rather un-sportingly waiting to pop rabbits as the fields were harvested.
They were at Roberttown until 1949, then Drighligton from 1949 until 1956 – when fatefully for all of us Edward senior became vicar of Mirfield when dad was 15.
Dad was always a good singer – but the childhood story that went with that wasn’t such a jolly one. He obviously had a voice, and was taken down to Cambridge to try out for one of the choirs, I think Kings. The problem was nobody had really explained to 7-year-old dad what he was doing, what was expected of him, or anything. This experience stayed with him, in the way that being wrong-footed often does.
Though he could obviously sing, he hadn’t been taught to read music. Dad maintained to the end that he still couldn’t read music. But he knew when it went up, when it went down, when notes were long or short and whether there were big gaps between them or little ones – so I’m not sure what magic he thought the rest of us knew that he didn’t.
Dad went to Leeds Grammar School – catching the train to school throughout his teens – but thanks to being hospitalised with appendicitis during his exams, he rather under performed, and didn’t really have a sense of he wanted to do next. It was his mum Ella who knowing he rather liked geography, spotted an advert in the paper for jobs with the Ordinance Survey.
Dad got the job, and worked there throughout his career. He was given permission to complete 3 years training with the OS and so didn’t go on National Service until he was 21, training at Newbury and then going to serve in Singapore. After his two years he was invited to stay on for a third year but with the Military Police – but dad liked the idea of coming home, and didn’t like the idea of being that unpopular.
Dad was a son of the Vicarage. It’s sometimes said that Vicarage kids grow up wild (I’m not looking at the front row here at all). I don’t think anyone would accuse dad of that – but when my boys were little he would tell them that they didn’t have to do what other people told them because their mum was a vicar – and this specifically related to being forced to dance with people you didn’t want to dance with. Obviously another case of being wrong-footed that he never forgot.
Dad met Wendy Parker at a garden party at a house on Parker Lane, here in Mirfield. She was behind a stall and he brought her a cup of tea and asked her out. She said yes and their first date was to Mirfield’s very own monastery – the Community of the Resurrection –to their Commemoration Day event. Romantic fools!
When dad left for Singapore, his mum Ella said to Wendy “I don’t know what you’re crying for – he’s not getting married until he’s at least 35”. They wrote to eachother throughout his time on National service and when he came home dad was delighted to prove his mother wrong.
Their first date when he got back was Chinese food in Roundhay Park and Elvis at the cinema. So it wasn’t all monks. Their courting years were happy times, with the whole gang – Susan & Roy, Ian and the rest piling into the back of the Mulligans plumbing van to go round to each other’s houses – sharing meals and singing round the piano.
They married in April 1965 here at St Mary’s on Easter Tuesday. You’ll see the beautiful picture of them on the order of service – standing on a spot you can still see from their apartment window at Marmaville Court.
After honeymoon in Cambridge, Dad and mum set up home together in a brand-new house in Roberttown where they met Jean & John Rowley. Jean and John were to become lifelong friends, and godparents to James & Rachel.
Mum and dad lived there for just over 4 years, but wanted to be back in Mirfield, closer to St Mary’s because life revolved around church. They moved to Dunbottle Lane and this was home when they brought James and Rachel home to make their family complete.
Dad would tell you that he never gained an ounce of weight throughout his working life, because of all the walking. Making maps involved a lot of leg work, and dad loved that. In fact walking, often following a map, sometimes cursing the farmers who put fences up that weren’t on the map – was a significant feature of our childhood holidays. But making maps also involved technology. Dad embraced new things. He was fascinated by the computer technology coming in to his field, and he became someone who trained others – often working away in Southapmton when we were very little as part of this work. It became something that dad and James very much had in common. There were home computers in the house back when they only communicated in what sounded like angry electronic morse code on cassette tape.
He had been a maker of cine-films and had been into recording on quarter inch reel-to-reel tape. The films were mostly of family, but there were recordings of the choir – and memorably he recorded Patrick Stewart when he came to St Mary’s to perform his one man show of A Christmas Carol in 1987.
This led on to being a video enthusiast. Dad recorded both our weddings, making special tripods to attach to wooden screens, spending hours editing material. He revisited the slides, tape and film of earlier years and digitised all of it. I have no idea where any of it is but it’s all there somewhere!
Dad was the kind of man who would turn his hand to most things. He wouldn’t have said he was a carpenter – but he built wardrobes – we wouldn’t have said he was a decorator, but he was brilliant at it and was the family go-to for decorating help for a long time. I remember him making the most amazing candles to sell at the St Mary’s Craft Fair too.
Dad and mum bought a caravan when we were very little – and the “mobile passion killer” as apparently dad called it, took us all around the country – for some brilliant holidays. Key memories were every day ending with dad reading to us. It was supposed to send us to sleep, but he should have read less comedy. I remembering him crying laughing as he read Maureen Lipman.
And of course, dad’s Heath Robinson inventions to go with the caravan – most memorably a shower in a toilet tent – which involved standing in a washing up bowl and giving yourself a good dousing with a pump action plant sprayer. But the caravan and it’s successors was such an important part of their friendships with Aunty Jean & Uncle John, Aunty Greta and Uncle John who they travelled all over with as life went on.
In 1981 we moved to St Paul’s Road - with dad’s mum in a granny flat, then mum’s mum in a static caravan, Uncle Kenneth in the dining room converted to a bedsit and Aunt Jessica pretending she didn’t live with us while spending months at a time in the static’s spare bedroom. Apparently we had other family queueing up to move in too. Dad was fortunate to be able to take early retirement from the Ordnance Survey, and together mum and dad took care of the generation we always referred to as the golden oldies.
We also got dad’s beloved dog – Shep. Having a dog was another of his mum’s “Thou shalt nots” when dad was young - dad had always wanted one and he loved her very much.
Mum and dad also spent years between them serving as Church Wardens, on the Choir Guild, contributing to craft fairs, train exhibitions, heritage events, concerts – you name it they made it happen or helped it happen. Life revolved around church – so much so that I only know how to cook a good Christmas turkey if it goes in on a low light after midnight mass.
Mum described dad as a brilliant husband and father, proud
of his beautiful grandchildren. She said
“I was fortunate to be able to marry my best friend, my soul mate and true
companion. I couldn’t have been more blessed.” He was a gentleman, and a truly
gentle man.
James I’m James. Chris’s son.
What can I say about Chris. Apparently when planning his funeral service - and we were left with highly detailed plans with music, readings and everything chosen - he suggested that there wouldn’t be much to say for his Eulogy. Rachel’s reaction to that was well have you met your children! When Rachel and are around there is always a lot to say…. But typically, Dad was being modest. There is a lot to say about Chris.
That’s what everyone called him although actually his first name was Edward. But Edward was his dad’s name so naturally he became Chris. Christopher.
A fitting name for my dad, literally “bearer of Christ”. And that was who my Dad was. His faith wasn’t just important to him. It was him. And he lived that faith all his life in a way that defined him. Walking the walk not just talking the talk.
Dad embraced being a Christian not with big shows but thoughtfully, intelligently, humbly. As St John said By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.
Dad was someone that brought peace and tried to bring people together rather than divide them.
On the face of it, Dad appeared to be quite traditional, and he rightly valued traditional music and liturgy, but he also embraced the new things in a way sometimes others struggled with. Just as happy singing a new song from Songs of Praise (back in the day that was new!) as he was with a medieval anthem. I noticed he chose both old and new hymns for this service.
This open mindedness didn’t just apply to church but to his life and the way we were brought up. Right till the end my dad was interested in new technology. Reel to Reel tape recorders back in the day but I noticed a brand-new OLED TV when I visited the flat most recently! He had recently installed an electric car charger in his garage.
Back when Dad was working in the Ordnance Survey, I remember him telling me that he was going out in an unmarked van with aerials on the roof to trial a new technology developed by the US military. That technology was GPS, something today we use all the time but back then it sounded like magic!
Dad loved new things, new ideas and new people.
I rarely heard him swear or raise his voice, but he did. Usually when yet another car didn’t work “they put my name on it in the factory” he would say after using other words I’ll not repeat.
Dad was a man who showed that being a man isn’t about bravado or toxic masculinity but love and kindness. In this he showed what real strength is and as his son I value that example.
He was, of course married to Wendy my Mum for very nearly 60 years. Knowing he might not make it to 60 years he bought my mum a ring for their diamond anniversary in a typically lovely gesture.
As well as people who knew him well, I have had a number of messages from people who met Dad maybe once or twice sometimes decades ago and all remember him fondly and remember his kindness.
We all need to be a bit more Chris sometimes. To bring peace and avoid divisiveness, to remain open to new people, things and ideas and to remember true strength is love and kindness.
Dad was a lovely man who leaves a legacy that will live on in all of us that knew him be that for a long time or just a moment in time.
When I came into the hospice on the final day Rachel told me that the nurses had put on fifties and sixties pop music and asked if that was Dad’s thing. That was kind of them, but it really wasn’t his thing. Rachel asked me to mess around with the tech and to put on something he would like more. I found some mellow classical music and then Evensong from St Albans. He made it through the whole service right until the organ voluntary.
I know Dad put a lot of thought into choosing the music and readings for this service today. He’s still sending all of us a message in the gentle but effective way he always did.
Dad was a proud godfather to Gary, Richard, Mark and Nicholas, Michael & Jonathan, much loved husband to Wendy and dad to James & Rachel and father-in-law to Claire & Simon, grandad to Kirsty, Thomas, Owen, Isaac, Felix and Jonah, and great-grandad to Erin & Orla.
Rachel Firth
James Hargrave
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