My Tribute to My Perfect Husband

This is my original version of what I wrote before it was edited to be read out at John's cremation service.

I have put off writing this for fear that it would be too miserable, or too clichéd. But one night recently I couldn't sleep, so I wrote down my thoughts and I hope it reflects even a tiny fraction of the man he is.

Many people know John, and many more have crossed his path. They each know a different version of him.

His work colleagues know John as thoughtful, diplomatic, funny, cheeky - always on the scrounge for free office food. Several say he was the best boss they’ve ever had - high praise indeed. He was challenging but fair and concerned about his team’s welfare inside and outside of work. He was at the company for so long that almost everyone came across him at some point.

St James church know him as friendly and approachable, effortlessly chatting to people of all ages and backgrounds. He played the organ skilfully but with mischievous complaints about modern hymns. People enjoyed it when he chose something for fun after the service, and he enjoyed knowing that he could bring joy through music. He even got a round of applause for a, perhaps inappropriate, rendition of Bach's Tocatta and Fugue one Sunday!

His friends know him as fun, quick with a joke, generous with time, whiskey and hosting darts nights and cocktail parties. He was easy going and good natured and enjoyed people in all their variety with a genuine curiosity.

His family know him as the black sheep - a man with ambition and drive which took him away from Yorkshire. He set himself goals and worked hard to achieve them. His upbringing instilled all the best qualities in him, making him a truly outstanding man - one of life's good people.

His daughters know him as always ready and willing with advice and practical help. He spent endless amounts of time with them as small children, at the park, on the beach, making things and fixing things. He loved them proudly and fiercely.

The girls' friends know John as Skinny Legend! He never took himself too seriously, able to laugh easily at his inner-geek and entertaining everyone.

But the John I know - the John I am lucky enough to call mine - is perfect. He was my partner in every adventure. When I said trespass with me to some amazing radio telescopes, he was there, nervous but quietly exhilarated. When I said let’s join a crowd to go skinny dipping on the autumn equinox, he was nervous and cold but elated. When I said let’s dress up as zombies to take part in an immersive event he was in his element. When I said let’s volunteer at the Covid vaccination centre he got stuck in, showing a caring and empathetic side that surprised and thrilled me. And when I said, on holiday in Italy, find me ‘that winding road with the trees growing along it’, he did! He took ALL my dreams, big and small, and he made them happen.

And after this last year we all know John as brave, courageous and resilient. Even in the face of incredible challenges, he approached life with humour, grace, and determination. He accomplished more while sick than many do in years of health, inspiring everyone around him with his strength and faith.

His medical team know him as engaging, grateful, and with a wry gallows humour. They saw John go from sick to well and back on a regular merry go round and still he would joke 'it's been a pleasure doing business with you'.

Most recently the palliative care team have known a snapshot of John as a patient who needed specialist care to meet his departure with dignity and with gentleness. But they didn’t see the whole picture. They didn’t know the John I know - they see only the suffering and the necessary path to end it. Sometimes their decisions were not ones I wanted to take, but I was being selfish - I was scared for the future without him, my chosen mate. They didn’t know the vibrant, intelligent, capable man I fell in love with - a life of value and meaning. And they didn’t see the old, satisfied, father-of-two-beautiful-brides that should have been - a life he deserved. I wasn't ready for the end to be hastened on. Life felt cheap in those moments - even though I could see that he was suffering I pleaded for something more to be done - his was a life worth fighting for: a future worth every possible effort, but ultimately a life where John decided that the balance had tipped againt him and it was his choice to let it go.

But only I know the reality of his final weeks. It created a whole new dimension to our love that has been both overwhelming and humbling. I am honoured to have been able to care for John through his toughest days in order to help him meet his final goal of being at home until the end.

I love him - a love that takes a lifetime to develop - imperfectly perfect. One built on shared dreams, forgiveness, compromise and exploring our world together. The type of love where your heart sings with every smile, when you eagerly anticipate their home coming and melt into their embrace with a contented sigh, you are perfectly familiar with the fit of their hand in yours, and trust completely in who they are and everything they do. John described us during this last year as ‘being at one’. I wish we had stopped more over the years to take a breath and think ‘yes - this is good.’

Sometimes I am devastated by the fact that I will never again stand at the sink, feel his arms wrap round me and hear him say in awe, ‘wow look at that view, we are so lucky’. I can’t put my cold feet on him under the duvet and have him willingly warm them. And I cannot hold his hand as we stride out on his latest hill or beach walk. But grief only comes because love came first.

I wanted more - more hugs, more laughing, more adventures, more dreams ... more John.

John will always be one of life’s true treasures. He made the world brighter and more joyful. And if he inspired us all to live for the day, work towards our goals, be kinder to people or just to laugh at ourselves then perhaps he’s done what he was here to do and a lot of lives will be a little bit sweeter because of him.