Derek Gordon Pearson

A TOUCHING JOURNEY FROM TWO METRES APART A testimony of God's Grace and the power of Church prayers - honouring my father I cannot remember a time when isolation brought us so close together. When staying at home made us more eager to be outside. When queuing for shopping made us buy for others who couldn’t get out. When the sun shone with hope for the day ahead and rainbows were in every window as a sign of promise to come. When homecomings were all arranged by telephone and email and public gatherings were reduced to 10 people placed 2 metres apart. What follows is a testimony to everyone that made my fathers and my families day, one of the most honourable I will ever remember. From the Drs and nurses on ward 23 North Tyneside hospital, the nurse who sat patiently while I called the bedside phone, to the one who called me late at night - we thank you. From my own family who paid respects and travelled during lock down, to friends who rallied with messages of support on Facebook and two churches who prayed and for the random acts of kindness - that brought Glory to God and the very best of Saints my Dad. We had managed to get flowers for the casket, but all the florists were closed - so I picked all the daffodils in my garden. I put notes through the door of 20 neighbours in Dad’s street, explaining that due to restrictions, our family would not be able to meet inside Dads house together as were 10. So we would stand outside from 12.15 and await his arrival. We assured the neighbours that we would adhere to government guidance and not touch or comfort each other and stand two metres apart. To this day, since lock down I have not hugged my family. I asked the neighbours if they could spare some daffodils from their garden, to place them on the walls and we would collect them. By 12.25 around 20 neighbours had gathered outside their houses and the basket of flowers multiplied to a gorgeous bouquet. The sky was blue, not a cloud in the sky, only a chorus of birds singing. As there was no traffic the funeral car stopped at the end of the road and the escort walked the length of the street in front of Dad. Everyone paid their respects, it was one of the most profound moments of my life, more like a state parade. Cherry Blossom fell from the trees as we drove past our old house of 40 years, and the North Sea was blue and calm along the coastal drive to the Crematorium - where more friends were waiting, unable to join us in body, just in spirit. Dad had chosen his music carefully and explained its meaning to us, we were to play Bunk Johnson's Jazz rendition of “When the Saints go Marching In” for recessional music and to be glad for a great life lived. Later accompanying his journey, a couple from down the street, who didn’t know Dad, wrote and played a song for him and put in on CD through his door. Someone else I didn’t know from my own church sent us music as their children played “when the Saints” - including a trumpet, which Dad would have loved. Dad’s minister said some deeply moving words that reminded me that his journey has not ended, but that he rests with my Mum in a much better place. We will celebrate his life with his friends at a time we can hug, cry and remember him - but today a man could not be more honoured. A profound Thank you to you all who prayed for me personally and for my Dad. I am reminded that we are never alone when we have Jesus, walk in that confidence today, that whatever you face, God has been before you and Jesus walks with you.

A deeply sad day as we said farewell to my wonderful dad. I’m sure he loved every moment of it. A pure, crisp, cloudless sky. Many of his neighbours left daffodils on their walls for us to gather into a splendid floral tribute, and they lined the street to pay quiet respect to him as we set off. We drove slowly past our old family home as cherry blossoms danced around his carriage. It was a beautiful sight and I could just imagine him grinning from ear to ear with the perfect glory of it. The crematorium service was necessarily sparse but deeply moving; a three hanky job for me. I could feel my dad’s presence, as if I was still twelve or thirteen years old, and he was there to calm, and protect as always. He waved goodbye to the theme of “Oh When The Saints Go Marching In”. He insisted we be happy for a life well lived. The minister summed it up beautifully when she said “grief is the price we pay for love”. And so it is. We love you dad. Night night xx.

Daddy's girl xxx

Dear Dad, You were full of smiles and welcomes for everyone. I'm so very lucky to have had you for such a long time. You left us too soon, we hoped for more crazy adventures on your scooter. Your support for Mum in her later years was honorable, and I'm full of respect for your hopeful attitude to life. You gave your children and grandchildren the best you had - Love. You fully researched our family history and you were proud of who we were. Some tenuous links to the Shakespeare's and a hopeful link to the Earl of Craven (son of a Peir). There's no doubt you were a gentleman Sir! I take after you for your dislike of bananas! and I hope for more of your virtue and character. You'll always be ahead of me, my Knight rider....drive safe Carrie xxx

Dear Dad, I have been so lucky to have you as my father, someone who I have always looked up to and tried to measure up against, very often falling short. I was trying to think of even a single time when you lost your temper with me or disapproved of something I'd done, and although there must have been moments, that fact I can't think of one, is a testament I hope to your constant good nature, love and support my whole life. Thanks you for being my Dad. xx