Mikael's funeral speech

My dad was the man with the biggest heart I'll ever know.

This may even be true for some of you, but what I am certain of is that my dad was one of few people who ranked *highest* amongst those that you respected.

He *earned* your respect, and quite effortlessly, because *he* was a true-blue friend, one you could rely upon, rain or shine.

He was also a gentleman, and his words were his promises.

He stuck to what he had spoken as best he could, because to *him*, showing you that he really cared, and *meant* what he said, was *truly* important to him.

Rare are such beings.

Having grown up under the roof of the riverside home that my dad was *so proud* to introduce to *all* who walked through its entrance, I have a unique perspective to share that no other can tell.

The man I knew had a *different* balance to his character than THAT of the man *you* all knew.

Each of us knew our *own* Keith, but irrespective of our lines of sight, we all recognised a kind-spirited, well-mannered, service-oriented soul, who would've given you the shirt off his own back—at the cost of his reservedness—if it meant doing what is right for any *one* of us in need.

He was a giver who *needed* to give, for it was the act of him offering, and *you accepting* that gave him *priceless* meaning to his presence in this physical domain.

He gave without thinking, but *never* without feeling.

Thank you to *each* and *every* one of you who *ever* welcomed his help, a suggestion that he made, a gift that he came bearing, or simply a cushion he offered to double your comfort — it all enriched the life that he lived in a *fundamental* way.

I did not accept as many gifts as I should have of his, and for that, I am sorry dad, but now with your untethered perception, I hope you can see better than ever, with more clarity and distilled understanding, that, I love you, regardless of the past.

I thank you for saturating our home with music during my formative years.

This habit of yours instilled in me a *deep* and *wide* appreciation for sound, one that will *never* fade.

Through this orientation, you've given me a seemingly *limitless* supply of songs to help heal me when I need it, accept the world when I struggle with it, and better understand who I am when I am lost.

Music is probably the thing that ever got closest to my dad.

It allowed him to express his joy, entertain his friends, and bring theraputic *relief* to the complex emotions that he often found difficult to comprehend.

Thank you to *all* who shared an evening of music with him, be it at his home where he was *thrilled* to be the master of ceremonies, disc-jockeying his beloved collection, or at a public house where live music infused the air: *your* presence only *heightened* his experience, and helped paint the picture we call the past with *vivid* colours for him to reminisce, in life and now in spirit.

To me, Keith lives on within *each* of us.

We just need *still* our thoughts and *listen*: There he is, speaking to us the phrases we remember him most for.

To treat ourselves for *all* our hard work, and to do the *Right thing*, at every turn.

My dad would've been *so touched* by the words that we've inked and those that we've spoken here today, but most of all, by their accompanying actions.

I want to say a big *thank you* from me, my mum, *and* my dad, to *everyone* who has helped since the day of his passing.

You have supported my mum and I when my dad could not be here to do so, and for that, I *know* he is eternally grateful, as are we.

Today I choose love over fear, and I begin a *new* chapter in the relationship with my dad.

There is so much *more* I would've liked to have said, but I believe we each have a connection to him, so there is still our lifetimes to converse together, past this *special* day.

I won't forget you dad, not now, and not ever.

Thank you for bringing immeasurable *joy* to my dad's life.

And thank you, for letting me speak for him.

He *loves* us, and wishes for us to focus *primarily* on the good, and *not* the bad, because to *know* his memory is making us smile, is *his* way of giving, for years to come, beyond the veil.

Thank you.