Eulogy for my Dad

My hard drive with the recovered data from my old drives has finally arrived! Here's one that I've been looking for: my eulogy for my Dad, who died of cancer in 2018. NB: this was before I came out. - Hi Everybody,

My name is Michael Riddell. I’m Andrew’s son, and I’m a musician and filmmaker. Some of you may have met me as I was growing up, but some of you might not have.

These words are about the role that Andrew George Riddell (who I always called 'Dad') played in my life, but I hope that other people will find some meaning and resonance in them as well. Before sharing my memories of him, I thought I should open by talking about what this occasion means to me, as I find words are often inflected by the occasion that prompted them:

Based on the new experiences I’ve had during these last few days, the element of a funeral that has become fixed in my mind is the way in which it reveals the varied facets of a person through the prism of those who knew them; everyone has a different experience of being close to a person, giving us each distinct, individual memories of them.

However, by placing these memories side by side, certain similarities emerge, allowing us to share at this time the universal qualities we all knew and loved, but also learning about unfamiliar facets of Dad’s distinctive character that ran alongside those which he revealed to us.

As Dad’s son, my experience of him has a strange quality; I never 'met' Dad, he simply came with my life. Because of that, I tended to think of him like a universal constant – the perennial presence that always had my back whenever I needed him.

I think that feeling of Dad as a rock-solid person was part of the impression he made in all areas of his life; Dad had a furious work ethic, and committed wholeheartedly to being the glue that made life easier for all around him. As I grew up, Dad always seemed to be being sought out for his advice, in the office or socially. He was a great listener, and one of the things he tried to teach me was see the value of everybody; Dad’s friends and colleagues weren’t always the snappiest dressers, or ensconced with an “in” crowd, but they were always great people with varied interests and unique perspectives that kept me on my toes. He also made the effort to get to know my friends, and took a genuine interest in their lives as well, which meant a lot to me.

Family life was important to Dad, and while he worked a lot, he always seemed to find the time to bond with his children and create the kind of memories that really stick with you.

Some of my favourite memories as a kid were those where I asked a question about something that stumped Dad, because it meant that we had a project to work on. This usually meant trips to the library, but occasionally experiments we ran in the home; I remember when I was 8 and we were living in Milan, I was interested in physics so Dad set up an experiment that demonstrated Brownian motion to me with items he found in the kitchen. I had a great time, and I learned a lot, though the interest in physics didn’t really take…

I also remember a lot of time spent in the nets trying to make decent cricketers of me and my brother; we were average players at best, but Dad’s love of the game was infectious, and I still follow it avidly. Some of my fondest recent memories of him involve us going to the cricket together, and talking things over as the game unfolded.

Doing these things with Dad was a lot of fun, but it also taught me a lot about how Dad tackled problems and his approach to life in general. He wasn’t one for simply accepting the received wisdom and trusting snap judgements; his process was very methodical, and he wasn’t satisfied until he felt he knew a problem from all angles. At the same time, though, he knew when the simplest answer was the best one and not to over-complicate. I often think back to that in my creative work, where the tension between clarity and ‘distinctiveness’ is always weighing on my mind.

As I moved away from home and went to university, our relationship began to change. In the first year after Stephen and I moved away, Dad often noted that it was hard for him not having us in the house anymore. I also began to see the small cracks in Dad’s rock-solid façade that I had been blind to growing up. Dad’s life was always interesting, but it wasn’t always easy, and the pressures of life sometimes made their mark on him. It made me very happy to see him find a greater measure of happiness and peace towards the end of his life, and as I graduated from university and started moving into the adult world it was great to open up a new phase of our relationship as well…

I wish there had been more time to explore those new layers of our relationship, and benefit from more of his wisdom, but unfortunately things don’t always go the way that we hope they will. I will forever be grateful to Dad for raising me, and I hope that the example he set and the lessons he imparted will always guide me in the right direction as I try to find my way through life.

Thank You.