Reginald Gordon Jones - 19th November 1929 - 8th September 2009

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My Personal Eulogy

Where do I start to talk about 'Big Fat Gordon' - as I called him,
as he called me 'Big Fat J' - and we always teased and joked about
things like that. That was the thing, we both had the same silly
sense of mocking humour, and used to always make childish jokes
about each other - but in reality it wasn't done for the humour, it
was more of a bonding process, and we did so very often.

Indeed, when I first introduced him to Facebook, and told him how
he could post a message that everyone would see, the first thing
he posted was "Gordon Jones has a big fat son."

I laughed.
He laughed.

Very few people understood this kind of rapport we had.

As some of you know, my personal circumstances forced me to move
back in with my parents a few years ago, and over that time, our
relationship has grown stronger and stronger - he was literally a
best friend.

Those who knew him knew he would always do things for people - whatever
you asked him, he never said no, and never grumbled. Everyone has
said what a lovely and memorable man he was.

Not many people knew the real Gordon (or 'G' as I called him) - he
was quite shy, and awkward around some people, but when he knew them
better, he was a different person. He became good friends with the
dear late John Presdee, and John would often call around in the
evening, and you'd always hear them both laughing in the front room
all evening.

He was always busy doing some project or the other - often, to the
frustration of my mum, he'd start some job that didn't need doing,
when there were more urgent things that did need doing!

Only last week he rebuilt the steps in the back garden, with quite
a grandiose design, all moulded by him out of cement. He was always
quite resourceful, and has done everything from rewiring houses, to
plumbing in central heating, to building walls and extensions.
However, often his ideas were quite 'Heath Robinson' - When we were
kids, riding our bikes around the house, he made some automated
traffic lights for us, using an old record player - he made metal
slots on the turntable, and as it rotated, signals picked up by the
players arm caused lights to switch on and off - we could even change
the frequency the lights changed by changing the speed of the turntable!

He also once made us a swimming pool in the garage, made us water-chutes,
and when it snowed, he always took us sledging and enjoyed it as much
as we did.

Lately, he has been quite absent-minded - for instance, our smoke alarm
was renamed the "Gordon cooking alarm".

One skill I never understood, was his built in time-clock - when he had
to be up early, he'd always wake up on time, without a clock to help him.

I'm really fortunate to have had him in my life - I loved him dearly, and
thankfully, told him so almost daily.

Whilst we all know these events are inevitable, nothing can prepare you
for when it does actually happen, and at the moment, the only time I
can feel some level of calmness is when I'm almost in denial of it - It's
all still so surreal.

I don't shave very often, and G would often nag me : "Have a shave, boy!".
Because of that, when I did shave, I'd always say "I shaved for you, G!".
Well, I have to say that I've just shaved, just for you, Dad.

I'll always be sorry that on the day in question, I wasn't around more,
and didn't realise the enormity of the situation. There is now a huge hole
in my life, Big G, and I'll always love you, and will always miss you.