Irvin "Irv" Cane (7 Dec 1948 - 30 Jan 2015)

Nous pensons tous très fort à toi Irvin, que tu reposes en paix auprés de ta bien aimée.
Nous présentons toutes nos condoléances à Tom et Keira ainsi qu'à toute la petite famille.
Nous n'oublierons jamais une telle amitié.
Sincères condoléances.

Tom's eulogy - Part 1

Thank you all for coming today to celebrate my dad’s life. Everyone here today meant the world to dad so to see you all made it today having travelled many miles to be here to say goodbye and share our grief means a lot to the whole family.

Of course, it’s sad to have to say goodbye but today we should also feel lucky to have had dad in our lives. I certainly feel lucky to have had such a great dad, as painful as it is to say goodbye so abruptly.

In the last two weeks since he left us, Keira and myself have been inundated with heartfelt messages from people all around the world. As well as family and friends dad made over the years, messages have come in from people dad taught or coached at school who felt compelled to get in touch. Reading these messages, it’s clear that dad meant a lot to many people.

He is remembered as -I quote from the messages- “one of the good guys”, a “wonderful man” and as an “inspiration.”

When thinking about this speech, so many memories flooded in and I’m sure everybody here has enough that if we shared them all we’d be here all day. It’s difficult to do dad justice in a 10 minute speech, but I’ll give it my best shot by sharing some of the qualities I feel defined dad as a man, and sharing some memories to illustrate these.

First and foremost, dad was a loving and supportive family man, as a father, a grandfather, a son and of course a husband. Dad’s family meant everything to him.

As a dad, they didn’t come any better. When Keira and I were children, growing up in Newchurch on the Isle of Wight, we were in awe of all dad could do. I remember the nights he would go out fishing way beyond our bedtime. In the morning invariably we’d wake up and go downstairs o find a massive conger eel taking pride of place in the bath.

He could make amazing things as well, like the time he made Keira and me bows and arrows, only for it to nearly end in disaster when Keira shot me just above the eye (I still have the scar today). He was a sportsman too. He’d show us clippings from the papers reporting the tries he scored for the Hurricanes, though it really ticked him off that they would never get his name right, calling him “Lane” or “Crane”. He was always out running too. He’d go off to the mainland to run races and photos of him running these would then appear on the mantelpiece. In short, dad was our hero.

As a dad, he was also incredibly supportive. He was my greatest supporter who inspired me to be ambitious and never doubt myself, even when others would, in chasing my dreams. He’d say “Reach for the stars and if you hit the sky you’ll have done well.”

When Keira went through hard times and was in hospital, Dad was there to support her, even delaying his camino trip to be by her side. He made sure he was always there to raise her spirits and give her pep talks. That was the measure of the man.

Dad was also a grandfather, grampy, to William, Henry, Martha and Dylan. He took on the role with passion and pride from day one. He had a very strong bond with his grandkids, particularly because he made them syrup on toast for breakfast in the mornings. He’d then get the boys ready for school, combing their hair in a 1950s style parting and sending them on their way. Needless to say, the kids loved their grampy dearly and will miss him.

As an only child, he had a very close bond with my grandma. He was a doting son who was always there for her, calling her on a daily basis wherever he was and making sure we were always together at Christmas. Grandma doted on dad as well and clearly appreciated how good a son he was. Indeed, when Keira found out she was expecting a boy with her eldest William, she remembers Grandma telling her “A son can be nearly as good as a daughter - just look at your father.”

Of course, it’s impossible to mention dad as a family man without mentioning how devoted a husband he was to my mum, Sandy. They met at university in Brighton in the late 1960s and quickly fell in love. They got married in 1971 and stayed married for 40 happy years, until mum passed away in 2011.

Mum meant the world to dad - they came as a partnership, and in truth he struggled without her. They were two halves of one whole - maybe one couldn’t survive without the other. It almost seems like fate that dad only outlived mum by a few years and that now they are together again.

Mum and dad’s relationship was quite a journey, from Brighton to Isle of Wight where Keira and I were born and raised in Newchurch, then on to France, to Paris where we moved and Charente where together they built their dream home at Bourcelaine.

There were lows too, of course. For over 20 years, mum battled on and off with cancer and dad stuck with her throughout, supporting her, loving her and caring for her each ordeal. It was never easy going into the hospital day after day when she was in there, or helping her through the trauma that comes with having cancer, but he stuck it out throughout all those years, never shirking from his responsibilities as a caring husband.

This brings us to another of dad’s qualities I’d like to highlight today - his caring nature. It was almost dad’s calling to care for people and give his support when they needed it most, whether it be mum, my grandma, my sister and me, his friends, pupils at school, or even strangers. One time, after seeing a wounded homeless man at a station and being appalled that passers by were just ignoring his distress, he rushed back up to his car to get his first aid kit and promptly bandaged the man up.

It was this caring nature that also made dad a great teacher. He cared passionately about the kids he taught, both in terms of their education and their all round well being. I got a message from an old friend the other day that said how sad he was to hear of dad’s passing and remembering how much dad had helped him when he was having some tough times after moving to France. At the lycée where he taught and Keira and I attended, it was all books and there no sports for kids to have another outlet to express themselves. Dad changed all this, starting football and rugby on Saturday mornings. He coached our rugby team and several team mates from that team have messaged in to say what an influence dad had as their coach. One guy described him as an “inspiration”.

Of course, dad also loved having fun. He was passionate about many things - rugby, fishing, birding, music, reading … the list goes on.

Fishing of course was a great passion. As kids, some of our happiest memories were when dad would take us out fishing for the day. Often he’d take us to catch wrasse as bait for his own proper grown-up fishing - so he put us to good use! The passion of fishing remained throughout his life and he too great pride in sharing this with others.

As a son of wales, rugby was a great passion of his. In fact, he called it the game of life. He’d say … “son, there’s no situation you’ll encounter in life that won’t have already met on the field of rugby.” To this day, I still question whether this sweeping statement was in any way true, but nevertheless it was a great soundbite.

Watching Wales play was one of the passions that we shared together. We especially enjoyed the six nations and victories for Wales were always made even sweeter by the fact that Dad was the most pessimistic fan ever. Even if Wales were on winning streak he’d always say “they’ll get stuffed today, I’ve seen it all before” or if they had a big winning cushion at half time he’d expect a stirring comeback from the other side.

Wherever I was in the world, and no matter how many beers had been consumed, we always called each other at half time of Wales’ games to offer each other our analysis and prognostics for the second half. I missed this last week during Wales-England but every half time from now on, I’ll think of him and give him the rundown.

I’ve mentioned some of dad’s passions, but he also loved the simple things in life. Who could forget his whistling? He liked to focus on the chorus of a song and whistle it over and over again. While it could be irritating because of its piercing tone, it also came in handy if you got lost in a public place like a supermarket. All you had to do was listen for dad’s whistling and you’d soon find him and be on your way.

Never was dad happier than when in the company of family or good friends, with some good food, a bottle of wine (or five), some good music and conversation. I’ll miss those evenings around the table drinking wine and putting the world to rights. Looking back over the course of my life, I’ll always remember dad’s fun loving nature - from the legendary news years eve’s parties Keira and I used to watch at our house in Newchurch, to those balmy summer days and nights at Bourcelaine over the years.

On one memorable family dinner at Bourcelaine back in the 90s we’d had a seafood feast involving langoustines. Dad was clowning around with a particularly vicious looking langoustine pretending to bite himself on the nose with its pincers. Disaster ensued, when he somehow managed to nip himself quite severely with the langoustine and started bleeding profusely. There are photos of dad holding tissue to his bleeding nose holding up the guilty langoustine. Funnily enough, this silly anecdote was the first to spring to both mine and Keira’s minds when thinking of an amusing memory to sum dad’s fun loving nature up.

I am running out of time, but the last quality of dad’s I’d like to highlight today is his adventurous spirit, which was ironic really seeing that he was a natural worrier at heart. I’ve lost count of the times that, as children when we were setting off on holiday, we’d have to turn back an hour into our journey to double check that dad had turned the gas off. He always had of course.

After mum passed away, he became an intrepid traveler and adventurer, most notably hiking the camino trail with his friend Richard. From the tales from this trip, it seems their days invariably involved a 9am beer or two but the daily photos of his blisters underlined the physical and mental toughness required to walk over the Pyrenees.

He was so proud of their achievement, raising a large money for Force, a local Exeter charity that supports people with cancer or affected by cancer. They’ve supported Keira and dad felt mum would have greatly benefited from something like Force if it had existed in France. There’s a collection box here today if you wish to donate in his memory.

In the last few years, dad has also travelled to Latin America and South East Asia with Jeff and Australia and New Zealand with Paul and Stella and his sister in law Karen. Reading his travel diaries, Keira and I found a bucket list, and it warmed our hearts to see that he’d ticked off all but one of the items on it during his recent adventures.

——

I hope I’ve managed to sum up some of dad’s qualities during this short speech. Everyone here had their own special relationship with dad and their own memories. To us, he was our hero, our best friend, our dad, and we’ll miss him sorely. We all will.

But if you ever feel lost,listen for Dad’s whistling, and you’ll soon be on your way again

He could make amazing things as well, like the time he made Keira and me bows and arrows, only for it to nearly end in disaster when Keira shot me just above the eye (I still have the scar today). He was a sportsman too. He’d show us clippings from the papers reporting the tries he scored for the Hurricanes, though it really ticked him off that they would never get his name right, calling him “Lane” or “Crane”. He was always out running too. He’d go off to the mainland to run races and photos of him running these would then appear on the mantelpiece. In short, dad was our hero.

As a dad, he was also incredibly supportive. He was my greatest supporter who inspired me to be ambitious and never doubt myself, even when others would, in chasing my dreams. He’d say “Reach for the stars and if you hit the sky you’ll have done well.”

When Keira went through hard times and was in hospital, Dad was there to support her, even delaying his camino trip to be by her side. He made sure he was always there to raise her spirits and give her pep talks. That was the measure of the man.

Dad was also a grandfather, grampy, to William, Henry, Martha and Dylan. He took on the role with passion and pride from day one. He had a very strong bond with his grandkids, particularly because he made them syrup on toast for breakfast in the mornings. He’d then get the boys ready for school, combing their hair in a 1950s style parting and sending them on their way. Needless to say, the kids loved their grampy dearly and will miss him.

As an only child, he had a very close bond with my grandma. He was a doting son who was always there for her, calling her on a daily basis wherever he was and making sure we were always together at Christmas. Grandma doted on dad as well and clearly appreciated how good a son he was. Indeed, when Keira found out she was expecting a boy with her eldest William, she remembers Grandma telling her “A son can be nearly as good as a daughter - just look at your father.”

Of course, it’s impossible to mention dad as a family man without mentioning how devoted a husband he was to my mum, Sandy. They met at university in Brighton in the late 1960s and quickly fell in love. They got married in 1971 and stayed married for 40 happy years, until mum passed away in 2011.

Mum meant the world to dad - they came as a partnership, and in truth he struggled without her. They were two halves of one whole - maybe one couldn’t survive without the other. It almost seems like fate that dad only outlived mum by a few years and that now they are together again.

Mum and dad’s relationship was quite a journey, from Brighton to Isle of Wight where Keira and I were born and raised in Newchurch, then on to France, to Paris where we moved and Charente where together they built their dream home at Bourcelaine.

There were lows too, of course. For over 20 years, mum battled on and off with cancer and dad stuck with her throughout, supporting her, loving her and caring for her each ordeal. It was never easy going into the hospital day after day when she was in there, or helping her through the trauma that comes with having cancer, but he stuck it out throughout all those years, never shirking from his responsibilities as a caring husband.

This brings us to another of dad’s qualities I’d like to highlight today - his caring nature. It was almost dad’s calling to care for people and give his support when they needed it most, whether it be mum, my grandma, my sister and me, his friends, pupils at school, or even strangers. One time, after seeing a wounded homeless man at a station and being appalled that passers by were just ignoring his distress, he rushed back up to his car to get his first aid kit and promptly bandaged the man up.

It was this caring nature that also made dad a great teacher. He cared passionately about the kids he taught, both in terms of their education and their all round well being. I got a message from an old friend the other day that said how sad he was to hear of dad’s passing and remembering how much dad had helped him when he was having some tough times after moving to France. At the lycée where he taught and Keira and I attended, it was all books and there no sports for kids to have another outlet to express themselves. Dad changed all this, starting football and rugby on Saturday mornings. He coached our rugby team and several team mates from that team have messaged in to say what an influence dad had as their coach. One guy described him as an “inspiration”.

Of course, dad also loved having fun. He was passionate about many things - rugby, fishing, birding, music, reading … the list goes on.

Fishing of course was a great passion. As kids, some of our happiest memories were when dad would take us out fishing for the day. Often he’d take us to catch wrasse as bait for his own proper grown-up fishing - so he put us to good use! The passion of fishing remained throughout his life and he too great pride in sharing this with others.

As a son of wales, rugby was a great passion of his. In fact, he called it the game of life. He’d say … “son, there’s no situation you’ll encounter in life that won’t have already met on the field of rugby.” To this day, I still question whether this sweeping statement was in any way true, but nevertheless it was a great soundbite.

Watching Wales play was one of the passions that we shared together. We especially enjoyed the six nations and victories for Wales were always made even sweeter by the fact that Dad was the most pessimistic fan ever. Even if Wales were on winning streak he’d always say “they’ll get stuffed today, I’ve seen it all before” or if they had a big winning cushion at half time he’d expect a stirring comeback from the other side.

Wherever I was in the world, and no matter how many beers had been consumed, we always called each other at half time of Wales’ games to offer each other our analysis and prognostics for the second half. I missed this last week during Wales-England but every half time from now on, I’ll think of him and give him the rundown.

I’ve mentioned some of dad’s passions, but he also loved the simple things in life. Who could forget his whistling? He liked to focus on the chorus of a song and whistle it over and over again. While it could be irritating because of its piercing tone, it also came in handy if you got lost in a public place like a supermarket. All you had to do was listen for dad’s whistling and you’d soon find him and be on your way.

Never was dad happier than when in the company of family or good friends, with some good food, a bottle of wine (or five), some good music and conversation. I’ll miss those evenings around the table drinking wine and putting the world to rights. Looking back over the course of my life, I’ll always remember dad’s fun loving nature - from the legendary news years eve’s parties Keira and I used to watch at our house in Newchurch, to those balmy summer days and nights at Bourcelaine over the years.

On one memorable family dinner at Bourcelaine back in the 90s we’d had a seafood feast involving langoustines. Dad was clowning around with a particularly vicious looking langoustine pretending to bite himself on the nose with its pincers. Disaster ensued, when he somehow managed to nip himself quite severely with the langoustine and started bleeding profusely. There are photos of dad holding tissue to his bleeding nose holding up the guilty langoustine. Funnily enough, this silly anecdote was the first to spring to both mine and Keira’s minds when thinking of an amusing memory to sum dad’s fun loving nature up.

I am running out of time, but the last quality of dad’s I’d like to highlight today is his adventurous spirit, which was ironic really seeing that he was a natural worrier at heart. I’ve lost count of the times that, as children when we were setting off on holiday, we’d have to turn back an hour into our journey to double check that dad had turned the gas off. He always had of course.

After mum passed away, he became an intrepid traveler and adventurer, most notably hiking the camino trail with his friend Richard. From the tales from this trip, it seems their days invariably involved a 9am beer or two but the daily photos of his blisters underlined the physical and mental toughness required to walk over the Pyrenees.

He was so proud of their achievement, raising a large money for Force, a local Exeter charity that supports people with cancer or affected by cancer. They’ve supported Keira and dad felt mum would have greatly benefited from something like Force if it had existed in France. There’s a collection box here today if you wish to donate in his memory.

In the last few years, dad has also travelled to Latin America and South East Asia with Jeff and Australia and New Zealand with Paul and Stella and his sister in law Karen. Reading his travel diaries, Keira and I found a bucket list, and it warmed our hearts to see that he’d ticked off all but one of the items on it during his recent adventures.

——

I hope I’ve managed to sum up some of dad’s qualities during this short speech. Everyone here had their own special relationship with dad and their own memories. To us, he was our hero, our best friend, our dad, and we’ll miss him sorely. We all will.

But if you ever feel lost,listen for Dad’s whistling, and you’ll soon be on your way again

A life too short but so well lived. We will miss you greatly but will carry with us precious memories of your friendship and the many happy times we shared.

We first met Irvin and Sandy when our son Matthew brought the lovely Keira into our lives. As soon as we met we found we had many interests in common,especially so when our grandchildren were born. That first night when William was born and we all became grandparents for the first time, was made memorable by sharing a bottle of wine in their hotel room, drinking in toothbrush glasses! Over time we found them to be great hosts and a great Nana and Grampy , caring for each other and their friends and families.
Missing Sandy, Irv showed considerable determination and enthusiasm completing mammoth walks for charity and exploring the world. Sadly, they have both been taken too soon and are missed by all who knew them.

Irv, you were a wonderful devoted son, especially in looking after your Mum so well as she grew older; a loyal and loving lifelong husband to Sandy; an excellent and much loved father to Keira and Tom; a great nephew and cousin; an amazing uncle to Jess, Elly, George, Heidi, Jake and Ella; a fantastic brother (in law) to Nick and Tracey and I; and a doting, fun filled, proud Grampy to William, Henry, Martha and Dylan, (and more to come, no doubt!) And, last but not least a trusty, helpful and beloved friend to too many people to mention here. All in all, you were and are a beautiful soul who brought life, laughter, love and joy to all those who were fortunate enough to have you in their lives. We love you and miss you Irv, but are happy that you are now with your beautiful wife and Mum and Dad in Paradise and we look forward to the day when we can all meet up with you again. Yours in loving memory, your sister in Australia, Karen xxxxx

The Irv we knew so well was a one-off. Above all a family man who gave so much love as a son, husband, father and grandfather. He was intelligent and learned as well as being generous, caring and great fun. A true son of Wales who was always happy to be outdoors with the birds he loved or on the rugby field. A true friend. We will miss him and that mischievous smile more than we can say.

So many happy memories of times shared. A very good friend who will be so very missed by all of us in the Charente.Our love and thoughts to Keira and Tom and your families.xx

Irv, you were my role model when I was a troubled young teen. I'll miss you greatly and cherish the happy memories from over the years.
Love, respect and tears from Nick.

Dearest Keira, dear Tom,

I am greatly saddened by the sudden news of your father and want you to know how very sorry I am for this loss. Irvin was one of those exceptional people one does not forget even if one has not seen him in some time. I was very fond of him and had great respect for his strength, courage, sensitivity and terrific sense of humour. May he rest in peace with Sandy now.
Courage to you both; you will be in my thoughts and prayers.

Love,
Carol (Wendy's mother)