Commemorations for dad part 3

from phil phillips photo archive

I'm not going sarf guv!!


Here are two poems written one just after dad died and the other as it is dated just after the stone setting, I don’t recall why it took me as long as it suggests to write it though! Oh and of course a photo or two from dads archives.

from phil phillips photo archive

Dad love recalling two guns cohen! Who had nothing to do with these guns!



You lie in peace shrouded,

Shrouded in death as you shrouded your life,

Never say it unless it needs to be said,

Only tell those that need to be told,

The complications are a part of it,

Leading from here to eternity,

Would you tell me the truth if I asked,

Or would you build a facade for protection,

There must be a chink in your armour,

From where to see in your soul,

I knew that you loved me,

And never needed to be told.

from phil phillips photo archive

Delia, Andrew, Samantha Simon at Uncle Les and Auntie Elaines 1970's

Sunday 21st July 2002 In Rainham.


It’s the last big goodbye dad,

The last big gathering for you dad,

Skies are suitably grey but dry,

Another funeral finishes as we arrive,

Driving in cab straight out of overhaul,

Waxed shining as ultimate respect for dad,

So many faces, families, friends and foes,

From The Flowery, The Pembury, The Bell and Horns,

The Cabtrade, Brady and Brigade,

Car park full to overflowing,

Into the chapel we all pack,

I’m upfront with Andrew, Leslie and David,

We’re surrounded by everyone else,

Mum is opposite with Helena and Joanne,

Where’s Jo, I can’t see her, yes I can,

Rabbi Belovski starts the service,

I half expect to see Kyle by his side,

But no it’s Rabbi Livingstone I presume,

Rabbi Belovski’s sermon is nice, dad would


Andrew steps up to read the eulogy,

We had written it together with mum,

Everyone laughs in the wrong place,

I didn’t see that one coming at all,

Andrew handles it well, I’m proud,

I know how hard it is to speak up there,

Time for Mourners Kaddish,

I make sure David and Leslie are ready,

Quick look to Andrew and I lead off,

The responses from the congregation sound


Tears well up in my eyes,

It’s tough to speak,

Why is the Mourners Kaddish so hard to say,

I am relieved when it’s over,

But really the tough part is yet to come,

We slowly leave the chapel,

A forest of hands wish us all long life,

We join mum for the long walk to the grave,

A river of sadness and good wishes flows behind


Standing by dad’s grave, waiting for the river to


I pull out the miniature Camus Brandy nanna Mill

gave me,

Leslie recognises it immediately,

We bought those at Gatwick Airport,

On the way to Algeciras,

I uncork the bottle smoothly down it goes,

Explosion of warmth from deep within surrounds me,

Three generations connected in spirit,

Jo makes her way through to me,

A hug and a smile, I feel miles better,

Rabbi Belovski gathers us around the grave,

Slowly he reads the inscription,

First  in hebrew, then in english,

A prayer of consecration then Mourners Kaddish

once more,

As the service ends Andrew Mum and I all hug,

Then it’s time for the forest of hands once more,

Everyone with something nice to say,

Wash those hands, you don’t want to be Unclean,

Everyone is leaving time to go,

Have we left someone behind, go and check,

Slow drive to mum’s is time to talk,

It all went well, a good tribute to dad,

The house is packed with family and friends,

Time to remember the good times,

Then it’s all over, the silence is deafening,

The void is incomprehensible,

just how do you replace dad,

It just can’t be done,

So all that is left is your spirit dad,

Flying so high, whispering in my ear,

Still talking to me like before,

As a vision in my dreams, still healthy,

Dad you’ll always be with me,



Simon Phillips.

written 24th July to 2nd September 2002.

from phil phillips photo archive

This is all that remains of the original statue, victoria Embankment gardens 1970's

About simonovitch

Writer poet music freak etc etc based in London you'll find out more by reading my blogs.
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