There are various moments in life, which stand out for all of it.

Getting married. When your kids are born. When people die.

The ‘Hatches, Matches and Dispatches’ of your world.

And you get a feel for when they’re coming. Well, at least I’d hope so. There’s an invitation through the post with at least one of those!

Visual clues are pretty pivotal with another.

The only one that sometimes sneaks up without any warning is the ugliest.

And that’s exactly what happened to our family in late February this year, when we lost my father-in-law.

Because of a variety of issues, none which bear repeating here, we only got to say goodbye at his funeral this past week.

My own Dad died ten years ago this year, and when he did, I wanted to speak at his funeral. The only person I had to convince to let me was my Mum.

I knew I could do it.

When I tell you that I get nervous about most things in life, and uncertainty readily creeps in, that’s not a lie, but the few things I know I can do, I have a rock solid faith in. This was one. I had no reason or right to feel that way, never having done anything similar. I just knew.

And when my father-in-law died, and my wife and sister-in-law asked me to write something on their behalf for him at his funeral, I knew I could do it again.

It was an honour and a privilege to do so, but I’m glad it’s now done.

If you knew Trevor at all, but couldn’t be there, we thought you might appreciate seeing a transcript of what I said.

Hello,

I’m John. I’m one of Trevor’s son-in-laws, and, a few months short of ten years ago I stood at a lectern very similar to this one and read a tribute to my Dad in the wake of his passing.

He didn’t moan about it then, so here I am….. The difference on this occasion, is that I’m not representing myself and my Mum, but Edna… Mark, Ruth, and Lynne, their kids, and…believe it or not….THEIR kids, as well as the wider family.

My hope is to not let you down.

The reason it’s me doing this, and not one of ‘the kids’….is because they’re understandably concerned they might buckle or wilt a bit up here facing you all.

I, on the other hand have made a career out of speaking, followed by people crying.

This is nothing new for me.

So, this is a little sprinkle of what Trevor’s kids, grandkids and great grandkids wanted to say, because that is who Trevor was.

We’ve heard from Holly (one of our Ministers), and Mark, (Trevor’s son) about some of their recollections….and I could tell you about the things he did during his life…the jobs he held, the places he lived.

And he was a very accomplished, intelligent guy….but that gives you a flavour ofwhat he did, and where he went, not who he was….

Trevor was a performer, and the fact he’d never made the West End or Broadway didn’t hinder him one bit.

He took it to the world, literally whenever and wherever he could.

In shops, in the street, in restaurants.

Nowhere missed out on a song or dance.

At times, it could make you cringe…..because you couldn’t go anywhere.

You were now associated with this guy who’d just spontaneously startedsinging Don Williams, ABBA …The Marseillaise…..

It didn’t matter what it was…he’d have a good go at it….over the loosest of connections…..as you noted on the pub TV that ….”The French hadwon the rugby that day….” Off he’d go…..(ANTHEM)

I referred to those moments as being ‘Von Trapped.’

Other occasions, it’d be a little tap dance or soft shoe shuffle…. in the bakery aisle….just because. And oddly, at that moment, even though you didn’t know it in advance….and I don’t think he did either….he just felt like it….but it turned out to be what the old lady on the other side of the aisle needed exactly at that minute in her life….as her frown turned upside down.

He would burst into song or dance the way petrol bursts into flame when it meets a match. And Trevor met his match, when fate served him Edna.

I can’t tell you much about their earlier days when they were courting….but I can tell you about every day I’ve known them.

Connected by a deep love, a bond in each other and their faith in God which has seen them through…well, everything life’s thrown at them.

Quite recently I came across a photo of Trevor and Edna walking out of the church just after they were married, and Trevor’s glancing at a friend as if to say…”Hey, check this out…I won the lottery.”

He looked like a guy who’d just been given the moon and the stars and the galaxies above…..and yet the closest he ever came to reaching that analogy was when Edna, on occasion would say….”choose your planet”.

She too, wasn’t completely immune to the occasional embarrassment of the spontaneous light entertainment department.

Yes. With Trevvie, you genuinely never knew what was coming next.

Well, for the most part. Some things were absolutely regimented, like the way he would answer when you asked him how he was.

“How are you Trevor?”

“Very well, very well”….Or if you happened to mention you were tired,he’d jump in with…. “I was born tired, and never recovered”.

It may have occurred to you by now, that, for a lot of the time, Trevor behaved like he was about 6.

Not far off….maybe a shade mature, but you’re certainly in the right ballpark.

And you know what, that’s why every kid who ever clapped eyes on him, loved him.

They recognised a kindred spirit.

A playfulness. Devilment. Fun.

Latterly, the last couple of Summers we’ve had this big blow up pool in our back garden, and in the non Covid times, every kid in the neighbourhood would turn up with a towel and a bathing costume.

And delighted at this, on the back porch would be Trevor.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of coins and scattered it across the bottom of the pool. So the kids could dive for it, grab some cash and maybe buy a sweetie when they were dry.

From then on Lynne christened it, The Trevvie Fountain.

Every year, when the Christmas Tree was erected, you’d find Trevor on the floor underneath, with at least one grandchild beside him, looking up….at the lights and ornaments as they glistened….because it’s the best view, don’t you know.

He’d have been a very good Santa. Maybe he was….And like Santa, he was known by many names….Dad, Pops, Granpa, Papa, Pappy, that manny in the street who was dancing round the Copey last time I wasin….

I was always fond of Uncle Treasure.

That one tickled me, as I’m sure it did him.

More than anything, he was a man who delighted in….who revelled in the glory of his family.

He was so incredibly proud of all of you, to the point he’d sit and say after a meal with us “ I just can’t get over how lucky I am”.

For a man who didn’t gamble, much like when he got married, he thought he’d won the jackpot.

The last time I saw him, was at our house.

He wasn’t feeling well, and we’d taken him down with us because his breathing was laboured.

He struggled to get up from a seat.

So it came as a real surprise to one of the paramedics who was on hand taking checks, when he tried to make a song from the bleeps made by the machine measuring his blood pressure.

The surprise made even greater by the fact she was sounding his chest at the time, receiving the entire song in Dolby Surround Sound via her stethoscope.

We implored him to stop….”I’m sorry” he replied, like a scolded child, as the paramedic moved round to the other side with her stethoscope once more…and he mock screamed “Ah…it’s cal …it’s cal”……most likely perforating her other eardrum in the process.

Shortly after, the decision was made to take him to hospital, and as we helped lift him into the ambulance….the other, quieter paramedic finally spoke, whispering to me… “at least you’ll get some peace for a wee bit now, eh?”

Too much.

Trevor visited Edna at Allachburn Nursing Home twice a week with Lynne.

To my knowledge, he never once complained they were separated.

The closest he came to that was when I’d wait outside to take him home again, and on a good day, you’d know…because he’d come bouncing back to the car… “How was Edna today, Trevor?” “Oh, she was in great form today”, he’d say…and then pause for a beat before adding…”I just wish I could take her home with me”.

On one of his last visits there, Lynne told me how they gently danced and sang their way down the corridor arm in arm.

On a point of order, we have explained to Edna that Trevor has passed.

We wanted her to be at the Falls Of Feugh this afternoon, but we’ve opted not to at the last minute….You can of course arrange to see her at Allachburn in the future, but we would ask if she doesn’t bring it up, maybe don’t mention Trevor, because each time she learns about it, she’s doing so for the first time….and as much as I laugh and joke with her and still call her Wizardora, I would spare her that pain if at all possible.

OK, I did say I was up here to try and reflect the thoughts of Ruth, and Lynne.

These are Ruth’s.

For all the times you messed the kitchen up whilst cooking. For all the times you broke a glass while telling a story. For all the times I’d cringe when you’d break into song. For all the times we’d all avoid eye contact as you strode across the floor for the first dance at family parties… I wouldclean the kitchen 5 million times over. Break a glass with you. Burst into spontaneous song and fight the cousins off for the first dance, just to be able to do it with you.

Love you, and miss you, my Dad.

And now Lynne’s.

When I think of my Dad, the first word that springs to my mind is Joy. Joy in his wife and then with his family. My Dad could find the joy in any situation. I was never without a dance partner, lead or backing vocals, or someone to go sledging with…….as a fully fledged adult. I feel like I’ve lost a sidekick, only I was the sidekick to his lead.

He taught me many lessons in life, but the most important thing that he taught me is always try and find the joy. Always loved. Always remembered. Always blessed. Finding the joy.

Thank you Pops #BeMoreTrevvie

I was trying to think of how I would sum up Trevor.

First of all, he was a ‘Yes Accelerator.’

Whatever you asked of him, he’d answered ‘yes’, before you’d finished the question. “Could you lend me?….YES.”

“Any chance you could pick me up at 3 tomorrow morning from…?”.YES”

“Pappy, can I play with the chainsaw in the ga…..?” “YES”

Most of the time it went fine.

He just wanted to help. At all times. He was a serial people pleaser.

Second, he was so dependable when you needed him, he was kind of like a St Bernard.

That also holds true because they aren’t the most tremendous tap dancers either, and he was never that far from a brandy.

But take from it most, he was always by your side in a jam.

And third – I always used to say this – Trevor Sassella was the most thrawn man I’ve ever met.

“You can’t say that at his funeral” people would tell me.

But it’s true.

And at times it could be infuriating, because no matter what you asked of him, he was just going to do things his way regardless, but you know, thrawn can be a superpower too.

When everyone else in the room would go in one direction, Trevor would be the guy who’d say…. “No, I’ll stand with you.”

And he did. On more than one occasion.

Because more than anything, he believed in his family.

And, more than anything, he loved a family party.

And that’s where we’re going next.

The nature of a service of this type, or a wedding, anything which veers from the traditional Sunday version is that a Church or Chapel is occupied in part by people who ordinarily wouldn’t be here.

For those people, I wanted to offer you this.

Whether you believe in a hereafter or not…..whether you think you’ll never hear from Trevvie again, you’re wrong.

Dispensing with God and religion, and sticking merely with every day fact – you’re here because you knew Trevor.

And regardless of what you think….every life that comes into contact with another, leaves an indelible little mark, or in Trevor’s case….a cracking big enormous one.

And each life, leaves an imprint on the others it comes into contact with.

An embedded memory, which surfaces, often at the least expected time, in the strangest of ways, to comfort, raise a smile, and console.

Whether you believe in God or not. I have them in abundance. It’s to be expected. But you’ll have them too, I guarantee it, at some point.

Don’t fight that spontaneous soft shoe shuffle when it arrives. It’s a gift.

And to those who shared a Church with Trevor, you’ll know how faithful and devoted a man, Trevor was.

To his wife, to his family, and to his God.

He was a child raised in the church. A BB. A Sunday school teacher, a communicant, a worshipper, and now, without a hint of fear in his passing, is closer to his God now, more than ever, and took huge comfort in that.

That was his life.

That is who he was.

Let me just pull this last part from my own Dad’s speech.

If there’s one question that’s been asked of us more than any other this last little while it’s this……

“Is there anything I can do?”

Yes, there is.

Rejoice in what you had, not mourn what you’ve lost.

Laugh, not cry.

Thrive not crumple.

Blossom, not wilt.

Jazz Hands, not knuckle drag. That’s what Trevor would have wanted.

And if you want to use those Jazz Hands in this next hymn, I’m sure he’d approve…..