My Late Dad

Eulogy for my Dad, Thomas Kenny, who passed away on Christmas Day 2015

Today we say good bye to Thomas Kenny.

He was my Dad first and foremost, but you could also say he was like a diamond, in that he had many sides and passions to his life.

He was a fisherman, a footballer, a bowler, a singer, a husband, a grandfather, an uncle, a coach, a fitter, a carpenter, a family taxi driver, a strongman, a huntsman, a gardener, a forgiver, an encourager, a friend, an example, and a hero.

But his best asset was that he kept the main thing the main thing- which was being a good dad and a good man and a good husband.

I remember when I was about  4 years old he took my brother Robert fishing -and left me behind because I was too young.  At that age, my dad was my hero - up there, even above John Wayne and I loved him dearly. To me, he was the wisest, the strongest and the bravest, and I loved him with all my heart and in my young mind, I couldn't understand why he did it.

 I wept my heart out. However, he must have heard my tears as he drove off with Robert. He probably wouldn't even have remembered the episode years later. But he never did it again, he never left me behind!   So  I never complained when we were out fishing, when it was getting dark and cold and I was getting tired and he would say-'only ten more casts'. Then after the tenth cast, I would ask again 'are we going now?', he would say- 'only five more casts' - as he hoped to catch the elusive big trout or salmon!

Just to be out with him- wearing my water boots and a woolly hat like him, and the big waterproof jacket, with my own rod and reel- just like my dad,  and drinking the shipyard tea which was poured out of the flask and had stewed for hours ( no tea bags in those days), and the chance of catching a trout or two with my dad was heaven on earth. Robert and Ruth would sometimes fish too. I remember well Robert catching a Pike in the River Blackwater and Ruth can remember when she was very young being so amused along with Dad when she only managed to catch some big weeds!

In later years when I grew up and I stopped fishing, he still enjoyed fishing at Speers' and he had many fishing friends such as Markus Brush. When he got too old even to fish, Markus would have thrown into my dad a cleaned out trout that he had caught. Thanks Markus.

I also remember one night we had come home from a day's fishing and MOTD was on- it was the first time I saw it. I liked football but knew little about it- I was in P5. Well, he pointed to one of the players on the Man Utd team who had long black hair and was wearing No 7 on his back and said - 'that's Georgie Best'- from that moment I became a George Best fanatic and ate, drank and slept football. My dad then started to help out with some the teams in Holywood and Dundonald and though it was nearly fifty years ago, Ray Alexander told me the other day that he still remembers my dad's infectious smile when he helped out with a Holywood team- thanks Ray for sharing that.

He loved fishing and he loved football- and let me and others be a part of those passions.

He also loved music and he would have appreciated John playing the piano at the start of the service. When in primary school he got me involved in the Holywood Conservative Flute Band - we actually won two world championships- the anomaly being that the only flute bands in the world are from Northern Ireland.

Anyway, the band had gone to the Grand Master's house one year and alcohol and soft drinks were offered to the Bandsmen. I was only ten years old. The men obviously were going for the larger, except for a friend of mine who was the same age, who took a larger.- I thought I would do the same. I was about to drink some when the secretary of the band gave me a look as if to say 'what are you doing son?' I quickly got rid of it.

However I was in a dilemma-  bearing in mind my dad was teetotal - there was never any alcohol in the house and there was a man in the band who worked with my dad in the shipyard - and he might tell him. I imagined in my mind's eye my dad coming home from work, pushing his bike up the hill- perhaps this would be the day Bobby Hogg mentioned to him about his ten-year-old son pouring himself a glass of Harp.

I had a sleepless night that night, full of suspense and a troubled conscience.  I decided that I would write him a note and leave it in my parent's bedroom when he was downstairs -and wait. The note read: 'yesterday I was tempted to drink some harp- I didn't drink any- please forgive me. Andrew'. I thought I would be in big trouble. I heard him entering the bedroom. I listened -and listened as I imagined him reading the note. I then heard a mighty laugh coming from his room. That sounded promising- he called me in and gave me a big hug. I knew all was right with the world and there was nothing between me and my dad. He never brought it up again or tried to make me feel small through it.

He knew how to keep the main thing the main thing.

He also loved his dogs and his great joy was to walk up in the hills with them and it is where he made many friends, including an old time friend of mine Stevey Atkinson and Max his dog. I often said to my dad that if he owned the Country Park he would not be better off than he was. He could walk in it with his dogs and there would be no one about -it was as if it was his. In fact, it was better for him that he didn't own it because he didn't have to worry about its upkeep. He could just enjoy it. I called on Markus the other day and Mrs Brush said he was up the woods with the dogs- I just thought- that's what my dad loved to do so much- enjoy the simple things in life.

My dad loved his family and when he passed away he was almost eighty-seven years old - He was the youngest of seven children born to William and Martha, after Billy, Lilly, Anne, Andy ( pre WW1) Ella and Mary (post WW1). His father William, who he so proud of, died when my dad  was only twelve and had actually served with the British Army during the Boer war in the Medical Corps, and in  the First World War he was like Steve McQueen, the  'Cooler King ',  out of the film ' The Great Escape', because  he escaped so many times from the German POW camps- but was always captured again.

My dad  dearly loved his lovely wife Ethel, his 'Rose of Tralee', who he was married to for over sixty years.  He loved his children Robert, Andrew and Ruth, along with their spouses Cherrie, Wilma and Rory  of whom he was so proud, along with his grandchildren Andrew, Rachel, Alistair and John. He loved getting his photograph taken with them or playing football, and of course walking up the woods with them, along with his beloved springer spaniels, Paddy and Clyde.

My dad loved to sing and he would often lead us in singing as he drove the car to our holiday destinations, normally at the bottom of Ireland somewhere, which gave us plenty of time to sing! He loved the traditional Irish songs by the Clancey brothers and had sung 'Galway Bay' and 'Kathleen' among other classics at relative's weddings- he never needed a drink to make himself the life and soul of the party - he just needed a good tune and some good words!

Now my Dad had a quiet faith - he never really spoke too much about it, but what he was good at was singing about it. Even when we were kids he would be singing in the house, which he also did when he was a child, along with his brothers and sisters. My mum and dad would sometimes sing duets to the old hymns such as 'Farther along we'll know all about it, Farther along we'll understand why' and 'Everybody ought to know'. He also loved to sing the Wesley hymns and in this church three pews from the back we used to sit as a family every Sunday. He especially loved the rousing hymns such as 'And can it be',  the first hymn we sang this morning being a particular favourite. - you might like to meditate on the words sometime.

When my dad was fifty it was discovered that he had a tumour on his neck- this was a great shock for us all. I knew from the look on his face that he thought his time was up. It broke my heart to see him like that. Was he ready to meet his Maker? We didn't want to press him, so we prayed that he would get right with God and that God would spare him.  I was twenty and unmarried,  and had, since becoming a Christian at fifteen, no fear of death and saw it as a 'going home'. I even prayed that God would give me his cancer so that it would give him time to come to faith.  In what I believe was the mercy of God, he did come to put his faith in Christ and when tested by the hospital it was discovered that the tumour was benign. How happy we were then.

 Thirty-six years later -just over three weeks ago, we were both still alive and my dad said to me - and these were the last words he said to me that I could make out, having later lost his voice- 'I asked God into my heart '. I told him that that had made me prouder than anything he ever did. He later told the carer that he wanted to go, and was ready to go. He now had no fear of death.

So at the end of his life which was a life which he thoroughly enjoyed - he had a family that loved him and friends that respected him. Though he didn't write any books or cut any best selling CDs,  he influenced me for the good, for one, and hopefully some others too.

 So if he were here alive  and was in good singing voice he would definitely enjoy singing  with us 'How great thou Art', the final hymn, as it readily typifies his thoughts and aspirations-  and he would say to you -enjoy your fishing to the full, enjoy your football, enjoy your walks in the hills, enjoy your dogs, enjoy your  friends- but don't do it at the expense of your family, or your faith in the God who has given us the hills, the dogs, the fish, the families, the singing voice and the physical ability to run round a football field or to walk in the Holywood hills with our dogs.

So Dad, on behalf of all who knew and loved you, thanks for your time, for your patience, for your friendship, for your forgiveness, for your prayers and your example of being a good dad and a good husband and a good man. 

And can it be that I should gain
an interest in the Savior's blood?
Died he for me, who caused his pain?
for me, who him to death pursued?
Amazing love! How can it be
that thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

'Tis mystery all: the Immortal dies!
Who can explore his strange design?
In vain the first-born seraph tries
to sound the depths of love divine.
'Tis mercy all! Let earth adore,
let angel minds enquire no more.

He left his Father's throne above -
so free, so infinite his grace -
emptied himself of all but love,
and bled for Adam's helpless race.
'Tis mercy all, immense and free;
for, O my God, it found out me!

Long my imprisoned spirit lay
fast bound in sin and nature's night;
thine eye diffused a quickening ray -
I woke, the dungeon flamed with light,
my chains fell off, my heart was free,
I rose, went forth, and followed thee.

No condemnation now I dread;
Jesus, and all in him, is mine!
alive in him, my living head,
and clothed in righteousness divine,
bold I approach the eternal throne,
and claim the crown, through Christ, my own. 

O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing;
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the Cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation,
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart.
Then I shall bow, in humble adoration,
And then proclaim: "My God, how great Thou art!"

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!