Sam's Eulogy

This is the Eulogy I read my brother at his funeral on 25th January 2008.

Sam

What an honour it has been to be your brother. The most steadfast, hard, funny and loyal man I have ever known.

How can a brother do true justice to his brother. How can I say what he meant to me. Brotherly bonds defy all description. Deeper than marriage, stronger than friendship. He was there for me from the moment I came to be, and now we must all bid him farewell.

But our sorrow is not why I stand here now, that is something we will all carry with us until we end our days. I stand here to remember my brother.

Sam was an assiduous. voracious learner - and natural teacher. Once he had mastered something, it came as second nature to be able to pass it on. He collected achievements like some people collect beer bottles. He was a scuba diver, a motorbike rider, rugby captain, a blood donor, a bomb maker, a psychology and philosophy graduate, a yacht skipper, a cricket centurion, a skier, a rock climber, a barrister and Mandarin speaker just to list a few. For Sam it wasn't a case of underlining to the rest of us our inferiority, although that was sometimes how it felt; Sam was a man in love with the world and the experiences it offered, so if he saw something which looked interesting - and especially if it was challenging, he didn't just want to try it, he wanted to master it.

Sam's career as a sportsman was one of excellence, and utter enjoyment. He was a skillful and wily competitor, who also happened to be utterly fearless. I remember a game of rugby we played together, myself in the front row and sam in the three quarters, and I'd had a fairly frank discussion with the opposition number 8, and their number 6 had gone in with a cheap shot on Sam - both of whom were pretty big lads, and a couple of break downs later the ref was blowing his whistle very strongly, and a couple of blokes were pulling sam off a guy about three times his size, whilst i was having my say with the number 6 needless to say it was the number 8 Sam was sorting out. And that is what brothers do. It is certainly what Sam did.

When his arm braced your shoulders on a meeting, with a simple warm smile. His strong dependable hug was an embrace which one could never fail to enjoy, or fail to receive. Many is the time that the formal outstretched hand has been ignored - so that he could properly embrace his family or friend. Sam never suffered an ounce of pretension. He found it ridiculous in others and never succumbed to it himself.

Tobias always called Sam his "older, younger brother" and how true that was. Sam's renown, to family, friends and team mates was his sage, capable maturity. His Grandmother, the sternest critic of anything fly-by-night or whimsical called him worldly, and to see them together despite the 68 year gap, it was obvious that they understood each other. And that was Sam. He took time to understand - he was best friends to so many of us in this room, because he learnt our language and spoke to us eye to eye. He was the fulcrum of the family, keeping us all in the loop. Interested in everyone's progress - and the first to notice a course gone awry. I can only imagine how proud my parents must have been of their son. Such an easy achiever, a self propelled work ethic and unutterably modest. His love and care for all his family was genuine and considered. His childhood in Sandford was as happy and action packed as the rest of his life, he knew every square inch of his home parish, and would use any excuse to pop down - and was the first to volunteer help on the farm. Which meant he'd quite often be on his feet in court in exeter at ten, then up to his knees in mud on the farm by three.

Sam made friendships from granite. And he never let his mates down. Often he'd chat about a buddy who was having a hard time, in a relationship or with work - and he'd make sure that was when he'd put in the time to see them. Sam was also an imp. A devilish, chortling, snorting madman. The level of glee he derived from his miscreance was often the spark on the blue touch-paper of many long evenings. It was hard to tire of Sam. He found nudity hilariously entertaining, he had a feral predilection for outdoor mituration and I have never known anyone who found such unbridled joy in picking his nose. For every evening wrecking one of Her Majesty's Ships of the Fleet, there would be an evening of considered cerebral discourse on the infinite universe, a hard fought game of squash, and a pint down the pub - or a night in front of the tv curled up on the sofa with the most important woman in his life.

It was a joy to see such a long established love match crowned in marriage this December last. Michala was all of Sam's equal, and Sam adored that about her. She was an established and loved part of the Butterfield family long before the wedding, and seeing them together so effortlessly happy - and blindly content in each other's space was a gift we can all hold on to. Michala's presence in our family was a breath of fresh air, her wit, warmth and her generosity of spirit will be missed more than can be measured. The facts of this occasion are that our family mourn both our brother, and a sister.

What was it with this man we found so compelling? Sam and his wife lie here with us, a Cathedral full of humanity paying our own respects to our own special person. For me, I bid farewell to the bravest, most stubborn, gritty, honest, wonderful bastard there will ever be. Sam was my backbone, my henchman and my hero. There is no happy ending to this story, only memories. Hold on to them, because you don't meet many like him.