I intend to start and finish what I want to say with two poems, as I feel that they more than aptly summarise my feelings, and the ideas and emotions that I intend to convey to you today. The first poem was written by John Dryden in 1685 and to me perfectly captures the notion that none of us really know how long we have on this earth, and all we can do is live every day to the fullest and have no regrets, creating memories that neither men nor gods can take from us, and when the curtain comes down we can proudly say that we have lived. This was the way I believe Gaz looked upon his life, living in the moment and face the consequences of morning when it rears its ugly head. As James Dean put it - "dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today".

Happy the Man

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.

Be fair or foul or rain or shine,
The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

Gaz was not a person who minced his words, he was candid, frank, sincere, undisguised and direct, with no care for pretence or formalities. So with this in mind please think me neither coarse nor crass, but this is how intend to address you today. We used to laugh at the idea that often whenever someone died they suddenly became the best person who had ever lived, and if I was to stand here today and say Gaz was the nicest guy in the world he would have laughed in my face and call me a liar.

Picture the scene in any given pub on the evening of any given weekend, we would sit watching the human race in all its wonder and depravity. And all of a sudden I would say something poignant like "it’s the potential of humanity that excites me but the reality that abhors me," and he would chuckle and say something like "yeah, I know what you mean. 9 out of 10 people are arseholes, right?", and I would laugh and nod approvingly and he would say something like "do you know how I know?"
to which I would reply that I didn’t know. He would then declare with the biggest grin on his face "because I’m one of them". But he was my arsehole and that was all that ever mattered. And when I think back over our seemingly thousands of experiences and adventures we shared, it feels like we could be 100 years old. Sometimes we would just look at each other and laugh because we just understood each other and didn’t need words to express this. I am not ashamed to say that when Gaz moved to Manchester for selfish reasons I was gutted, but conversely I was so happy that he was following his heart and chasing his dreams.

There he met the incomparable Nicole, his real partner in crime, and a new friends who I hope I can come to know better in the weeks and months ahead. And when I went to stay with them the weekend before all this happened, I can say hand on heart that with both Nicole and his life I had never seen him happier. For so long in different places things didn’t sit right with him or he felt he didn’t quite fit, but I could tell at last he was home, and it brings me great comfort that he came to know this happiness and contentment.

In recent days I have found peace in an idea that I concocted long ago in the early hours of some god forsaken night, which to a degree contradicts a lot of my beliefs but none the less has still bought me solace at this time of unparalleled sadness. I believe that there are certain rare and special people whose body would never stand a chance of keeping up with their soul. I believe that Gaz was one of these unique individuals. In the words of the late great Hunter S Thompson "too weird to live and too rare to die" - one of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind, never even considered for mass production. To me he was touched by a greatness that too few people will now experience, but more tragically that so many would never even understand. I believe that Gaz lived what I would call an anarchy of the self - he knew his own mind and wasn’t afraid to tell people what they didn’t want to hear. He lived on his own terms and was dictated to by no one. This is one of many reasons why I loved him so much as a friend and a brother, but also admired him so much as a person.

I was talking to Terry on Saturday night and we said that Gaz didn’t worry about things, so many people fill their lives with inconsequential nonsense - but Gaz just concentrated on what he knew was important, and to me that was why things didn’t really seem to faze him. We agreed that if more people thought in this way the world would be a better place, and I believe this is one of the many parts of his legacy that we can all learn from, and in this way amongst many others he will live on in us.

Just look out across this sea of humanity, Terry and Rita - I want you to know that these are just a fraction of the people whose lives Gaz touched and as a result made better. Throughout my life many people, usually supposed educators and police men, have told me that one man cannot change the world, I however have never been a subscriber to this theory.

Thank you for listening to me today, I could never properly put my thoughts and feelings into words, but after much consideration have given it my best effort.

Now I come to my second poem written by William Ernest Henley in 1875. It is titled 'Invictus' - the Latin for invincible. I always interpreted it as an atheist statement of intent, encapsulating the notions of free will, autonomy, triumph over adversity and not compromising your values no matter how high the odds are stacked against you. Maintaining your convictions and the resilience to create your own destiny and shape your own life, and I believe these perspectives where personified perfectly in my friend.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

The final words I want to say to my friend are: rest but never die, be forever young, may we meet again.