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Roland Humphries 1980 to 2003 |
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A commemoration of Roland’s life
All Saints Church Hall Bromsgrove
Monday 24 November 2003 1.00 pm
******************** MUSIC Gentle acoustic guitar music by Martin Simpson and others, played while all gather, and faded when we are ready Opening Words He shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; Adapted from Laurence Binyon An hour ago at Westall Park, Holberrow Green, near Inkberrow, with dignity and love we laid Roland Jack Humphries to rest in a natural, peaceful and beautiful place. With our numbers now swelled we join together in attempting to come to terms in our own ways with the recent tragic event. Welcome to you all. This afternoon we will pay tribute to Roland, commemorate his life and try to bring some consolation and comfort to those of his family and friends, who are here, who have been deeply affected by his untimely death. The tragedy which so recently occurred will have created amongst you all shock, bewilderment, an air of unreality, with a realisation of life’s frailty and a grief you would not have deemed possible a short while ago. When a very old person dies we may grieve, but we can more readily accept that a life has been lived and drawn to its inevitable close. But when a person like Roland, who should have been in the prime of life, dies, we mourn not only the life that was, but also the life that might have been. Our hearts especially go out to his parents Rosemary and Jeremy and his grandparents Irene and Joe, Vi and Bert. After all you do not expect to lose your child, your grandchild, whatever their age. It is not in the natural order of things. I think everyone here today would wish to convey the sentiments of the following poem to his immediate family including his two brothers Jonathan and Jacob: And we feel your pain and long to touch the hurt Anon It is right and natural that we should grieve, because sorrow is a reflection and measure of the love – the happiness – and the intimacy shared with the one who has gone. In a way too we grieve for ourselves, because we know that our own lives will never be the same without him. Inevitably, you will find the world a poorer place without Roland, but it will be a richer place because he was once in it with you all. The enrichment and added quality of life, which Roland brought to you, will vary between individuals, but everyone in this room now, who faces the hard fact that Roland has died, knows that the significance and influences of his life are by no means dead. You all hold special memories of him and in these collective memories lies the essence of what Roland was and what he was about. They form a fund for the sharing of warmth and comfort and mutual support. When people die so suddenly, unexpectedly, there seem to be few consolations for those left behind. There has been no preparation as with someone long ill: no sense of quiet inevitability of great age; there is no closure, no proper leave taking. Too much is left unfinished and unsaid. You may well ask what possible words of comfort and consolation can be said in these tragic circumstances, and I do not claim for one moment to have found any to ease away the pain. All I can say is that grief goes hand in hand with love. Only the unloved go unmourned. But there are sources of consolation nevertheless. One is that the dead would not wish the living to linger in sorrow and sometimes anger. Rather, they would wish them to grasp the truth expressed in Giraudoux’s lines reminding us that comfort and an eventual return to happiness are always promised in grief: Sadness flies on the wings of the morning; and out of the heart of darkness comes the light. Consider the following. Think of those you care about; imagine them mourning when you die and ask yourself how much sorrow you would wish them to bear. The answer would surely be neither too much nor too long. You would wish them to come to terms with grief, and thereafter to remember the best of the past with joy. You would wish them to continue with life hopefully. If that is what we wish for those we leave behind when we die, then that is what we must believe would be desired by those who have already died. Today, let us be daring enough in the middle of our shock to remember him with happiness and try to celebrate the times you have spent together. Tribute Roland’s mother Rose, assisted by his father Jeremy, has spent the last four difficult weeks gathering memories of their son from diaries, writings, family and friends. Indeed, Rose compiled fifteen pages of thoughts, and while they are all precious, I fear I will have to condense them for this afternoon. But I hope that by the end of this commemoration you will all feel, though sad at his loss, nevertheless happy to have shared in some part of his life. Roland was born on 18 March 1980 at Luton & Dunstable General Hospital. There were immediate complications with the baby having to be resuscitated, but happily he survived although he had twisted feet, and had plaster casts put on when he was three days old and an operation at the age of two. His feet caused him psychological problems for the rest of his life. Roland was in and out of plaster casts or special boots for a couple of years. They were joined by a metal bar, to keep his feet angled a certain way, but didn’t prevent him creating his own special way of crawling, and he had no trouble getting to where he could grab things he shouldn’t. He had to wear the boots at night, only becoming free of them when he was nearly five. It is no wonder the poor child would have occasional bad dreams about not being able to move his legs right into adulthood, being left forever self-conscious of slightly less than perfect legs and feet. Despite this early set-back he was an alert smiley baby, always charming with visitors especially in visits to and from grandparents in Stourbridge and Abergavenny, where he and his brothers would frequently stay. The year he was one Jeremy bought him a plastic toy box on castors; it was a great hit with Roland who alternated between pushing it around and climbing into it to sit there with a silly grin on his face. He liked Jonathan or Jacob to push him about in it. He began to be an escape artist - first learning to drag a chair to the door and stand on it to open the door - then squeezing through the bars on the garden gate. He would be found going off down the drive on his hands and knees. Roland did his first real walking at a protest picnic in a park in Luton. His first camping trip was to Worthy Farm in Somerset - but not for the Glastonbury Festival yet. The family were there for the Ecology Party summer gathering. He was out in the sunshine, hearing people playing music, messing about in an old tin bath in the children’s area Still during his first year, Roland was taken for the first of many visits to beautiful houses in Broom near Hagley, and elsewhere, where Vi and Bert were acting as house sitters. Sometimes Roland would stay with them at these places for a few nights, having the space to play in the large rooms and grounds and these times were especially good when his cousins Laura and, later, Catherine were there too. By the time Roland was aged two he was being taken swimming but that never became an enthusiasm. He much preferred playing with a hosepipe and paddling pool in the garden with Jonathan and Jacob or walking in the wood behind the house with Jeremy. A move was made to Bromsgrove during Roland’s second year. He would sit on the swing in the apple tree singing to himself over and over a song he made up, ‘Who is the goosting in the wapple tree?’ So ‘goosting’ became another word for bird in the household. With both his parents working, help was to hand from Lin, his childminder, and then, when Roland was three, from Joe and Irene, who shared the home for a while. Roland used to get Grandma Irene to run with his pushchair to his shouts of ‘Run, Grandma. Run.’ Fun was had that year in his birthday Spiderman suit eating his Spiderman cake made by Granny Vi. Granny and Bert have these words for today: Many people come into our lives and are swiftly gone. Others come and stay a while, then sadly they too have to leave us, but they live on in our hearts for ever. Good days were taken when Jeremy took the boys to the Clent Hills, Kinver Edge or Cannon Hill Park, and sliding down the Lickey Hills on Slide-a-Rides. On one occasion the family went on a Watch expedition in the Wyre Forest. It was while watching Jonathan pond dipping that Roland sat down in the stream. His bottom half was soaked and it was cold so Jeremy had to put his sleeveless jumper on Roland; it came down to his feet, and he spent the rest of the day wearing it. So many more places were visited too, all involving the countryside and natural pursuits. Roland started Meadows School playgroup still in his third year and the family moved to Highbury, a Victorian house on Stourbridge Road, which his Grandma and Grandpa bought for all the family to live in together. Grandma Irene has chosen this poem for today: IRENE If I should go before the rest of you, Joyce Grenfell MUSIC Rush: Rivendell Memories of his fourth year include a holiday with Granny and Bert, camping near Newquay in Cornwall, visits to the theatre, a trip on the Severn Valley steam train, walking increasing miles with the Ramblers Association, digging a huge hole in the garden with his brothers to make a camp and being one of the three kings in a nativity play. In 1985 - the year he was five, Roland started Meadows First School. Many interesting and varied family outings continued and a move was made to Penmanor in Finstall where Jeremy and Rose still live. Over the next few years of his First School education, the school’s report often spoke of a child who achieved well, one with a lovely sense of humour, but one who could possibly do more if his nature to daydream wasn’t so apparent. It was during these early years that Rose began reading Tolkien to him - a pleasure she shared with all the boys. Jonathan will read The Road Goes ever On and On: JONATHAN The Road goes ever on and on The Road goes ever on and on J.R.R. Tolkien The ages of six and seven saw Roland playing outside now that they lived in a quiet, leafy cul-de-sac, and joining in with local children. His interest was still with nature and animals, and Roland made lovely little drawings of some of the animals following a school trip to Dudley Zoo. The first of many visits to Sidmouth in Devon were made where Grandma and Grandpa had moved to. Many holidays were taken there over the next few years, walking through The Byes, messing about in pebbles, sand, sea, and rock pools, and visiting surrounding places. The family also went on a caravan holiday on the Lleyn Peninsula where Roland and his brothers played on the beach, climbed Snowdon, went to Caernarfon Castle, and played endless games of Monopoly when the Welsh rain confined them to the caravan. And so this young boy grew through the years. He began piano and karate lessons, although both were eventually given up. He had fun, he had interesting times and still he continued to dream – his mind no doubt filled with thoughts that he first put in a poem at the age of eight and read out at school assembly. When older he would express some of his thoughts in his own writing. As with all children, by the ages of eight and beyond, Roland began to assert his own agenda, not always a conforming one. But still the good times continued, with Rose remembering especially the time when they all stayed at Monmouth Youth Hostel, when they went into a tiny country church and Roland sat at the organ and began to play. She also recalled the day of a Meadows School trip to the Wyre Forest when Roland got lost with four other children. He had enjoyed sitting and quietly watching a nearby deer during that time. The coach had to wait 50 minutes for them to be found. On another day when Roland walked up from school to meet Rose at Lea Hospital where she was working as a secretary, one of the nurses had some feral kittens in a basket. Roland just had to bring one home. She was Elsie, the black and white longhaired cat that they still have. During his ninth year, Roland started at Parkside Middle School, where he seemed to settle, continuing to enjoy drawing unusual representations of things. The following year he began playing chess with Jeremy, and visited Torquay to watch the British Chess Championships, eventually becoming Parkside School chess champion in 1992. Jacob had a skateboard when Roland was eleven. He soon acquired one too and became an enthusiastic skater especially when Jeremy built a huge ramp in the garden for them. His skill at chess improved, computer games were keenly played, but at school he began to understand the word detention. Luke was a friend he saw a lot of at the age of thirteen. He later moved away, but he and Roland kept in touch. In 1994 Roland started at North Bromsgrove High School. Despite being an intelligent boy, having many interests including visiting the theatre at Stratford with his parents, by the age of fifteen he had no interest in school and was excluded for a while. It is in the nature of young people worldwide to challenge the rules of society, to seek their own freedoms and way of life. They are risk takers - to a certain extent this is how they grow and develop. I have no doubt that the teenage Roland would have agreed with this poem by Janet Rand: To laugh is to risk appearing the fool. The problem for Roland was that the risks he was taking led to addiction, an addiction he overcame for a while, but one which, eventually, led to heartbreak for all. Rose will read a poignant extract from Tolkien: ROSE 'The star-glass?' muttered Frodo, as one answering out of sleep, hardly comprehending. 'Why yes! Why had I forgotten it? A light when all other lights go out! And now indeed light alone can help us'. Slowly his hand went to his bosom, and slowly he held aloft the Phial of Galadriel. For a moment it glimmered, faint as a rising star struggling in heavy earthward mists, and then as its power waxed, and hope grew in Frodo's mind, it began to burn, and kindled to a silver flame, a minute heart of dazzling light. The darkness receded from it until it seemed to shine in the centre of a globe of airy crystal, and the hand that held it sparkled with white fire. Frodo gazed in wonder at this marvellous gift that he had so long carried, not guessing its full worth and potency. Then holding the star aloft, Frodo, hobbit of the Shire, walked steadily down to meet the eyes. J.R.R. Tolkien: The Two Towers Back at school again, Roland began going out with Rachel who was very special to him, encouraging him to take up the guitar. He started on a course in horticulture at Pershore College. He was enjoying this but was unable to find a work placement that he could get to, so he had to give up after a few weeks. Roland went to his first of many Glastonbury Festivals in 1997 - the muddy one. He went as a litter picker with James who had been a friend for some time. There was the time Roland and James turned up at home late at night, having rolled two partly used kegs of beer up from Bromsgrove. Rose was woken up by clunking noises as they got the things up the stairs to Roland’s room. Then they somehow managed to open one and the beer came out all over his floor. She went down into the kitchen to find him and James holding beer glasses up to try to catch the beer that was seeping through the ceiling. Roland liked all sorts of music. He acquired some mixing decks and spent hours playing on them. He had lots of tapes, and went to raves sometimes. He continued playing the guitar and was improving all the time. At first he played Jeremy’s guitars, but then Jeremy bought him his own electric guitar and amplifier. A song bought in America was special for him. Let us listen to it: MUSIC Jackson Browne: These Days Roland went to America with Bron (his girl friend for the past three years), for three months in 2002 by invitation of her parents, Nita and Bill, in Oregon. He wanted to do this very much and saw it as the way to make a new start. He went on a methadone programme and by the time they were ready to go in July, he was clean. Jacob has chosen an extract from a book called The Basketball Diaries to read today: JACOB This is from a book by Jim Carroll, about how he was a kid in New York in the 1960s. He was a drug addict, and by the end of the book he wanted to be pure. This passage makes me think of Roland. WINTER 66 I woke up screaming early this morning. It was a dream, not a nightmare, a beautiful dream I could never imagine in a thousand nods. I was swimming in a giant pool, underwater all through time, though it didn’t matter. I think the century was wrong; everyone was dressed old fashioned. And I saw this girl next to me who wasn’t beautiful really until she smiled. And I felt the smile come at me and heat waves following, soaking through my body and out through my fingertips in shafts of color. And her face is still with me, this strange European face with horribly sad sunken eyes that were like some proof she had never smiled before, until then, and I held her for a minute and she cried and left. And these parents were waiting for her and she was slightly lame, I could see, and they all shoved quick into this old car and drove off. Then I was on the back of the car yelling where was she going and they were taking her to this ‘home’; they kept saying the ‘home’. I saw her look back while they kept saying that word and then I woke. And all day I knew there was an incredible love somewhere in my world … and I felt sad, needing to explain it but I can’t because it belonged to me; to anyone else it was just wet images. And I got this incredible warm beautiful pain in my veins now trying to sort it all out. It’s a long time gone that I have dreamt these dreams in winter. Prior to the visit to America, Roland had been improving his writing skills, reading widely and voraciously, always enjoying his music and having a large circle of friends with Bron. His writing included stories in different styles, plays, poetry or song lyrics - usually unfinished; he had a way with words. Now he felt the time had come to sort out his life, and he needed to get away from Bromsgrove to do it. He had hoped to join a course at Ruskin College, Oxford. It was around this time when he wrote My Girl: My girl lies in a bed across town all alone, This town has done me in; I’ve been swallowed by this town. A handful of people watch the tracks up and down the platform. I think she will always be my girl. I watched the people watch the tracks out of sight - Stone carries my body, stone carries me. America was a wonderful experience for Roland. He flew first to New York, seeing Manhattan from the air, and then across the USA to Portland. He mainly stayed in Oregon and visited lakes and rivers and mountains and woods, an Indian reservation, and met lots of nice people, and shopped in interesting towns. He spent time with a guitar maker - one of Bill’s friends. He had fun driving a beat-up old car on Bill’s land, and driving jet-ski boats on the lake, and once he capsized while on his own out of sight of everyone. He was taken to spend some days in the Lake Tahoe area on the California/Nevada border, including a visit to a casino in Reno, where he lost $30. He became fascinated by the history of that area, which has many connections with the settlers who endured terrible hardships crossing the mountains to the West Coast in the 1840s. He spent a couple of days in San Francisco, and travelled back north along the Pacific coast, and through the redwood forests, seeing spectacular forest fires. He grew strong and healthy doing outdoor yard and building work for Bill and other relatives. One of Bill’s friends offered Roland a job if he could ever get back there. He came home full of optimism, planning to return to America somehow with a work permit. The optimism was short-lived. Back in Bromsgrove things fell apart, Bron and he split up, and he turned back to heroin as the only way to comfort himself. Let us pause for a moment while you reflect on your personal memories of Roland. As we do so we will listen to a Ry Cooder tune, Great Dream of Heaven, and Blackbird by The Beatles - a tune which Roland was always incorporating into his own music. MUSIC Great Dream of Heaven / Blackbird ******************** Rose writes: Roland was extremely troubled for the first half of this year. But in the summer he became happier and he made a decision - he didn't have to live this hopeless life. He had made a new friend, Jess, who made him feel better. He didn’t want to be the way he was, and he was going to change it. He would have to get away from Bromsgrove to be able to do that. Roland went for an interview at Coleg Harlech thinking he could get on a methadone programme in Harlech, while being a student. The interviewer was enthusiastic about him, saying he was articulate, intelligent and well read but, unfortunately, the rules of the college had changed this year. They could now take only students who had been free from drugs for eighteen months. Roland felt sick with disappointment. Now - somehow - he really would get off the drugs. He tried twice to just stop - without any help - but he couldn’t do it. So he went to the Community Drugs Team and asked to be put on a methadone programme. He was put on the waiting list, which is several weeks long. The NHS rules have changed, and there is no guarantee of being accepted. Meanwhile he was considering his options for what he would do once he was stabilised on the programme. He thought he would like to try for Pershore College again - he would work with trees and nature. On 24 October Roland died from a heroin overdose. He had been working his way up the waiting list and we believe he was just a couple of weeks away from starting the methadone treatment. An assessment appointment arrived in the post for him the morning after he died. We chose to bury him at Westall Park Woodland Burial Ground because he loved the countryside and he had been planning to work with trees. Various people have said he was special and beautiful. He was tall and blond with clear blue eyes and long eyelashes. But he would never believe anyone who told him he was good looking. He was quiet and thoughtful, with a droll sense of humour. His gentle nature was always there underneath, but sometimes it was difficult to communicate with him. There were many times when his need for the drugs caused him to lie to us or take money if he found it in the house. He hated being like that, and would often apologise for it. He and I were close. He loved his family and we loved him, and sometimes he told me how sorry he was for turning out the way he had. He would ask me to walk with him along the lanes and by the canal - and then he would talk to me about himself. In small ways and in more important ones he would do caring things for people - he gave the kiss of life to a friend last year. His friends say that if he saw a fight he would try to sort it out, and he didn’t do or say spiteful things, although sometimes he might have had cause to. He had good times with his friends. We have discovered since he died that many people loved him. Andrew says he was funny. Trant remembers them riding two on a bike and weaving all over the road before crashing sideways on to the ground. Jacob remembers telling Roland to hit him on the jaw as hard as he could; to his surprise Roland did, and it hurt. Jacob and Roland were each other’s best friend. They had done everything together until Jacob went away, and they understood each other completely. We are lucky to live where there are no street lights, so we can see the stars clearly. Roland would frequently see shooting stars while he was walking home and sometimes on a clear night he would call me outside to look at the sky with him. Whenever I look at the stars I will think of him. Bron was still his great friend after they split up; he would do anything for her. She said when he died ‘we’ve lost the music’. He composed lots of music - ‘sparkly, glittery tunes’ as she described them, and that’s exactly right. But they were all in his head, not written down or recorded. I treasure my memories of the times he would sit on the freezer in the kitchen, playing those tunes gently while I worked. No words can express how much we will all miss him. Only a few months ago Roland wrote: For a long time I’ve been lacking in self-respect. I’ve mistreated the important people in my life because I’ve felt very bitter. I know I’m lucky to have good people in my life who care about my well being. These people are Bronwyn and my family especially Rose. I see now that I’m not useless and I can be a responsible adult. For such a long time I have felt that happiness was only possible through drugs and I suppose that until recently my … And that was where he finished. The family are left with unimaginable emptiness and grief – possibly full of questions and ‘what ifs’. They are left looking for answers, which may never be found or may not even exist. We are all a little diminished when one so young dies, and I say to Jeremy and Rose not to distress yourselves with imaginings and regrets. Above all be gentle with yourselves - go forward with your future plans together. He will be with you in your minds and hearts. The best way to honour your relationship is by the quality of your continued living. We have just one life – a life that can be fragile and needs tending. Let us all look into our own lives, determined to learn something from this so sad event, regarding the words taken from the Ancient Sanskrit: Look to this day, for it is life, Thank you all for sharing in today’s commemoration. You are invited to stay for refreshments if you wish. Enjoy the afternoon together. MUSIC Compilation of music Roland enjoyed |
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