Dylan Howells (17 Aug 1974 - 27 Jul 2016)

In the year 2000 I met Dylan at work. I had started at the company where he was working as the System Test Manager and as I was being introduced to my new colleagues, he - so I was told later - told one of his team that I was the woman he would marry.

In 2003, that statement came true and Dylan made me the happiest woman in the world as we vowed to be together 'until death us do part'. Sadly, this came true much sooner than we could have imagined but whilst I will acutely miss the man who made me so very happy, made me laugh till I cried, made me feel loved and special, and gave me the two most incredible and wonderful children, I know that they and I were the luckiest people alive to have had him in our lives as husband and father. He was my world and always will be.

Julia

Eulogy by Warren

When Julia asked me if I would speak today I was both overwhelmed and honoured. Overwhelmed emotionally of course but also at how I would fit a lifetime of friendship into a few short minutes. I was very aware that every one of you could have got up here and spoken about your own memories of Dylan and how much he meant to you, so I wanted to try and say something both personal and universal.

As I say, I also felt honoured to have been asked but more importantly to be able to say that Dylan was my friend, this has been the case for as long as I can remember and it will always remain so. Whether he was your mate or your son, your brother, your dad or husband, whatever, he was always above everything else a friend and for many of us the best we had. Each of you will know him from a different part of your life, maybe from family gatherings back in Wales, or afternoons at Stamford Bridge watching Chelsea, perhaps school or university, or swimming and triathlon training, or just as a friendly face at the school drop off, whichever it was, it was a given that he would make those experiences, however mundane, better than they otherwise would have been.

Like all truly great people, Dylan had a way of not just enhancing the moment, but at the same time making those around him feel better about themselves, we saw the best of us reflected in his warmth and kindness. It is no exaggeration to say that he could walk into a room of strangers and leave them all feeling like friends. It takes real talent to play the joker and for nobody to feel like the joke is on them, but Dylan always made it look effortless.

I first met Dylan at nursery in around 1978, we went to most of the same schools and remained friends throughout. When I moved into my first flat almost 20 years ago he found out the one upstairs was for sale and bought it, we were best man at each other’s weddings, we shared countless days and nights out together as well as more pints of beer and curries than I can count. Throughout all of those years I don’t think we ever had a cross word, not even when he and Garry went through a phase of drunken lightsaber fights on the communal stairs of our flats at 3am when I had to go to work in the morning.

Equally when things did get serious his patience was limitless and his selflessness a constant. Less than three weeks ago when I was facing some challenges he turned up on my doorstep at midnight to talk some sense into me and make sure I did the right thing. He didn’t have to do that and I certainly didn’t ask him to, he was going on holiday the next day, but he knew how important it was to me, “do nothing till I get there” he said “we need to talk about this”. It was the last time I saw him. It’s no exaggeration to say that he made me a better person on more occasions than I care to remember.

Indeed, Dylan always had a knack of getting it right, whether it was in finding Julia, his wife and soul mate, his decision to retire at 27, in retrospect a stroke of genius, or perhaps most importantly his ability, with Julia, to raise, in Tom and Cerys, two of the loveliest and kindest children I have the privilege to know. His pride in what they achieved came through in everything he did, but as always he got the balance just right. He was proud but not boastful, encouraging but never pushy.

When it came to Cerys’ sporting endeavours, he instinctively made the right decisions both for her and for the rest of his family. Her astonishing success, never at the expense of Tom and his sunshine filled personality remains testament to that.

In that area of his life he learned from the best in his own parents Brian and Doreen, whose lives were equally filled with swimming galas and training sessions while balancing the needs of Dylan and Bethan as they were growing up. The fact that they remained such close siblings, running marathons, training together and supporting one another throughout their lives, demonstrates further what a good job of parenting they did. I have no doubt Tom and Cerys will follow in those footsteps. Family was everything to Dylan, and Dylan was everything to his family.

Dylan’s parenting skills were indicative of his ability to walk that line, of knowing what was right while never appearing arrogant or conceited and that’s what made him the rock that he was for so many of us. It’s no surprise then that in our younger, more single and slightly hairier days, Martin and I christened him Yoda or the ginger Jedi, somehow he just knew, somehow he was always right. The tragedy is that while he was so often right, fate has got it so very wrong on this occasion, but it’s up to all of us to be the better person that Dylan made us, today and everyday and in doing so keep him alive in our hearts. If the last few weeks have taught us anything it’s that we must take nothing for granted, especially each other.

I’m sure we’ve all spent time recently thinking of the countless moments he made us laugh or was there for us when we needed his support. If we feel lost now it’s at least partly because in this, the biggest emotional trauma some of us have ever faced, he isn’t here to help us deal with it. I still expect to be sitting across the pub table from him in a few days asking him what I should do next because somehow he would have known and his smile and kind words would, as always, have helped me to move forward. I’m still clinging on to that possibility, because as it stands, like so many of you, I’m really not sure what to do right now without him around. All I know is that he would have insisted I didn’t give up, that I was there for the people who needed me and that I focused on the good times of which there were too many to mention.

I’d like to finish, by mentioning one of the few times Dylan did get it wrong. While preparing for today I received a lovely e-mail from Bethan and Doreen filled with memories and thoughts, which I hope I’ve done at least some justice to. Within that Doreen mentioned something Dylan had said to her the week before he died. "You don't
know how lucky you are mum, surrounded by your family and grandchildren”. Not true mate, we always knew exactly how lucky we were to have had you in our lives.

Some words from Cerys about her Dad:

My Dad was one of the most important people to me in the whole world. I loved him from the very bottom of my heart to the top.

It is very hard for me to say bye bye but I know that no matter where I am, he will be watching me with all of his love.
I want him to know that he will always be with me even though I cannot see him.

Here will be here in my head (point to brain) and here in my heart (point to heart).