Colin Kirton - A Tribute to Eric Kirton - video
I also want to take this opportunity to thank you all for your many kindnesses to us in various ways during the time of Dad’s illness – the many emails, SMSes, calls, and practical help provided to us by so many of you too numerous to mention, are all precious to us, and although we may not have been able to respond individually to each of you, please be assured that your love for Dad and for us is treasured and deeply appreciated and we ask the Lord’s blessings upon each of you. I also need to perhaps explain why we have limited the eulogies tonight to the few people you have heard. This was a particular request of Dad’s before he left us. He suggested that it would be better if we ask certain close friends to speak on behalf of the others in various spheres of his life rather than have an open mike for everyone to share. Being the practical man that he is, his words were, “These things can drag on for hours and hours. Keep it short and sweet.” And in his typical dry sense of humour, he added, “I don’t want people wishing they were in the coffin instead of me!” But we do want to be able to give each and every one of you who feels they would like to pay tribute to Dad an opportunity to do so. So we have set up a website in his honour. The Internet address is simply www.ekirton.com and you may visit the website to email your messages of tribute, your memories, your stories, etc, that will then later be posted on the website for others to read and be encouraged by. You can also read a short biography of Dad’s life on the website. * * * Of all of us here tonight, we his family probably saw him up close and personal the most. I know in many people’s eyes he was just short of a living legend. To us he was simply our dad and our grandpa. I can tell you for sure though that what you saw was what you got. He was a real man, who lived his life and shared his life passionately with people. People mattered to him more than anything else, and of all people, he loved his family the most. I remember when my parents were deciding on whether to send us to a missions boarding school in India or have us schooled in local public schools. This was before the days of homeschooling, and most other missionary families were opting for overseas boarding schools as the only practical option. But Dad and Mum decided that it was important to have the family together at such an important stage of our growing up, and opted to school us in the local public schools instead. I remember how Dad ensured that we had an annual family holiday together – one week in Fraser’s Hill at Kuantan Bungalow. But Dad was never keen to visit Fraser’s Hill during the school holidays when it was crowded and busy. So we always took our family holidays during the school term when we could have the whole of Fraser’s Hill to ourselves! Dad would write a letter to our teachers to inform them why he was taking us out of school for that week, much to the envy of our fellow classmates! And we were not allowed to take school textbooks along with us, because “a holiday is a holiday”. I remember the personal time he spent with each of us when we were growing up. It was Dad who started us off on our hobbies, and particularly one hobby that became a very serious pastime for Laurence and me over the years – our interest in butterflies. It was he and Mum who made us our first butterfly nets and bought us our first books on butterflies. It was Dad who took us out into the forest and introduced us to the wonders of God’s creation. Those many hours spent together in the forests – my Dad, me and my brother – will continue to be precious. Laurence in fact now probably owes his current vocation as an entomologist (insect biologist) at the Forest Research Institute of Malaysia (FRIM) to those early seeds of interest planted by Dad! When his dear wife, our mum, was stricken with illness and bedridden, Dad gave up his dreams and plans at that time. He camped out in hospitals for 7 months and then became caregiver at home in often trying circumstances for 5 years before Mum returned to the Lord. In recent years, with two lovely granddaughters to dote on, Dad would spend up to a month each summer in the US with Carol, her husband Barry and their 2 girls Laura and Dana. Although it was always a long journey for him to make, he would always return rejuvenated and waxing lyrical about his granddaughters. His home was filled with photos of the girls. Even his office PC wallpaper was a photo of his 2 granddaughters. I teased him one day that it was bordering on idolatry! When he was diagnosed with skin cancer immediately after his visit to the States last year, one of the things I think he realised was that he would no longer be able to make those annual trips to the States, and we are thankful to the Lord for making it possible for Carol, Barry and the girls to spend 5 weeks together here with Dad in his final months, and for Carol to remain to help give care until the very end. * * * Dad was also a true mentor to us. Whenever I had difficult issues to weigh through, his advice to me would always be respectful, encouraging, and most of all, filled with godly wisdom. When I was struggling with leaving a lucrative career with a multinational company to serve the Lord in the arts, which at the time seemed somewhat nebulous and vague, and yet seemed a clear burden from God on my heart, I had a long chat with Dad one day. He listened attentively and then when I asked him, “So what do you think?”, his reply was simply this: “Well, if you’re sure that’s what God wants you to do, just do it.” Dad taught us that the whole of our lives is to be lived unto the Lord. He taught us to excel in our studies and our work, but never pushed us or forced us into anything, allowing us to be the special individual unique people that God had created us to be. He also taught us to live in total dependence upon God for all our needs, whether or not we were drawing a regular salary. We lived all our growing up years without a fixed monthly income, totally dependent upon the Lord to provide through others. Remember that this was in a time when the world was much less connected than it is today, when people were less affluent, and when Christian ministry in Malaysia was less developed. Some months we received nothing, some months we received in excess, but true to the Lord’s promise, there was never ever a time when we were lacking. When it came to financing our further studies, the Lord provided miraculously. When it came to purchasing vehicles, the Lord provided miraculously. (Dad would often quip when someone admired his new vehicle, “Oh, I would never be able to afford it if I wasn’t a missionary!”) When it came to meeting our Mum’s medical expenses, the Lord provided more than miraculously. And even in these last few months when medical expenses have been a burden, and Dad’s insurance policies no longer covered him, the Lord has continued to be faithful to provide. Much of that has been through you all, and for that, we are eternally grateful. All our lives, Dad taught us how to live. And in the last 4 months, Dad has taught us how to die. But I have come to also realise that in teaching us how to die, he was in effect continuing to teach us how to live. For Jesus said that the life of discipleship is a life of daily dying, of releasing ourselves from everything that holds us back in our journey with God and bungy-jumping into the arms of God. Death is the final “letting go, and letting God”, the graduation ceremony of how God has challenged us to live. Dad taught us much in the frank conversations we had in his final months, and in the moments of silence, sitting by his side sharing his pain. Dad had specifically requested lower doses of morphine than would normally be given, in order to have as clear a mind as possible. It was at the cost of additional pain, but despite all he endured in his final months, despite his obvious frustrations at times, I never once heard a single angry word or word of complaint from his mouth. Instead, 2 nights before he left us, in a very frustrating moment, hunched on his bedside in the middle of a tumultuous night for him and us, he struggled through heaving breaths to say words of appreciation to my sister and me for our care. His sense of humour remained strong into his final week. When he decided that we would have to stop taking visitors, he said, “I don’t want people stealing my oxygen!” * * * Two years ago, I asked Dad if I could interview him about his life in front of the students of the annual Residential Bible School where both Dad and I have served for many years. In a 2-hour candid interview Larry King style, I asked him probing questions about his life. I thought I knew everything about Dad’s life (you know how children have had to endure their parents’ stories a million times over, right?), but I have to admit that even I learnt a few things about him that evening. My only regret has been that I never recorded that interview for posterity and the blessing of many more. My final question to him was this: “If you could live your life all over again, would you do anything different?” He thought for a moment, and then he simply said, “No.” * * * There are times when I laugh, or say something, or make some physical gesture, or pass a mirror, and I catch a fleeting glimpse of Dad. I know that, like my siblings, it’s simply because I have his genes. But more than these similarities, it is our prayer that the legacy of life and love that he left us will continue to be poured into our children and theirs for generations to come, and into the lives of everyone who is a part of ours. We are grateful to our heavenly Father, the Giver of all good gifts, for the gift of our Dad. Truly, LORD, your faithfulness continues through all generations. To you be all glory! And Dad, thanks for living out in flesh and blood what it means to be a follower of Jesus. Thanks for being our dad. We love you and we’ll miss you deeply.
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Before I pay tribute to my dad on behalf of the family, I would first like to thank you all for being here this evening with us. In itself, your presence here is already a tribute to Dad that goes far beyond words. Thank you for your support and your encouragement and for sharing these precious moments with us.