From Dad

They say this is the hardest thing a parent will ever have to do. And that’s undeniably true. But it’s also my greatest privilege and honour to pay tribute to our beautiful boy Connor. There’s so much love here – love for our family, love between friends and so much love for Connor. I’d like to thank you all for the outpouring of care, compassion and words of comfort. The response from friends and family all over the world has been truly overwhelming and it means so much to us as we collectively share the pain of his passing and remember the joy he brought to our lives.

There’s a saying that the light that burns twice as bright burns half as long. And Connor’s light burned so very brightly.

There are many words we could use to describe Connor – he was caring, kind, compassionate, loving, gentle, full of grace and understanding, courageous, adventurous, cheeky, mischievous at times. He always tried to see the best in others, always keen to offer help, always there when you needed him.

Connor lived life on his own terms. He was never one to conform to the ideals that society often pushes – he didn’t pursue material wealth, strive for the latest gadget, seek status or a lofty career. He sought a simpler and more authentic way of being in the world and found his fulfilment in connection with others. It was this quality of connection that really defined him.

One tribute we received from a friend in Germany summed up how many of his friends felt about him … “He was such a special human being. Everything felt so easy in his presence. You could just be who you are”. Connor had a way of being with you and listening with such interest and engagement – you knew he was fully present. Not distracted by what was on his phone or pondering something else. In spite of his inner struggles, he was always right there with you in the moment.

This hunger for connection took Connor all over the world. You only need to look at some of the photographs that Connor took to see the spark of joy he brought into the lives of others. From Australia, Fiji, Malaysia, Thailand, Germany, France, Poland and of course across Scotland – his photos are filled with happy, smiling, laughing people. This connection is what energised him.

Connor loved being outdoors – whether it was camping, hillwalking or cycling. He especially loved to sit around a campfire in good company. The musical and meditative piece you will hear “Sit Around The Fire” is one he personally shared with us and spoke to both his philosophy as well as his enjoyment of connecting with others around an open fire. You will no doubt have heard of his passion for jumping off of things. From his early years he was passionate about skateboarding and in-line skating and latterly in jumping off cliffs and piers into pools, lochs and open water. I like to think that in those moments of falling and feeling the wind rushing through his hair he felt truly free.

There’s been talk of Connor being fearless but that wasn’t the case – he was courageous. Courage means being willing to act in the presence of fear. Like all of us he would look at something and assess the risk – and where we’d all go “looks a bit high”, “looks a bit cold”, “looks a bit windy” – he’d see the same situation but then he had this amazing ability to just say “F*** It!” and do it anyway.

Over the last few weeks, as our family have been coming to terms with the loss, we’ve come to such a deeper appreciation for how remarkable a life Connor lived. In the words of Joni Mitchell, “Don’t it always seem to go That you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone”. Connor, if we appeared to take you for granted, we’re truly sorry.

With that said, Connor knew he was loved, right up to the end. Speaking for myself I know that I have no regrets in that there wasn’t a single thing that was left unsaid between us. There wasn’t a single chat or video call where I didn’t tell him “I love you” and I know that he loved all of us.

Connor was right about so many things – sometimes very wise beyond his years. But he was wrong about one thing. About 4 weeks before Connor died, he called me in deep despair. He told me he’d lost all hope that his mental health issues could be fixed – he was giving up the struggle. He had no fight left in him and had decided it was time for him to go. I reassured him he was loved and we would do all we could to support him – and we absolutely did in the weeks that followed, getting him lined up with mental health support, checking in on him. And he seemed brighter, happier and more settled – we thought he’d turned the corner but now understand that this was only because he saw an end to his suffering in sight. But his words that still echo for me, and always will – he said “It’s ok Dad – you’s will no miss me that much”. How wrong he was.

I’d like to leave you with a couple of thoughts – as a family we feel his absence so very deeply – but we are resolved to not let this loss define him. We resolve to remember him not for how he left us but for the remarkable person he truly was. And for us that remain, we will not be defined by his loss but rather we will forever be defined by the love he gave us, the way he lived his life and the example he set. We resolve to live more like him and I encourage you to do the same – to live life with more gratitude, love, compassion, presence, connectedness, grace, understanding and courage.

Finally, as Andrew shared on Monday evening their family’s lived experience of losing their son, and Connor’s close friend, Darragh to suicide 9 months ago. He remarked on those small moments where you’re shopping and see his favourite food or you open a book and an old birthday card falls out and you feel the pain of loss once more. When this happens, and it will, I’d ask you to please give yourself a moment, take a breath and then smile … and remember him fondly, with love and deep gratitude that we had him in our lives. 

You’re at peace now our beautiful boy.