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A few words on my father's life and hope
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God be merciful to me a sinner

Dad
I'd like to say few words about my father. Robert James Gibson Soper was born on 12th November 1940 in Lincolnshire in the dark, early years of WW2, just after the ferocious Battle for Britain had concluded in the air. He was brought up in Chagford, Devon, a scenic village in the edge of the bleak but beautiful Moor in South Devon. My first recollection of him was in London, when he was still a medical student. He was always active, engaged with work, projects and ideas. He loved carpentry and modelling and we loved his projects too, as he shared them with us, the climbing frame, the tree house in the back garden, the bookshelves, the planes & kits. He had a passion too for old cars and we spent many happy hours riding in the back seats of some, or in the pillion of his little bubble car, and a few less happy hours waiting for them to be fixed! He also loved books and instilled in us a passion for reading and for study. I spent some hours with him, looking down a microscope distinguishing different species of moss. He had a restless sense of curiosity. He especially relished & loved to share tales of exploration and adventure of travel in hostile and difficult terrain. He enjoyed music and there were cheerful, boisterous times of brass playing with friends & family. Unlike most of the family, I have not shared his fiery passion for sailing - but this too excited his mind and often engaged his conversation. He had a broad fascination with yacht designers and designs.

When he travelled to the States for work in the 70s, he relished the freedom, the potential and the mobility of American society. He had a special love of New York, its pulsing pace and its spicy casserole of races, cultures & languages.

When I started as fresh young doctor, calling from the US, he refused to allow me to settle for the standards of my contemporaries, but despite a gruelling timetable, he pressed me to aspire higher & stricter in the daily care of patients. When I attended rounds with him at Beth Israel or the Metropolitan he rejected the mediocre, stereotyped answers, he wanted radical, better solutions. He trained & retrained & retrained again in different fields, in different disciplines to keep his mind active & his work effective.

When he met and married Lisa, we knew he had found the great love of his life. There was a deep and strong affinity between them, a deepening & maturing love that has stretched over the decades. We have come to love & respect her and hers too.

His loss has been long expected, indeed I am surprised how long he has lived since his admission before the pandemic, after seeing his scan. But in a strange way, though these months have seen much loss of dignity, natural strength and of course his mental acuity and power, there has also been at times a palpable happiness, a contentment and a resting in these last few years, thanks to the kindness and love of his wife, Montrez and all his dedicated & amazing team of carers, to whom he and we owe such a great debt of thanks.

Today we all wish to bid him a fond but formal farewell, a dear father, a friend, a senior colleague, counsellor, mentor and beloved companion, our dear Bob. God bless.

But for those of you who fear God, I want to add a word of some hope & comfort. To the best of my knowledge my father never claimed to be a saint. When I offered to leave a Bible in the house, he said he would rather I did not. If we ever discussed such matters, it was brief, fiery and he would usually change the topic. But in his last few years, even before he lost his memory, as he came to the UK, there was a notable mellowing. I became a Christian through the witness of my aunt, Mary Rose, who is with us today. I don't recall her ringing my father's house before. In 2014 my wife spoke to him gently about eternity, he said then, 'keep praying for me'. On a few occasions I offered to pray with my father for forgiveness through Jesus the Messiah. The Lord Jesus once gave a simple parable of two men praying, but there was a sting. (Lk.18.9) The self-confident, religious man was turned away, the sinful, secular one was accepted, when he cried, 'God be merciful to me a sinner'. In 2016, my father simply said, 'I'm not ready for that yet, Charles.' In 2017, we prayed and just as soon as the prayer was complete, Mary Rose rang & we talked about what had just happened, it seemed most significant. 2,561 years ago, Daniel the Hebrew prophet wrote, those that now sleep in the ashes of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, others to shame & everlasting contempt. (Dan.12.2) I know which I deserve. Only Divine forgiveness & mercy can prepare us for death. The Lord Jesus said, 'I AM the Way, the Truth and the Life' (Jn.14.6), 'I AM the Resurrection and the Life, he that believes in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live' (Jn.11.25) I gently urge each one here to heed this call & also prepare for that last journey.

God be merciful to me a sinner.




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