At 12:58am on Tuesday, 8 September, my dad died peacefully after a short battle with lung and liver cancer.
He was surrounded by his family.
Dad didn't want a funeral. That was his choice, and we respected it. But because there wasn't one, I've realised I never really got the chance to stand up and talk about him. To eulogise my dad. To say what he meant to me and what losing him feels like. So this is me trying.
It's almost impossible to sum up someone who has simply been there your entire life. Dad was just... Dad.
He could turn almost anything into a joke, usually an inappropriate one. Half the time he'd never even make it to the punchline because he'd start laughing at his own joke and completely lose it.
Anyone who knew him will know exactly the laugh I'm talking about. Fuck, I'm going to miss that laugh.
Since he died, people have told me things that have hit me harder than I expected. Friends have told me Dad was like a second father to them. Others have told me about the influence he had on their lives, sometimes in ways I never even knew about.
I don't think you can ask for much more from a life than to leave that kind of mark on people.
Dad did a lot in his life. Music was a huge part of it. He started playing guitar when he was six, played in bands, made the Victorian final of Hoadley's Battle of the Bands in 1968, became an arranger and composer and even wrote symphonies. But those aren't really the things I think about when I think about Dad.
I think about how much he loved music and how much he wanted other people to love it too. Even later in life he was teaching older people to play instruments and bringing people together through music.
He believed music could heal the heart and the soul.
He gave a lot of himself to people in other ways too. As a Justice of the Peace and an Independent Third Person, he spent years sitting beside vulnerable people during police interviews, making sure somebody was there to look out for them.
After retiring from banking, he also spent years working in the funeral industry, helping families through some of the worst days of their lives. There's something very strange about thinking about that now that we're the family trying to work out how to live with someone missing. And the truth is, we nearly had to do this a long time ago.
In 2008, we almost lost Dad.
He suffered a heart attack and several strokes and ended up in a coma for weeks. There was a very real possibility back then that he wasn't going to come home. But he did. And somehow, we got another 18 years with him.
Right now, when all I want is more time, I'm trying to remember what an incredible gift those 18 years actually were.
Eighteen more birthdays.
Eighteen more Christmases.
Eighteen more years of conversations, music, stupid jokes, phone calls and that ridiculous laugh.
Eighteen years of ordinary days that we very nearly never got.
I'm so fucking grateful for them.
It doesn't make losing him now hurt any less. If anything, it makes me realise just how lucky we were to have him for as long as we did. Because eventually the extra time ran out. And I wasn't ready for it to.
I have a voicemail from Dad from my birthday this year.
It's nothing profound. It's just my dad wishing me a happy birthday. When he left it, it was completely ordinary. Now it's one of the most precious things I have. Because I can still hear him. Every birthday for the rest of my life, I'm going to listen to that voicemail. No matter how old I get, I'll still get to hear my dad wishing me happy birthday.
#FuckCancer
SIR PATRICK STEWART (1940-2026)
Before everything else, Patrick was defined by being born and bred in Yorkshire, the proud county in the north of England which he loved to the end. You could hear it in his accented voice and in the stern honesty with which he told you what he thought and felt. Yorkshiremen have no truck with half-truths or avoidance of big issues. He wore his heart on his sleeve, which made him a man to rely on, to admire and in my case, love.
We first met as ambitious young actors with the Royal Shakespeare Company half a century ago but we weren’t in the same productions. My first strong memory was a few years later, meeting him in the street in central London when he told me about an offer to take over a leading part in 'Star Trek'. “But Patrick think of your stage career in the UK. Do you really want to risk—getting lost in Hollywood for years and years?”. Well, he took the risk and thank goodness for us all that he did for not just his devoted Trekkies but film and theatre audiences, who marvelled at his using international celebrity to star in a string of cinema successes ('X-Men' of course) and in great classical plays by Shakespeare, Ibsen, Arthur Miller, Peter Shaffer, Pinter and Beckett at Stratford-upon-Avon, in London’s West End and on Broadway.
America was his adopted home, where he met his adored Sunny who has cared for him through sickness and health, through thick and thin. But he never forsook his origins: and the proudest achievement of the most respected and beloved actor of his generation on either side of the Atlantic, was his appointment as Chancellor of Huddersfield University in Yorkshire.
His farewell performance in 'Avengers: Doomsday' is yet to be seen.
Ian McKellen 29 October 2026
Photo: University of Huddersfield
There was a guy who was genuinely mad about me saying this was a 5 star match yesterday. Insane to me. I could watch this match every 6 hours for the rest of my life
re: Roman, @HeyHeyItsConrad is right, but man, if I'd just bagged $700,000+ selling a belt, I'd be spending less time replying to a bunch of angry twitter folks and more time doing this....