On Children
 Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts, 
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, 
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, 
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, 
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, 
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Ed Wing’s Memories of Michael

I first met Mike when I was seven years old. We were in year 3 at Salisbury Cathedral School, I had just started there and exhausted all the pleasantries available to a 7 year old with my classmates. I was by myself during lunch break with no one to talk to and Mike came up to me and asked if I had ever seen the T.V series “Ace Lightening”, a Canadian kids show which, when I look back on it, was in all intents and purposes terrible, but at the time I Loved it and so did Mike. We talked about it for the whole of that lunch break and after that conversation I decided, as 7 year olds are wont to do, that Mike was going to be my best friend.

Though we were never in the same class and didn’t share any lessons Mike remained my friend through Salisbury Cathedral School and would still be my friend though we stopped going to the same school after year 4. Throughout the years we would constantly be at each others houses (and I would constantly be jealous of all the cool stuff he had) and even though it became less frequent in recent years, we would always make time to meet up and hang out whenever we could. Being outside of my social circle especially at university Mike was an important part of my life as he was one of the few people I knew that I could be completely myself with. Michael was and still is my best friend.

I remember first going to Mike’s house, hovering up Mij’s food, and deciding that I would quite like to be adopted. The amazing food aside, the Turnbull’s house was a place of such happiness and the source of countless amazing memories for Michael, myself and anyone else who has had the pleasure to go there. It was in their living room that Michael introduced me to studio Ghibli films (which would become some of my all time favourites) it was in his bedroom that he and I would play monster hunter on our PSP’s as well as a plethora of other games, and it was at their back of their house where mike would show me his various dens and I would do my fareshare of digging in the gigantic pit near their barn.

As we will see from the others talking today Mike meant so much to so many people and anyone here could talk for a solid hour about time spent with him. As cliché as this may sound Michael will live on in our hearts and our minds, and in how we remember him. Each one of us here and everyone else who knew him carries a small piece of Michael with them, a different part to his personality that he gave to us through knowing him and spending time with him. He will stay with us through the memories we have of him and more importantly through the conversations we have about him.  So in the spirit of this beautiful celebration of his life, when he comes up in our conversations we should not downcast our eyes or take on a feeling of solemn mourning but remember him as the amazing, funny, laid back, gentle man he was and will always be in our memories. So although Michael has passed on he will never be truly gone.

Oscar Von Claer’s memories of Michael

Michael was incredibly loved by all who knew him, and still, I cannot help but be surprised and moved by how many friends have been so open and generous in sharing their memories of Michael with me. Summing up a life, even one so prematurely interrupted, is too big a task to do single-handedly. In the same way that Michael’s life was composed from a little bit of all of us, we are all gathered here today to put the pieces back together and remember Michael as the son, the brother and the friend.

I think I speak on behalf of all his Downside friends when I say that we fit somewhere in the middle of this. The friendships made in Downside remind more of family ties than any other I have experienced. On that first day, nearly a decade ago, we all opened the most formative chapter of our lives to each other by letting in the new faces become family. It required courage and also a tremendous amount of trust, two of Michael’s greatest qualities in my opinion. 

He was my first friend at school, and the first name to echo back home in Paris. I remember Michael in Powell the very first day - we talked about my Jimi Hendrix poster I think, we liked the same music and that was pretty cool - but what I remember vividly was discovering the confidence and the increasing sensitiveness of my new friend. 

Regardless of your house, boy or girl, Michael would welcome anyone and anything that came his way. His infectious smile, a uniquely easy-going attitude as well as his sense of fun and mischief made him a fantastic friend. Especially in a boarding school where the latter is particularly recommended! It goes without saying that the memories I am about to evoke were of course unanimously forbidden on school premises…but Michael had an effortless talent for living on the edge.

Smoking was of course his personal favourite: up by the pavilion, Polding showers, monk’s gardens, on rooftops, in cellars and anywhere in between would do. We were all bound in boyish accomplishments like sneaking out at night to drink warm beers in cool summer nights. We would try to stay until sunrise, sleep a couple of hours, then head to mass and hope not to pass out until brunch. 

I have always known Michael to be very sure of himself and always up for a laugh without taking life too seriously. The best way I have of illustrating this is probably in the lightheartedness of his approach to any sport. An incredible pace in rugby if only he could catch the ball, and similarly in football if only he knew the rules…that didn’t stop Michael though. Together with Spink they decided to set up the infamous MALCO team that we would inflict more injuries than goals on their opposition.

Some will remember the weekends at Stott’s house, and Michael trying make sense out of a little yellow rowing boat without any success. Others will remember our post A levels trip to Malta when we all felt so free and irresponsible; and more intimately in Smythe you will remember the gentle strum of his guitar letting you know that he was done working for the night.

The list keeps going because the heads are full and the hearts broken but Michael will live on in the memories we share, and in the ones which we are now the sole keeper of. 

Mij, Adrian, Sara and Richard I want to thank you on behalf of all of us for Michael. He was our brother from Downside and also the first one to go but he will never leave our hearts. It was a privilege to have known him from beginning to end, so thank you.

See you old friend.

Wise Men Say

Alan Pemberton

Wise men talk of worlds beyond
Worlds beyond our eyes
A wondrous place of love and peace
To which the spirit flies

Wise men say we come again
To live another span
That death is just a stepping stone
A pause within the plan

Mystics say that many lives
Are needed to ensure
A perfect understanding
Of God's eternal law

Wise men say with smiling eyes
Our lives are but a dream
A brief illusion clothed in flesh
A role within a scheme

Wise men say that nothing dies
It only changes form
That life goes on despite the myth
We perish in death's storm

So when our loved ones pass away
Let hope replace our pain
Have faith and trust that God ensures
We shall all meet again.

From Siddhartha

Hermann Hesse

Govinda said: “But is what you call ‘things’ actually something real, something which has existence? Your stone, your tree, your river – are they actually real? Aren’t they just a deception, just an image and an illusion?

“This doesn’t trouble me much”, said Siddhartha.

“Let the things be illusions or not. If they are illusions, then I am also an illusion. So they are always like me. That is what makes them so loveable and worthy of veneration: they are like me. That is why I can love them.

And this will make you laugh, I’m sure. But love, it seems to me, is the most important thing in the world. It may be important to great thinkers to thoroughly understand the world, to explain it, and to despise it. But I think it is only important to love the world: not to despise it and to divide one another, but to look upon the world and all the beings in it with love and admiration and respect.”

“I understand you”, said Govinda. “But isn’t that exactly what the Great One called illusion? He preached benevolence, forbearance, sympathy, and tolerance but not love: he told us not to tie our hearts in love to earthly things because we will only be disappointed.”

“I know that”, said Siddhartha, smiling. “I know”.

“And here we find ourselves within the labyrinth of meanings, within the conflict of words. For I will not deny that my words of love are in conflict with that wisdom. And that is why I distrust words, for I know that this contradiction is just another illusion. I am in agreement with the Great One. How could he not love? He who has recognised all humanity’s vanity and transitoriness and meaninglessness, and yet he loved people so much he devoted his whole life solely to help them. Even with him, the thing is more important than the words; his deeds and his life are more important; the gesture of his hand is more important than his opinions. Not in speech or thought do I see his greatness, but in his deeds and in his life.”

The two men were silent for a long time.

Then Govinda made to leave, bowing in farewell: “I thank you, Siddhartha, for telling me something of your thoughts. Some of them are strange thoughts, and I cannot grasp them all. However, I thank you and I wish you many peaceful days.”

Memories of Michael when he was very Young

Mij Turnbull

Michael came into our lives quite unexpectedly. As my mother said to me once ‘he was a gift from God!’. He reinforced us as a family and we forged a closer union. He completed us.

Some people say that certain people come into our lives and touch us deeply and then leave because their work is done. Does this apply to Michael? We will never know.

Michael was born in Sharjah (UAE). We were living in Dubai but at the time it did not have a decent maternity hospital. I will never forget waking up a few hours after the birth and seeing a woman standing by the foot of his cot. I couldn’t move because the effects of the anaesthetic hadn’t worn off.  I couldn’t reach the bell to call anyone. I just shouted at this person who ignored me and continued to stand over him. We were later told that she was praying.

When he was 6 months old we moved to New Delhi. His first language was Hindi come to think of it and he was loved by all who met him. This fair, golden child with green eyes was revered by so many. One in particular was our Driver, Jagdish.  He and his wife had been childless for 15 years. Through dire need I got her to take care of Michael for about 2 weeks whilst I ran around trying to get a household together for us to live. She was very nervous at first and communication was difficult as she could not understand English. However with hand signals and translation by her husband she managed perfectly. The miracle was that about 2 months later she got pregnant!

Michael was now a God! The entire family came over from the state of Bihar to revere him and wonder at his power!

When baby Rahul was born, Jagdish announced that he looked like Michael. Adrian and I thought that was a bit unlikely but we nodded our heads and tried not to look at each other!

Buddhist Funeral Reading

Thich Nhat Hanh

Donations to charities that Michael supported

Many of you kindly made donations in memory of Michael to a 'Just Giving' site that was set up for the Trussell Trust. 

The Trussell Trust is a national charity which original started in a garden shed in Salisbury over 20 years ago. It sets up foodbanks around the country for individuals and families in distress that are unable to find help from social services. Its motto is ‘Stop UK Hunger’.  Michael used to support the Trussell Trust whenever his funds permitted. Find out more about the Trussell Trust by going to their website at www.TrussellTrust.org or look them up on Facebook.

We also set up a My Donate site to support the Brighton Surf Life Saving Club, which voluntarily responded on the morning of 25th March to help look for Michael, as soon as he was reported missing. If you want to read more about the amazing support so many of you have given to the BSLSC please go to the 'And Then' page.

Thank You