The 15th of January was always going to be a tough day. It was Swight's funeral, our fab hockey friend who died a week before Christmas from, yep, bloody bastarding cancer.
But what an amazing turn out there was for her – and these were just the people for whom there was space to come to the funeral and to the reception afterwards, many others would have liked to have joined us but there simply wasn't enough space for everyone who loved Swight.
Her coffin passed through the honour guard of many, many tens of hockey sticks held up by friends, on both sides of the road. The coffin itself had a fishy underwater world on it – recognising her love for the ocean and her career in diving travel. The ceremony couldn't have felt much 'more Swight'. We were asked to come 'bright for Swight' so there were coloured hockey tops, hoodies, sweatshirts, scarves and hats, all reflecting Swight's character and love for a bit of fun.
The service acknowledged that in reality she was Sarah Wight, but spoke about her as Swight – who on earth would 'Sarah' have been for most of us? Her dad – amazingly – managed a knock out speech as did our much loved friend Woodsie, speaking about 'the love of her life'. What a massive bloody shame those words couldn't have been at their anticipated wedding this year, instead now very sadly at Swight's funeral. So nice to hug her parents, who did magnificently in the circumstances, and her brother James, whom we had met at so many Swoodsie BBQs over the years.
We then went to a nearby golf club for drinks and a bite, and finally back to Swight's homeland, Epsom hockey club, with a bunch of orange Swight t-shirt-clad mates. Woodsie held it together like a total superstar, and we all raised a glass to Swight. Our mate, who would have loved her day with all her friends had that been possible, will be hugely missed.
'Be More Swight'
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