Glyn Weldhen Banks

Glyn was born at Prestatyn nursing home and spent his early years in Trelogan, which was a Welsh speaking village in Flintshire, North Wales. Our family lived in the Manse with our grandfather the Rev. Hugh Hughes Jones who was highly respected by the local community because of his enquiring, intellectual and philosophical renderings of his weekly sermons, often questioning and relating the Bible to events of the day.

Inspired by his Grandfather, Glyn had a similar mentality.

At the age of six, Glyn fell ill and succumbed to the mid- fifties UK pandemic of Polio. He spent over a month in an isolation hospital in Caernarfon (a ninety-mile round trip for our parents). The whole family were quarantined for a month and we visited Glyn about once a week. Children were not allowed into the hospital but our parents could only talk to him through a glass panel. He was partially paralysed upon his return home in a wheelchair but recovered very quickly. He was left with a physical weakness and was unable to take on sporting activities until his early twenties. He loved Rugby.

Most of Glyn’s spare time, as he was growing up, was spent at The Rhyl Children’s Theatre Club. This was where he learnt and perfected his rich, mesmerising, performance voice, which he frequently used in his professional acting roles during his life. The Rhyl Little Theatre was his stepping stone to his love of Drama and the written word, and eventually his career as an English and Drama teacher/lecturer and actor.    

In 1964, a new purpose-built theatre was opened for the Rhyl Little Theatre and Glyn was instrumental in organising the official opening by contacting the author/playwright Emlyn Williams to attend the opening. He also arranged for Harry Seacombe (comedian and singer) to become president of the Little Theatre. Glyn also wrote a poem which he read out at the official opening.

Aged 17, Glyn was awarded the MENSA I.Q. accreditation after being tested with an I.Q. of 161. the pass level is 148.

Glyn went to Bangor University where he gained 1st class honours in Drama and English. He went on to Oxford University for his teaching qualification. After several years of teaching and joining a Theatre in Education group in Aberystwyth, plus performing in several Welsh TV productions, Glyn decided to travel and took on a TEFL course enabling him to teach English as a foreign language. He was given a choice of teaching in Portugal or Finland. He had been to Portugal on holiday and was curious about Finland. He chose Finland and ended up there for the rest of his life.

Whilst in Finland he taught extensively but also created the Fin/Brit Drama group, performing professionally in the Swedish Theatre in central Helsinki. He also formed a Fin/Welsh society which was open and welcoming to visitors from Wales and where Welsh was spoken exclusively. He also was in demand by Finish film and television for his wonderful voice which was frequently used in voice overs.

He will be greatly missed by many especially his family of partner Marianna, children Dylan, Meri, Elaine, step daughters Jennifer, Joy and grandchildren Kasper, Saoirse, Taika and Oisìn.

 

Eulogy of Glyn Welden Banks

We’re all traveling through time together, every day of our lives. All we can do is do our best to relish this incredible ride.

- Mike Scott, sung by Ellie Goulding in ‘How long will I love you’

Dear lovely Death 

That taketh all things under wing—

Never to kill—

Only to change

Into some other thing

This suffering flesh,

To make it either more or less,

But not again the same—

Dear lovely Death,

Change is thy other name.

-Langston Hughes

And when the stream that overflows has passed,

A consciousness remains upon the silent shore of memory;

Images and precious thoughts that shall not be

And cannot be destroyed.

- William Wordsworth, from The Excursion

Dear friends and family of Glyn, we are gathered here on this beautiful summer’s day to honour the memory of a man whose unexpected passing has left you with deep grief and longing. You loved him so much; it seems hard to accept or comprehend it was his time to go. It is an immense loss, it breaks your hearts to say goodbye, but say goodbye you must. He was Marianna’s loving and devoted partner, father to Meri, Elaine and Dylan, Jennifer and Joy’s stepfather. He touched many lives and will be much missed.

‘Do not go gentle into that good night...​’ - there is a light you will carry with you in your hearts, that light is his smile, his kindness, the fond memories of time spent together. We are stories each and every one of us, and now the last chapter of Glyn’s life has come to a close, the story has been written and finished, and so it shall be.

We are‘​such stuff as dreams are made of’​, we are all made of stars. That which offers a purpose to our lives is not constant pursuit of happiness or success or thrill or ecstacy. What defines us as humans and gives our lives meaning is our ability to love, to care for one another, to be there for each other, to hear, to see, to be heard, to be seen. To be understood and never give up on trying to understand, our ceaseless pursuit to be better, to do better. To live life in a curious manner, open to its myriad of possibilities, not to exist solely for ourselves. Glyn knew all this and that is also his legacy to all of you.

Glyn was born in Wales and even though he had settled down in Finland and enjoyed living here, he remained first and foremost a Welshman at heart. He was a true and loyal friend to so many people, a fun, informed, a truly selfless and gentle man; cerebral and analytical, yes, but above all warm, enthusiastic and with a capacity to inspire those around him. He built a highly succesful career as an educator, and so many of his students have such fond memories of a man who can be said to have been a natural born teacher. He was engaging, motivating and dedicated. In Wales they say ‘If you want to be a leader, be a bridge’ and I believe this is exactly what made Glyn a succesful and admired as a teacher.

Glyn’s memory will go on and it continues to live on in you who were close and dear to him. He had a good life, he lived it to the full. No matter how hard, we must face it, there are things that are beyond our control. We come face to face with such profound loss, the inevitability of it all, and we feel intimidated, perhaps rather powerless and small. Death considers not the fairest forehead, it catches up with all of us. But I would encourage all of you, above anything, to be thankful for the time you had with him. He was happy, he was loved, and his example will encourage you to carry on.

Perhaps the secret to what makes life so beautiful lies in imperfections, the constant play of shadow and light, in the knowledge that our time here is limited and brief, life is ours to cherish, to enjoy, to revel in, ours to drink the very last drop from that cup. The knowledge that, for all of us, our lives are limited, makes life even more precious, momentous and extraordinary. Recognition of our dependence on, and responsibility for, each other gives life purpose and significance. We are each influenced by the decisions, characters and attitudes of those that have gone before us, and who, therefore, in a sense live on in us.

Life and death seem like opposites to one another, when in reality they are inseparable, complimentary, eternal companions, like the sea and the river that runs into it. One cannot exist without the other. Sorrow comes in many forms, it comes in waves, roaring and then retreating back leaving only silence. There is not one correct way of grieving, it is a profoundly personal process which takes time. You must be brave and allow all those feelings to surface - fear not, the commotion will quieten down. The hurt will subside, but that does not mean you have forgotten your beloved, for how could you ever do that? Sadness is not where he now resides for he will always have a home with you. Surely Glyn would understand your tears and would want to take away the pain and see the memory of him bring a smile on your faces.

“Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.” ― P​ hilip Pullman, ​The Amber Spyglass

Glyn is not gone, for as long as you remember him, he is alive. You can still hear his voice, his laughter, you can surely even guess what he would comment on some everyday occurrences. Your memories of Glyn may feel painful right now, but given time, those memories will also heal the pain. Cherish those memories. You grieve, for grief is the price of love we pay. For surely nothing that has once existed truly ever disappears. Only the shell, the perishable, vanishes and withers away. We are all part of the great circle of life, all made of the same stardust.

“To everything there is a season And a time for every purpose on earth A time to be born and a time to die Here in this last act in sorrow, but not in fear In love and appreciation, we say our final goodbye.”

We bid you farewell, Glyn, you have embarked on a journey eternal. We release you, commit you into the eternal circle of life, we free you into the embrace of nature and the universe. Go in peace. You shall be sorely missed, you shall be remembered.