18th September 1920 - 24th November 2000 Len's Eulogy   Earlier in his adult life Rieth, or Len as many of his family and friends knew him, had believed with good reason that he was close to death, both in his 20s when he was very ill in POW camp, and again in his 40s, when his blood pressure seemed dangerously out of control. So although he lived to be 80 years old, I think he never took life for granted or as anything but a gift, and perhaps this shaped his almost overwhelmingly positive outlook on life. Singling out attributes, I would firstly pick gentleness, kindness, and concern for others. As his sons one of the things which we all remember is his almost infinite patience and willingness to put himself out for others. At times he was a part-time taxi driver, shuttling us to various holiday jobs in wildly different places and grossly inconvenient start and finish times. Also there would be a desire for truth, a love of learning and a love of teaching. He never tired of thinking about and learning languages. He spent most of his lifetime helping young women and men to become better linguists and also, I think, better people. He came to the Catholic faith later in his life, but he often said he had always been a Catholic at heart. His faith was real and active, and never wavered. It helped him meet his end with good grace and good humour. Although he was dreadfully humble about himself, and never a great person for acquiring possessions, he took great joy in, and was very proud of, two things. They were his home and his family. He brought our family out to this country in 1972, and I don't believe he regretted that decision for a single moment. He loved living here. In particular, he was completely in love with our house out on the beach at Whirinaki. He never tired of the view, sitting on the veranda or the living room, looking at the sea which he also loved so much. About seven years ago, when he'd had an earlier episode of heart disease, he talked of moving into Napier to be closer to things, but it was always with sadness and a complete lack of conviction. It came as no surprise when that came to nothing. He died in his house, and certainly spent his last days in the place which he loved most on earth. He always showed an uncritical joy and pride in his sons' accomplishments. Our modest successes gave him far more pleasure than perhaps they justified. And one of the great delights in his life in the past few years has been his time with his two granddaughters. He showed the same uncritical joy and pride in everything they did. The first example of this was when he assured me, after seeing the videotape of the scan of our daughter Alex before birth, that she was an intelligent child. But, seriously, he treasured every moment with Alex and Tara. One instance which showed me this very clearly was earlier this year when he was literally crying with joy when he was telling me about how he and Alex had picked lavender together that afternoon. And later he wrote a lovely poem about it. I think the best thing which ever happened to him was his marriage. He and Mo were best friends and deeply in love with each other throughout 36 years of marriage. And to that marriage he brought two things which perhaps defined him above everything else: his sense of humour and his great capacity for love. They were the things which endured after almost everything else in his life. Over the past few days many people have mentioned various aspects of his sense of humour. His atrocious puns. His very good jokes. His cartoons which apart from anything else have enlivened Napier Girls High School life for over 25 years. In the last six months, when his heart condition ­ which eventually killed him ­ progressively reduced his mobility, he invented an imaginary mistress called Flossie as the reason for the increasing time which everyday tasks and activities took. At least I think she was imaginary, for I don't see anyone matching her description here today, and that description was quite unusual. Perhaps this is neither the time nor the place for details of his Flossie jokes, but they were very funny, especially as they were told in his characteristically deadpan and mildly self-deprecating way. Even in his last days, when he was in great pain and weakness, and also drowsy from heavy doses of morphine to help ease his pain, he was still making jokes about his condition. His love was evident in and drove many of the other things I've mentioned. It stayed with him right to the end of his life. When I last saw him he couldn't say much ­ he was in pain and his mouth and throat were very dry from the morphine, but the extent of his love was clear from what little he said and the way his face lit up and came alive when he recognised me. Although he was barely able to move at all, he held his arms wide open to hug me. He was a most loving and lovely man I've ever known. back to family page