Finding joy during an extraordinary week of emotions - Daxa Patel
There are weeks in national life that feel strangely weighted, as though the country is holding both joy and sorrow in the same breath. This has been one of them. News of the deaths of Dermot Murnaghan, Bonnie Tyler, Sam Neill, and Ann Widdecombe landed heavily for many of us.
They were four individuals from different worlds, yet each gave their all through their craft, their discipline, and their unmistakable presence. Journalism, music, film, and public service are not small arenas. They demand stamina, conviction, and heart. These four souls offered all of that and more. Their lives were lived with purpose. They contributed. They showed up. They gave something of themselves to the world.
Their passing is a reminder that the mid‑seventies is not elderly. It is still a chapter of vitality, contribution and influence. It is still a time when people are working, creating, thinking, mentoring, shaping conversations and enriching public life. To lose four such figures in quick succession is to feel the quiet shock of time’s fragility. It is to recognise, once again, that the clock is ticking for all of us. None of us knows how many chapters remain. None of us knows how many seasons of contribution we still have ahead. We are not promised tomorrow. But we are gifted today, and the question is what we choose to do with it.
And yet, in the midst of this sadness, the country found itself celebrating. England’s victory towards the quarter finals brought a surge of collective joy that felt almost medicinal. Much of that spirit was carried by Jude Bellingham, whose composure, discipline, and excellence have become emblematic of a new generation. He plays with a seriousness of purpose that belies his age, and with a generosity of spirit that lifts those around him. In a week marked by loss, his performance reminded us that momentum still exists, that hope still exists, and that excellence is always worth striving for.
It is striking how these two currents, sorrow and joy, can coexist so naturally. Perhaps they always have. Perhaps this is simply the rhythm of life: endings and beginnings, departures and arrivals, grief, and celebration. What matters is how we respond. We can allow loss to make us smaller, or we can allow it to make us better. We can allow joy to be fleeting, or we can allow it to be instructive. The football victory was not merely a sporting moment. It was a reminder that joy is not frivolous. Joy is fuel. Joy is what keeps a country going when the news is heavy and the world feels fractured.
Against this backdrop, the country welcomes a new Prime Minister. A change in leadership cannot solve everything overnight, and no reasonable person expects it to. But tone matters. Mood matters. The national atmosphere matters. And intention matters.
Every new administration brings with it an opportunity to reset the way we speak to one another, the way we conduct ourselves, and the way we imagine the future. This moment invites us to park our old hang‑ups, our habitual cynicism, and our reflexive negativity. It invites us to meet the next chapter with a little more openness than we usually allow ourselves. Not blind optimism, but measured willingness. Not naïveté, but a readiness to believe that improvement is possible if we each play our part.
For me, the right way to honour the four souls we lost is not through grand statements or public displays. It is through conduct. They gave their all through their art, their passion, and their heart. They were good souls here to do good. The most fitting homage is to raise our own game, higher and for the greater good.
That means respecting our neighbourhoods, our communities, and our country. It means being mindful of our carbon footprint, our digital footprint, our words, our tone, and our language. It means using our gifts responsibly, whatever those gifts may be. It means contributing in our own way, even if that contribution is small, quiet, or unseen. Living in a free country is not a birthright. It is a privilege. And privileges come with obligations.
The deaths of these four individuals remind us that time is finite. The football victory reminds us that joy is still available. The emergence of a new Prime Minister reminds us that renewal is possible. Together, these moments form a gentle but firm call to personal responsibility.
The clock is ticking for all of us. That is beyond debate. The only question is what our own chapter will say when it closes. The measure of a life is rarely found in headlines or applause. More often, it is found in the standards we refused to lower, the people we quietly lifted, and the small acts of responsibility repeated day after day. If this extraordinary week has reminded us of anything, it is that history is not written only by politicians, footballers or public figures. It is written, every single day, by the choices the rest of us make.
Daxa Manhar Patel is a leadership coach, author and solicitor.