Philip Gould - When I Die

Dear Philip,

I hope, as do so many others, that somehow you find within you the strength to carry on. The courage you have shown since the day you were told you had cancer has been inspiring. If anyone can keep on defying the medical odds, you can.

But if this does defeat you this time, I don’t want you to go without me saying what a wonderful person you are, and what an extraordinary friend you have been. Of all my friends, you are the one who touches virtually every point of my life – past, present, politics, work, leisure, sport and holidays, education, books, charity, and, more important than anything, family and friendship. I have been blessed to know you. So has Fiona. So have Rory, Calum and Grace. For so many of the happiest moments of our lives, you have been there, indeed often the cause of the happiness.

You’ve always been there in tough times too. You remember the Alex Ferguson quote: ‘The true friend is the one who walks through the door when others are putting on their coats to leave.’ You have displayed that brand of friendship so often, so consistently, and with such a force as to keep me going at the lowest of moments.

When I got your moving, lovely message on Tuesday, and was convinced you wouldn’t see out the night, I felt like a limb had been wrenched from me. You know my crazy theory that we only know if we have lived a good life as we approach its end – perhaps we only know the real value of a friend when we lose him. The loss for Gail, Georgia and Grace will be enormous. But so many others were touched by you and will share that loss.

My favourite quote of our time in government came not from me or you, or any of the rest of the New Labour team. It came from the Queen in the aftermath of the September 11 attacks ten years ago. ‘Grief is the price we pay for love.’ You are much loved. There will be much grief. But it is a price worth paying for the joy of having known you, worked with you, laughed with you, cried with you, latterly watched you face death squarely in the eye with the same humility, conviction and concern for others which you have shown in life.

I will always remember you not for your guts in facing cancer, brave though you have been, but for the extraordinary life force you have been in the healthy times. Your enthusiasm, your passion for politics, and belief in its power to do good, your love of Labour, your dedication to the cause and the team – they all have their place in the history that we all wrote together. I loved the defiant tone of your revised Unfinished Revolution , your clear message that whatever the critics say, we changed politics and Britain for the better. So often, so many of our people weaken. You never did. You never have. You never would. That is the product of real values, strength of character, and above all integrity of spirit.

In a world divided between givers and takers, you are the ultimate giver. In a world where prima donnas often prosper, you are the ultimate team player. Perhaps alone among the key New Labour people, you have managed to do an amazing job without making enemies. That too is a product of your extraordinary personality, your love of people and your determination always to try to build and heal. It has been humbling to see you, even in these last days and weeks, trying to heal some of the wounds that came with the pressures of power. We can all take lessons from that, and we all should.

Of course I will miss the daily chats, the banter, the unsettled argument about whether QPR are a bigger club than Burnley. More, I’ll miss your always being on hand to help me think something through, large or small. But what I will miss more than anything is the life force, the big voice. You have made our lives so much better. You are part of our lives and you will be for ever. Because in my life, Philip, you are a bigger force than the death that is about to take you.

There are many people to thank in the creation of this book. First, Keith Blackmore, who agreed to become the book’s editor, taking time off from The Times where he is deputy editor and behaving with such compassion and commitment to the project. Ed Victor, friend and agent extraordinaire, for relentlessly championing Philip and his writing and for being such a great neighbour and friend to the whole family. It was while sitting with Ed on our weekly ritual of Sunday afternoon coffee that Philip asked for a ‘deadline’ for the book, missing the irony of his request.

Alastair Campbell was as close to Philip as it was possible to be, both as a friend and a political ally, an unfaltering presence, coaxing him on with humour and support. All the Campbells–Millars have been stalwart through these miserable years, an extension of our family, providing respite for us all in France and Scotland. Tony Blair became such a crucial and strong pillar of both spiritual and intellectual support for Philip. He texted us from all over the world and his concern was a great comfort to Philip.

Matthew Freud entered Philip’s life in 2000, wearing leather trousers as he recalls, but despite that they became close friends and intellectual sparring partners. Both showed a deep sense of personal integrity and constantly sought out purpose both in their own lives and in those of their clients. All at Freud’s have been complete rocks, none more so than Nicola Howson. Matthew and his wife, Liz Murdoch, have become a central pillar in all of our lives and their generosity has no limits. Pete Jones, whom Philip met at university, was a wonderful and constant friend to him all his life.

Thanks through this period also go to Stephen Badger for his spiritual wisdom and support, to David Kamenetzky and Anna-Lena Wetzel, to Noreena Hertz, a founding member of the ‘Ask Philip Club’, to John Thornton, and to Antonio Lucio who immortalised Philip in a leadership award and continues to be a great friend and mentor. And a very special thank you to all who have contributed to Philip’s charities. You know who you are and you will help make Philip’s legacy a reality.

Thanks also to Philip’s Labour family. The day after he died the house was filled with his political friends: Peter Mandelson, Tessa Jowell, Margaret McDonagh – the New Labour version of the Jewish shiva . Our house has been full of letters from party staff, from the politicians Philip spent countless afternoons discussing politics and purpose with: James Purnell, David Miliband, Ed Miliband, Douglas Alexander, Gordon Brown and his friends from No. 10 days, Sally Morgan, Anji Hunter, Peter Hyman and many more he never told me about. I know that the Labour Party was always a home from home for Philip and that the friendships he made there sustained him right through to the end. In his book The Unfinished Revolution , Philip thanked so many more who had helped and sustained him.

I would like to thank The Times newspaper and James Harding for the beautiful way they presented Philip’s words and the support they gave to Philip and this project.

Thanks to the innumerable medical staff who supported Philip through his cancer journey, for the care, kindness and dedication with which they took us through the hardest times. Particular thanks are due to the brilliant Professor Mike Griffin, who operated on Philip when few else could and gave us an extra year, and Claire Sedgwick, who was always at the end of a phone for all the crises. Thanks too to Professor David Cunningham, who never gave up on Philip and lifted us through some of our darkest days, and all at the Marsden, especially Dr Kaz Mochlinski, Dr Jervoise Andreyev and Dr Craig Carr, and all at the Intensive Care Unit.

Thank you too to all those who wrote so beautifully on Philip’s death. Philip had too many close friends to begin to mention here, but we appreciate deeply all the support and love we have had over the last few years.