“Dave leaves behind a family who adored him, and who wanted to share their own memories of him here.

Dave, my husband, was the most caring, loving husband anyone could ask for.I remember we had only been together six months when we married, and family would say it would never work. Here I am, 44 years later, telling everyone how wonderful he was. He really was my best friend and soul mate, who I miss terribly but keep going for our family, because that's what Dave would want.

In the 10 months since losing Dave, I have also lost my two Shih Tzu dogs — but knowing they are with Dave is comforting, as he adored them.

My best treasure now is the hand casting we made two weeks before he died. I keep it in a glass case with a little bottle hanging from Dave's thumb, containing cuttings from the Stadium of Light pitch that came from the Sunderland Heaven Branch.

Before Dave died, he had predicted where Sunderland would end up in the league — 7th — a testament to his prediction, it can still be heard on BBC Radio Newcastle Total Sport Radio. We all had a lovely warm feeling knowing Dave's prediction was right, and the thought that he was managing the team from the heavens made it even more believable.

Dave is missed so much, but I promised him I would carry on living for both of us, till I see you again my Dave.

Janette, David's Wife.”

“My Dad, my Hero, and forever my inspiration

From as young as I can think back to, I always remember my dad being the big, strong, jolly man around town that was loved by everyone that he was with, around or just bumped into, he would leave everyone with a smile on their faces.

From around the age of 7, my dad started taking me to the match at Roker Park… naturally I was hooked. We would meet up with his mates in a pub on Roker Avenue, often the Sappers, and after a few pints, or pops for me at that time, we would make our way down to the Stadium.I always remember on the way how many people knew my dad and their faces would light up when they spoke to him, he would always make sure he told them, this is my son Kevin.

We would get into the ground, get our pie and bovril and make our way towards the top section of the Fulwell end, around the middle. My dad was a big big man, he would sit me on the red barrier and when Sunderland scored, he would put his hands on the barrier each side of me and hold the whole crowd back, protecting me from getting knocked off and lost or trampled on.

As I grew up, I always played football, as a goalkeeper, for many teams, my school, the county, Washington Jnrs and also in my mid teens, Middlesbrough.....and my dad never missed a game. He would be shouting and screaming on the sidelines encouraging me, coaching me to just simply do my best.....and if the team was a bit flat, you would hear him shouting his saying… "Get some fire in ya belly lads".

Growing up, my dad owned betting shops and pubs, and just like him, from the age of 14 he had me out with him on a Thursday and Sunday night playing in the Pool league, he had coached me all my life to play pool, he was a fantastic pool player and would often go full seasons without being beat in his 1 on 1 matches.I would also go on to work in the betting shops with him, helping out when needed and also running the pubs with him, Washington football club, The Duke of Albany, The Wheatsheaf at Roker and the Alexandra at Grangetown, when in my 20s and 30s. He taught me so much about work ethic, never giving up, how to speak and treat people and how to always be driven to succeed in anything you do.I have some amazing memories with my dad, trips to Wembley on many occasions, weekends at the Grand National, where we won a canny bit on Tiger Roll winning that year, to just general ordinary day life where I would look at him in awe at how proud I was to have him as my dad.

Watching my Dad die and take his last breath will haunt me forever, but the gratitude that I have to have had him as my dad will always help me overcome that.

Every Sunderland matchday, the days before and after the game, is when I think of my dad the most and when I wish we could speak about the performance, tactics and how we would run the team better haha.I miss him dearly but I feel him in my heart and feel stronger knowing he is now guiding me through the rest of my life now. ♥️ 🤍

Kevin, David's Son.”

“My dad was my hero from the very beginning of my life

When I was born, I became seriously ill with bronchitis and ended up in intensive care, fighting for my life. The doctors told my mam and dad that I only had a 50/50 chance of surviving. Dad couldn't bear hearing those words and had one of the doctors up against the wall. From that moment on, I was his little girl, and I always knew I was loved beyond measure.

Growing up, I wanted for nothing. Dad lived for his family and would do absolutely anything for us. I was always a daddy's girl, although when my daughter was born she definitely stole part of my place! Saturdays were sacred in our house because Sunderland were playing. You either stayed away or stayed quiet because all you'd hear was, "Shurrup, the match is on!" Looking back now, those little moments are some of the memories I treasure the most.

One of the greatest privileges of my life was having my dad walk me down the aisle on my wedding day. He was a huge man with an even bigger personality, but underneath it all he had the softest heart. He cried all the way down the aisle, and everyone talked about how emotional he was. We shared our first dance to I Loved Her First by Heartland, a song that will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Dad was unbelievably proud when I graduated as a nurse. His face beamed with pride that day, and afterwards you couldn't meet him without him telling you, "My daughter's an intensive care nurse." It embarrassed me at times, but secretly it made me so proud to know how proud he was of me.

My older brother has always been a free spirit, following his own path through life, and I naturally became the one who felt responsible for looking after our family. It was never something I questioned, it was simply who I was. I never went a single day without seeing my dad or speaking to him. Whether it was a quick visit, a phone call, or just popping in for a cup of tea, he was part of my everyday life. Now, without him, the days feel endless. The time since I last saw his face doesn't feel like days or months, it feels like a lifetime. Losing someone you loved every single day leaves a silence that can never truly be filled.

When Dad was diagnosed with cancer, I made him a promise that I would be with him every step of the way, and I never broke that promise. As his illness progressed, he lost so much of his independence and dignity, but caring for him at home, where he wanted to be, became the greatest honour of my life. The love and trust he placed in me to nurse him through his final months is something I will carry with me forever. While he may have felt he was losing his dignity, I gained a lifetime of pride by being able to care for the man who had spent his whole life caring for me.

My dad wasn't just an incredible father, he was the best man I have ever known. He was kind, funny, fiercely loyal, and his family was his whole world. He taught me what unconditional love looked like, not through words but through everything he did.

Dad wasn't just part of my life, he was my life. Losing him has left a hole that can never be filled. I miss him every single day, and I always will. I will forever be Daddy's girl until the day we're together again.I love you, Dad. Thank you for giving me the greatest privilege of all, to be your daughter.

Gemma. David's Daughter.”

“My grandad was like a big cuddly bear.

I loved it when he came to pick me up, which was at least once a week. My favourite thing was going to Lidl together. I loved pushing the little trolley and getting everything Grandad asked me to find. He even let me pack the shopping bags, and then I always got a little treat.

We always used to sing in the car together. Grandad always got the words wrong, but he couldn't believe that I knew them all! We used to laugh so much, and those are some of my happiest memories.

Grandad also took me to Summer Park, and it's still my favourite park because it reminds me of all the happy times we had together.

Grandad was loud and always shouting, but that was just Grandad. He always made me laugh, and that's one of the things I'll always remember about him.

He was the best Grandad I could ever have wished for, and I miss him so much. I will love him forever.

Charlotte, David's Granddaughter.”

“His memories, kept by his mum

Franky was only three years old when I asked him what he remembered about his Grandad, so these are the memories I will always keep alive for him.

His Grandad was big, loud and full of fun. One of Franky's last memories is sitting with him, feeding him crisps while Grandad pretended to eat his little fingers just to make him laugh. It was such a simple moment, but one I'll treasure forever.

Before he died, Grandad bought Franky a coat. Even now, we still call it his "Grandad coat," and I hope that as he grows, he'll always know it was a gift from a Grandad who loved him very much.

The hardest part for me is knowing that Franky had only just turned two when his Grandad became poorly. They should have had so much more time together to make memories, and that's something I'll always wish had been different.

Although Franky was too young to remember everything, I will spend the rest of my life telling him stories about his amazing Grandad. He will grow up knowing just how loved he was, and what a kind, funny, devoted family man his Grandad was.

Franky, David's Grandson.”

“My son, my son, you’re all the world to me.

Dave, was always a big boy, when he was 3, he went everywhere with his brother Barry who was 9 yrs and his mates.

Only one place he wouldn't go — that was camping. I took him to school on his starting day, then he went on his own after that. He would come home from school on a dinner time but wouldn't go back. Some days he wouldn't go in at all. Me & him would go down the town, have our teas out. Where I went, Dave went.

Weekends, he would come to the club with me, but I had to put a football badge over his school badge for him to get in. He was 14 yrs.

We were very much alike. Holidays away, caravan — once got put off a caravan site for the noise, the laughter, shouting. Even when we went to the shops together, we couldn't keep quiet, we laughed & laughed.I miss Dave so so much, it's unbearable having to live life without him.

Gladys, David's Mam.”

“Our Kid

12th July 1961 is a day I'll never forget. It was strange from the moment I woke up because Dad had stayed off work, and that was a first. Mam was still in bed when Dad took me to school for the first time in my life. Even stranger, he was there again at playtime, looking over the school fence, and then came back to pick me up at dinner time. I knew something unusual was happening. When we got home, there was a tiny baby lying next to Mam in bed.

What a shock! He had jet-black hair, loads of it for a newborn, and he was a big, heavy baby too. Little did I know that one day he would grow into a giant, and that I'd spend most of my life looking after him. That baby was my brother, Dave.

As we grew up, I tried to guide him the best I could. By the time he was about sixteen, I'd made him fiercely competitive in everything he did. Whether it was sport, games or life itself, he always wanted to win. In our younger years we competed in just about everything: judo, draughts, Monopoly, Subbuteo, tennis, snooker, pool, darts and football, just to name a few. I spent a lot of time babysitting him from the age of ten, especially on Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday nights while Mam and Dad went to the club.

Our favourite game was always Subbuteo. It took nearly an hour to set everything up properly. Dave was always Leeds United in their white strip, while I was Chelsea in blue. He absolutely loved that game and would constantly ask me to play. Because it belonged to me and I kept it in mint condition, he wasn't allowed to play without me. It was one of the few games he hadn't managed to destroy. We even made a deal that whoever lost had to put the game away afterwards.

The agreement sounded good, but there was one problem. Whoever lost was nearly always Dave, and despite promising, he never once put the game away. Like so many things in life, he simply left me to do it. Then the following day he'd be asking, "Kid, can we play Subbuteo again?"Once he was old enough to come out with me, around the age of four and a half, we got up to all sorts of adventures. We played football in the streets using garden gates as goals, climbed trees, went bird nesting and caught frogs and toads from the ponds around the Seven Houses.

One day we were "frogging," as we called it. Dave was still young, so we left him with the other kids to watch over the frogs we'd caught while we went off for a while. When I came back, Dave had disappeared. Apparently he'd got fed up waiting, decided to kill all the frogs we'd caught and then legged it. I set off after him. He was only about five and a half years old, so there was never much chance of him outrunning me.

By the time I reached the Three Horse Shoes on Washington Road, there wasn't an A19 there like there is now, so I could still see him in the distance heading towards the flats. I started running harder. As he reached the bottom of Brentford Avenue, I was getting closer. By the time he got to the gates of our flats I was only about twenty yards behind him, and he was beginning to tire. I finally caught him on the stairs, where he was screaming for Mam. She came rushing out and rescued him just in time. As always, he never got into trouble with Mam. Instead, I was the bad guy for making him run so far.

Dave was an outstanding footballer. From about the age of eight or ten he was already bigger than most boys his age, but what really stood out was his ability. He was an excellent centre-half and captained both his school year and older teams. I watched him play many times at Bexhill School fields. One match sticks in my memory. Sports journalist Ken Shackleton was there because his son was playing centre-forward for the opposition and was their top goalscorer. Dave marked him that day. He never scored a single goal because Dave completely took him out of the game.

After junior football, though, things changed a little. When he moved to senior school he became much lazier. He hardly wanted to go to school and would often get Mam to write notes to get him out of PE lessons. Whenever cross-country came around, he'd often disappear and make his way home instead. One event he did enjoy was the shot put. Around the age of fourteen he represented the county several times.

After leaving school he joined the same football team as me. At that time he was on a strict diet and trained with me at five-a-side football in the Sports Arena. I remember one match against Sporting Club Victoria from Jarrow. Dave came on as a substitute in the second half. Their centre-half looked at him and laughed, saying, "I'll mark this skinny, lanky lad that's coming on." He was about to find out he'd seriously underestimated him.

One Friday night we'd all been in a pub called The Gannet, at the top of High Street. We'd all been barred, and as we made our way to catch the last bus home, one of the lads decided to pull the illuminated beacon off the top of a zebra crossing. Naturally, we started playing football with it all the way down High Street. By the time we reached the bus terminus we'd even made goals out of shop doorways. That night Dave, who was about sixteen, and his mate Duke, who was seventeen, were the only two who didn't get arrested. The rest of us were bundled into a police van and taken to Gill Bridge police station, where I spent six hours locked up. At least Dave made it home and told my parents where I was.

Over the years, Dave and Dad came to watch me play football every Sunday. Afterwards we'd all head to the pub with the rest of the players. One day I'll never forget was when Dave turned up at the school where I worked at Hylton Castle. The moment I saw him, I knew something was wrong. He told me he'd found our dad at the bottom of the stairs in his house.

Barry, David's Brother.”