Dear Uncle David
Thank you for being you. Unashamedly. For always making us smile and roar with giggles, no matter what the occasion. What a gift to light up a whole room with laughter. I’ve always admired your mastery of that skill.
Deacon of the Hammermen. I remember asking “Is that a real thing?” more than once. Your surreal tales seemed surely like you’d made them up or at least generously embroidered them. But just like Bob Mortimer on ‘Would I Lie To You’ it was ALWAYS (unbelievably and hilariously) true!
I can’t believe I won’t chat to you again. I’m not going to learn more obscure facts about steam trains. I won’t mummify you in toilet roll at my birthday party. And I’ll never sit on your foot clinging onto your calf with my sister on your other leg, both squealing with excitement as you somehow manage to slowly walk across our grandparents lounge. Maybe I never will believe it as you were always so very alive. I will always miss your energy and mischievous stories. Family gatherings will never be quite the same again.
I hope you are resting in peace without pain now.
Your eldest niece
Katie xxx
PS - I wrote this in my notebook sat on a bench on the beach at Bardsea the week following your death. It was a bright and sunny but bitterly cold day when I first sat down and almost immediately it began snowing heavily. For the first time since I’d heard the news you had gone I had peaceful surroundings (the beach was totally people-less aside from myself) and could finally be alone with my thoughts. The notebook then vanished at home before I’d had chance to type it up and I’m not sure quite why but it felt important that I find it and contribute my original thoughts rather than attempting to plagiarise what I might have written. I remember your thoughts on plagiarism! Anyway, better late than never, though I understand if you grade me down.
Katie Milburn
11th December 2024