By the standards of strangers, David Tunnicliffe died without having achieved much, yet he left his mark on everybody he met. He passed away a few days ago at the age of 30, leaving two sisters and parents Jean and Stuart, both of whom are fighting advanced cancers. The misery of burying their son can only be slightly lessened by the knowledge that they won't have to worry about him once they're gone.
I haven't seen David for ten years, and his parents for a couple, but I thought of them frequently, as old family friends who were unfailingly merry and kind despite David's severe health problems (getting to 30 was a massive achievement). Like the rest of his family, he had a huge laugh which was always on the verge of erupting, wherever he was.
He played the hand he was given and he laughed at those cards. That's not a bad way to live, and die.
No comments:
Post a Comment