Bob, Death

Post Bob’s funeral to Louise

Darling one – LOVED your words. I read them now, end of day, the house empty but for my incongruous flat mate, in between lives of lover and ex’s,who sits and checks facebook, tells me it’s cold outside, while I busy around, washing up, hovering, walking dog.

Giggled like a school girl, with the ego on wheels, your mother demanding LANGER to a sat nav, which responds, there is no LANGER. How existential is that?

So glad Alfie moved in to be with you, and was there when you walked down that lane to your bubble. Your son, gatekeeper, friend and future. And that Sarah stayed in a comfortable bed in Langer. I’ve spoken to her today, she so appreciative of your kindness to her.

You were truely a friend on that day. I, so fiercely independent, linked my arm through yours, and held your kind hand, as you held mine. I shall never forget that.

And I will return that kindness, when your bubble day arrives.

I want to write to you of the evening, which was magic. Much more Bob, far less choreographed, and no Curriculum Vitae story of a life. But what he did, the walk he walked. We saw through his eyes. His young eyes.  I missed you of course, but also relieved that you were not there, for we showed 4 films of Bob’s in Ph’s barn, including the one of Langer, which as you know is as much about Imo and Langer as Toby.  At the end of the film, I stood up and invited the modest gathering to raise a glass to Toby’s strong life. Which we did with pleasure.

Tomorrow I will write, for tonight, time for the dog to be walked into the night sky.

Oh please continue, and don’t forget the practical too For example any news on the PM?



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