Sunday of my Life

On the morning of Tuesday the 5th of September, 2007, Herbert Pickersgill left this life. He was a husband, a father, grandfather and great-grandfather. And he was loved, by his entire family, and all those who knew him.

He was an irascible man. Argumentative and opinionated. You learned, as you came to know him, that there were subjects that you just did not get him started on, because he could talk the birds out of the trees. And somehow, this was part of his charm. It was one of the many, many elements that made him who he was. And prejudiced as he could be on some topics — and everyone, at one time or another, is prejudiced about something — towards his family, and those who sought to join it, he showed nothing but love, and respect, and understanding.

He was a soldier, not only in the times of war in which he fought, but throughout his life. He fought for his family. He raised his many children to respect life, to always give dignity, and never to turn from those who are in need. These principles are part of the guiding flame of my entire family, and are something that I know I intend to pass on, when it’s my time to do so.

If I ever want any kind of confirmation on all of this, all I need to do is look around at my family. Combined, my grandfather and grandmother raised fourteen of the best people I have ever known, including my own mother. If nothing else spoke of their good characters, then this would be enough. They are supportive, kind, considerate, and loving. They instill this in their children, and their children do the same. It is a legacy, one worth having, and one worth keeping. Together, that is what they created. And I cannot think of anything better I could do in his memory than to carry this on.

He will be missed.

I do not know if I am writing this as a memorial, or a tribute, or just to express something on the subject. Right now, I don’t know how I feel. Since I found out, after coming home from a very long day out, I’m not sure how I’ve felt about anything, except numb. I don’t know if this is the mood stabilisers I take doing their job, or if it’s shock, or some combination thereof. I’m hoping it’s shock. I really am. I’d hate to think that, at this time of all times, I’m unable to feel anything. The funeral is next week. We’ll see.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 5th, 2007 at 9:21 pm and is filed under Memories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.