Thinking about you today a lot and wishing you were here

I spoke with Frank at Christmas. As members of the same wonderful family, as two men aware of the terrible, grossly unfair affliction that had imposed itself on one of us...... Frank was a straight talker... always had an irreverent, incisive sense of humour.... And I was awestruck that, in the all too short conversation that we had, he hadn’t lost it. He talked to me as if he had developed a bad rash. He would not accord it the gravity it solicited..... Such bravery. He was my cousin. And I’m proud of him. I wish now, so much, that I had seen him much more often these last few years. It makes one realise just how much those of us who remain should keep in touch, get together more often, be there and take care of each other. It takes a unique character to make me write and post this. And Frank, I realised at Christmas, was exactly that.

I think Frank would have agreed with this poem. Life Goes On. By Joyce Grenfell. ... If I should go before the rest of you Break not a flower Nor inscribe a stone Nor when I am gone Speak in a Sunday voice But be the usual selves That I have known Weep if you must Parting is hell But life goes on So …. sing as well