There was only one Dick

Time and tide

As one grows old with the passage of that thing that never stops called time, the memories come and go of things that have gone before.

For me, there is much else to ponder for my mental capacity to remember and recollect, the recall of dates and events from the auspicious to the inauspicious that I hopes that this does not become as ritualistic as it could be defining and debilitating of the security of reason and the reasonable.

Yet, one must be reminded of those who have crossed our paths and made significant contributions of friendship, of love, of joy, of comfort and of much else that gives life true and enduring meaning.

Memories of one

It is in this vein that I remember a very dear friend, who six years ago died quite peacefully at home having lost a battle against cancer.

I was called the day after he died and I was fortunate to see him lain in his bed, in his own home, dressed very smartly as if preparing for a very formal outing, almost lifelike but not breathing, his journey, his pains, his labours and his concerns meaning no more to him, for he had gone to another place.

A goodbye forever

As I stood by his bed, I wept silently and whispered a goodbye to him, I had to return again to see him before we buried him five days later on what would have been his 58^th birthday.

Nothing could have prepared all of us his friends from far and near for his passing, but we all gathered on that cold Monday morning to celebrate his amazing, giving, loving, considerate and gregarious life before he was committed to earth.

For each and every one of us whose life was touched by the grace and favour of Dick van Galen Last, we remember him fondly, he is sorely missed, but never forgotten.

Adieu Dick, rust goed.