Not a day I was anticipating with any relish, for obvious reasons. The first Fathers Day without Blazingdad.
Astonishingly, given we come from very different parts of the country, the ashes of Mrs Blazing’s Dad, and Blazingdad and Mum, are but a few miles apart, and so a visit to both places would make for a pleasant Sunday under different circumstances.
Just a few miles north of where we are is the village that was host to the wartime airfield where Blazingdad and Mum enjoyed a whirlwind courtship and marriage in the winter of 1944/5. The church there has a corner that will always be a testament to the work done by the RAF in those days, and the lifelong friendships that were formed in such adversity. Slowly, those who saw service there have returned one last time to congregate together again.
A memorial stained glass window, a tribute in slate, and individual stones put names to those who served here. In this most peaceful of places they are finally at rest, and in the company of old friends again.
A dwindling number still come together here each September to pay tribute to their old friends who can no longer join them for an evening of celebration followed by a Sunday morning service of remembrance. It is an atmospheric place in quite magnificent Cotswold countryside.
Blazingmum has waited there 24 years for Dad to join her, so you can imagine they have had some catching up to do. I had to break the news to him that the last of his three brothers has also passed away. Then I smiled through a tear or two. If he heard me, he will already know that!
Then it was time to go. “I’ll be back Mum, Dad, but not nearly soon enough I expect.” It was tissue time. If you are an investor buy Kleenex shares. I’ve become a bulk buyer.