Dear Bobby
We tell ourselves an older person dying isn’t as sad as a younger person going needlessly, and to an extent it is true. A person is still a personality and Bobby was a fiery, sharp, funny Bobby until a few weeks before he went. Those of us still alive miss that person, whatever age. You’re only getting one perspective on Bobby- my perspective. I can’t cover his whole life and if I did you’d be going home just in time for afternoon tea, next monday. Bobby was my great uncle who died aged ninety five. My Dad’s uncle and a lifelong but complex grump who we loved. Who wants to just be praised in their death? Perhaps Bobby, who as first batter was proudly 85 not out at Kingswood. He was 95 and out in life. A great innings, to use an apt cliche. Jane, Bobby’s daughter, who he loved unconditionally, incredibly sadly died of cancer recently and I personally think Bob wanted to hang on for her. He may not have always been the best Dad, but which of us is always the best us? These things are a...