A picture from four years ago, which I was reminded of on my walk round to Goat Island today.
It shows a split sky, with cloud moving into blue sky. It marked a transition, when a close friend was in the last hours of life. I had to hurry back from Goat Island to be with Barbara - someone I had known for 16 years, and who had shared those years with me.
During my time in Stornoway, my father had come up to see me four times, in 2008, '10, '12 and '14. He passed away two years ago. The last time I saw him in this life will remain with me. He was very frail and unwell in a hospital bed, but he was genuinely pleased to see me after an absence of three years - partly due to Covid restrictions on travel. And when we shook hands when I left, he held on a little longer.
I last saw my mother 20 years ago last July at the railwaystation in Darlington. I was on a train, which was departing. She was a smiling person, but there was no smile the last time I saw her face disappearing from the train window. My mother passed away in 2008.
Those who have passed on are not really dead, if they are remembered by those who knew them, who loved them.
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