In Memorandum
In Memorandum of Alan Kerr
This is important, and if you have the time please read it… it would mean a lot to me…
One thing that I learned in the past few months is that terrible things can happen to the best people. This is exactly the case of my uncle, Alan Kerr, who passed away last month due to cancer.
He was a wonderful man, the oldest of 4, who grew up in a tenement in Marchmont, Edinburgh. With hard work and skill, he grew to become a wonderful father of two adopted children - William and Peter - living in Shipley and working in a very successful job at NHS England.
Although I did not see him often, he did have quite an influence in my life. We enjoyed similar hobbies - with both of us interested in photography. Actually, one of the very last time’s I saw him was at his child’s, William’s, wedding - each of us happily snapping away during this happy occasion. When my mother recalls memories of him, she often recites how similar we both were to each other. The little quirks we have, and how we could discuss things without difficulty with each other. We were oddly similar.
But what shocked me was his ability to hang on. Until the end, he was as hopeful as possible. He wanted to live life to the full, but had little chance to do so. He wanted to walk his dog, although he was completely out of energy. He wanted to go and take photos, although he didn’t posses the strength. He even bought himself a new camera weeks before his eventual demise - only never to actually have the time to use it.
I never saw him in his final days. Not because I didn’t want to, but due to the fact that he didn’t want to let me see him… We had always seen him as the jolly uncle, and never ill, and he didn’t want our last memories of him to be of illness - and rather he wanted me to remember him of the man that he was.
Today, at the Pentland Hills, my close family scattered his ashes - just as he wished. To be with the hills he once knew so well, but never had the chance to visit again.
Alan, I miss you.
