Friday 30th November 2007
I received a phone call at 9.30 this morning at work from my parents.
My Uncle Glyn died last night in his sleep. He was only 59 years old.
It shocked me, to be quite honest. It was completely unexpected. I am very upset.
Tom Stoppard in Rozencrantz and Guildenstern are dead (1999:64) voices through Rozencrantz:
'We have no control. None at all...Whatever came of the first moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one, a moment, in childhood when it first occurred to you that you don't go on for ever. It must have been shattering - stamped into one's memory. And yet I can't remember it. It never occurred to me at all.'
'For all the compasses in the world, there's only one direction, and time is its only measure.'
Time is indeed its only measure, and it was too short for my Uncle Glyn.
So I am going to raise a glass to him tonight. I didn't see him very often, but I miss him.