I remember giant gin and tonics. I remember sunshine and barbecues. I remember playing the organ and a mini electric piano. I remember playing shops and banks and making a mess in the sink, smiling, covered in water. The sofas in the basement, running between the gardens, a glass carafe, red wine.
I remember lingering cigar smoke, comforting and homely. I remember belly laughs and summertimes. I remember beaches, holidays, by the sea, watching the lights reflecting on the inky blackness of the water, lapping gently up the cool sands.
I remember running and hugging after an illness, me half his height, so pleased to see him. I remember writing and cards and that old, distinguished script, birthdays and christmas. I remember orange plastic sledges and chocolates from Switzerland. I remember stories, tall tales, cheating at every board game, whisky and political debates, the hottest curries and the largest measures.I remember respectability and kindness.
There are no more memories to make. Mourners gather, tissues, smiles through tears. A life well lived. A loss felt, deeply, shattering our souls. We toast to him and feel the gaping hole in our hearts.
I stare at the mist, the grey. I wipe away tears. I remember him. I remember him. I raise a glass in my mind and set out to live a life as good as his. I remember him.