Life is Fragile

Time is flying passed and there is never enough of it. This post is about death, but hopefully not in a morbid or morose way. Perhaps more about the joy of living and memories of those who we’ve lost or are going to lose soon. Hopefully it will remain light-hearted and be celebratory but it’s been a tough month so bare with me…

This last month has been tough and the last week much tougher than most – chuck in the latest terror attack on London and the emotional One Love Manchester concert and everything that has been happening hit me at once in a dramatic, teary-eyed explosion of emotions.

My mate’s dad finally lost his battle to leukemia. He died surrounded by family and friends in hospital. We was Jimmy Copley, internationally renowned drummer who played with Paul Rodgers, Tears For Fears, Tony Iommi and Jeff Beck among others. He was a legend, an insanely talented drummer and someone I’m proud to call a friend. I grew up and went to school with his son Jack and we remain friends, although perhaps not as close as we used to be. Growing up with Jack we always knew that his dad was cool and a musician. But he had no airs and graces. He was the most down-to-earth person you could ever hope to meet.

JimmyWhat struck me most during his fight will the illness was his incredible positivity and his love of life. I would often bump into him walking around Bathford or on the bus and he always stopped and chatted and took a genuine interest in my life and what I was doing. His fame didn’t change him. To me he was just an ordinary guy who I felt proud to know and slightly in awe of.  He remained positive until the very end, always with a smile on his face. In fact he spent his last few months recording new material which has just been mixed down and will be released to fundraise for the amazing teams hospital departments that looked after him during his illness. The album features all manner of incredible musicians who came together to help Jimmy finish his final tracks.

For more information about the album “Live on Through the Music” and to donate to the cause visit the website:

http://www.liveonthroughmusic.com/

 

DeanoThe second person who left us suddenly was my friend Deano, who was only 40 years old and was found dead at work. His funeral was Friday. This hasn’t quite sunken in still and the emotion is incredibly raw. He was an amazing guy, incredibly funny and the life and soul of the party. He played rugby for Avonvale RFC, taught rugby to the juniors and also marshaled at Roller Mania at the pavilion in Bath. His sudden death has left the whole community in Bathford in shock. His friends and team mates from Avonvale all had special rugby tops made and wore them to his funeral. It was an amazing and emotional sight seeing them line the pathway up to the church. Deano worked on diggers and he absolutely loved them – the bigger the better. His coffin was paraded through Bathford and down to the church in the front bucket of a digger.

Deano 2When he arrived at the church he was walked through the two lines of his rugby team mates as they formed a guard of honour and clapped as he was carried between them. The service was beautiful with stunning tributes from his friends and family and there were well over 300 people in attendance to say their final goodbyes. I have many happy memories of Deano and we used to go our drinking as a group and had some hilariously funny nights out. One night he got so drunk he was found hanging on to a lamp post for dear life. I’ll always remember him, cider in hand, on the middle of the dance floor leg extended playing it like an electric guitar and singing along with Queen. AC/DC or Guns and Roses. One of his favourite songs was Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird which summed him up perfectly. It’s going to take a long time to register that he’s gone. Every time I pass his house I expect to see him standing in the doorway, fag in hand waving out. And then every time I remember that I won’t ever see that again.

 

MickyThe third person to go recently was an old friend, Micky the chef. One of my first jobs when I was 15 or 16 was as Kitchen Porter (posh name for washing up) at the Crown in Bathford. Micky was chef and took me under his wing. The kitchen was a lovely and often hilarious place to work especially when there were difficult customers. Micky would come flying into the kitchen in the campest rage you could ever imagine flapping his tea towel about. He affectionately called everyone “Bitch” or “Hun”. At the time the pub was a proper local where we had the “Cheers” corner where all the regulars sat. Many hours were spent listening to Micky’s stories of working far and wide, serving royalty or his time spent in Rhyl. We often went off on trips to the theatre and we would go off to visit some of his favourite places in Bristol. And sometimes a crowd of us who worked there and regulars would pile back to Micky’s and sit with him and Chris listening to his ever fascinating stories and tales. He was also an incredibly talented artist and painter. He didn’t have an easy early life but he achieved so much on his own terms. And that’s how it was with Micky he did it all his way. He had a particular love of the music of Edith Piaf (he used to do an hilarious full vibrato impression) and Mama Cass. No matter how much time passed without seeing him he would always wave as I passed him on the bus and would always chat to mum whenever she saw him. He was one of a kind and will be missed by everyone who knew him.

 

And finally we get on to my dad. I’ve mentioned in previous posts about his illness but to give you a bit of background. Six years ago he was rushed into hospital. He could barely breathe. In fact he had a heart attack on the way to the hospital and had to be revived. He was put in an induced coma for ten days and we were told that he may not survive it. This happened just after Christmas – I believe it may have even been Boxing Day. Whilst he was in a coma my nan also passed away. It was not great time by any stretch of the imagination. Thanks to the amazing staff at the Royal United Hospital Bath’s intensive care unit he pulled through and we were told he had about a year left to live. He was diagnosed with COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease) or Chronic Lung Disease. Six years later, a couple more heart attacks and fighting off skin cancer and he’s still going. Until this Wednesday when things took a turn for the worse. He was having real difficulty breathing so we called out the district nurses who came in and spent most of the night with us trying to stabilize him. We were told he’d be lucky to last out the night. So we prepared ourselves for the worse. At the time of writing this he’s still very much alive but we’ve been told he could go at any moment. He’s currently bed-bound and being fed drugs intravenously through a machine. He has up and down days. Today was a bit more of a down day. He was confused and slightly not with it. Making comments about making sure the cat didn’t steal his tablets and then this evening my mum found him very seriously trying to unplug his bed – which I’m afraid to say did make me laugh – it’s a normal double bed and not plugged in at all – I guess it’s gallows humour . Possibly a water infection – possibly some kind of hallucination bought on by the morphine and other cocktail of drugs that are currently keeping him going. The whole experience is incredibly emotionally draining. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched someone slipping away slowly in front of your eyes but that’s exactly what is happening. He’s currently disappearing piece by piece and we’re pretty much sitting here waiting for him to die. Wondering if the next breath he will take will be his final one. We don’t know when it will be but we just know that it could be soon.

Life is a funny old thing sometimes isn’t it!

But what do I take from all of this? It would be very easy to just sit and cry right now and just become a sobbing, sniffly, emotional wreck. And I have sat and I have cried and for a brief but all to fleeting moment you get some sense of empty release. But what I have chosen to take from all of this is the overwhelming support and kindness that’s around me and actually around the world in general.

My favourite quote to pull out at times like this is by Fred Rogers:

“My mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers — so many caring people in this world.”

There is always shit going on. In life. In the world. But there are always – 100% without fail, people there offering to help. People coming together. People uniting. It would be easy to turn to fear or anger or even hate. But love always wins. Always.

For all of those who have been lost above the overwhelming thing has been the unity it has created. The sense of togetherness. People uniting in grief and going out of their way to help and support each other. Love always wins.

To the amazing teams of paramedics, doctors, nurses, consultants all fighting day in and out to save lives. To our amazing NHS. The amazing people who have chosen to spend their lives serving and saving others. They are the real heroes. They have propped us all up so many times and are always there without fail. The come together when you need them most. They don’t judge. They perform miracles. They show compassion and give hope. Love always wins.

To the people of the world who keep on offering help to each other no matter what life throws at them. Even after disgusting and cowardly terror attacks. Their spirit cannot be broken. They offer up their homes, open their hearts wide and let people enter in. Helping complete strangers. I guess a stranger really is a friend you haven’t met yet. They continue to support each other. They are there for each other. Love always wins.

Shedding tears tonight watching the one love Manchester concert. Seeing people sharing their grief. Coming together and proclaiming loudly that hate and terror will never win and never stop us living our lives and enjoying ourselves. Hate has no place here. Love always wins.

I choose to remain positive. I choose to continue fighting for what I believe in. I choose to stand by the community that has always been there and always stood by me. I choose love over hate. Peace over war. Calm over fear.

Love, ALWAYS, wins!

xXx

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4 thoughts on “Life is Fragile

  1. Amazing post, Luke. I’m so very sorry that you are going through so much, but your bravery and positivity in the face of so much sadness is nothing but remarkable. I’ve said it before – I feel very proud to be able to call you my friend! xxx

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