We were enjoying being back and Lynne in particular was enjoying the temperature difference from Britain when I got the sad news that my good friend from my youth service days Phil Jackson had lost his fight with cancer and had died on the very day we flew back. Phil had been my first regular sea-kayaking partner and we had shared many adventures together. Lynne too had been a good friend and Phil had taken her down many potholes in the Yorkshire dales. To say we were both devastated would have been an understatement. Phil had been a year and a bit younger than I. He leaves a wife Sandra and two children Robert and Evie. We had gone off at tangents Phil pursuing a teaching career in London and later York, however we had kept in touch and Phil became a bit of a fan of this blog , we had hoped to visit Phil when we returned from the Caribbean but it proved impossible due to the intense chemo regime that Phil was undergoing. We will both miss him . A gentle and kind man with enormous courage.
We immediately booked flights back to the UK to attend the funeral and to pay our last respects.
Phil Jackson
I cant do it, there are so many things to say that they must remain unsaid, I think it may be useful to finish with a link to Phil himself, this is a link to an interview that Phil did very shortly before he died.I had thought to try and write something that would sum up all I felt about my memories and feelings about Phil. I had thought to try and describe maybe the wonderful hours on the sea we shared, the lightening storm, the cold and wind, fires on a lonely beach, night paddles,tide races and surf landings. I cant, there are so many. Its a particularly rich weave in the tapestry of our memories. What memory's there are, not all are of heroic deeds carried off against impossible odds, though there are a few like that. No most of all I remember the small things, the individual threads I suppose. Small but vital to the whole.There was the memory of the day we dragged two loaded Nordcapps over the mud of the Dee estuary and Phils wonderful mum picking us up covered in glutinous smelly ooze and took us to a chippy sat in the back of his dad's car. I remember walking back over the Yorkshire moors in the dark after spending long hours underground in Lancaster hole. My wife to be fell in a peat sink up to her armpits and as we got changed her underwear froze to the road, unbelievably we are still married. I think we both chose well in that regard. Then our discovery of the moon pool at the bottom of Ramsey, that fantastic cave, Phil always loved holes in the ground. I think that is where I would like to scatter a few of his ashes, it is so beautiful there. The green light reflected up from below, yes, that`s where I could see him again. He would be in good company there with the seals and the birds and other free spirits of the world. One day I will join him there, but not just yet...............
meanwhile here is a link to an interview that Phil had with a journalist friend. The interview took place a few weeks before Phil died.
It says far more about him than I ever could.
No comments:
Post a Comment