In memory of Calum McGurk.
A year ago today, a good friend lost a son.
When it happened I promised Graeme I would write a piece for the Newsletter about his son Calum.
Calum, Cal to his friends, was 27 years old.
At the time I struggled over what to write, as it all seemed so inexplicable. Graeme would call me from time to time; he was finding it impossible to understand what had happened. Not being a father, I had no explanation or understanding of what he was feeling; the best I could do for a friend was to listen.
Even now in his voice you can sense the tinge of grief, an inability to understand why someone so full of life was lost to life itself.
Cal would turn up here with Graeme bold as brass, as if he was the one I had known all these years, holding court if his work mates were with him, as though a day hadn’t past seen I’d seen him last.
Graeme and I would smile, and humour him. Cal invariably picked something out for dad to buy; a new shirt or pester him over needing a new suit.
Cal and Graeme worked together, and it is testament to Cal’s personality; that in each of his old workplaces there is something to remind everyone of him.
Graeme confided to me when we were last chatting; just how strange he found this. I sensed he was immensely proud of it, I think he feared that he shouldn’t be.
Go for the pride option. It was an honour to have known Cal, and an honour to call you my friend.
My thoughts are with you, Celia and the family.