May 22

May 22 Who I'll be remembering on Celebration Day

I’ve written in the past about why I believe we need to be better at addressing the subject of death - something that plainly happens to us all and yet something we typically do a very adept job of not thinking or talking about. (THIS was the blog I wrote after attending a very unusual death-related event). Remembering people who have died who were dear to us is, happily, something we’re far better at. And now there’s a special day dedicated to all those we’ve loved and lost. .

Launched in 2022, Celebration Day is inspired by traditions like the Day of the Dead in Mexico, as a way of providing an annual focus for us as individuals and as a wider society to “keep alive the legacy of those who have paved the way before us.” Just as Mothers and Fathers Day prompt us to celebrate and thank our parents, Celebration Day (which always happens on the last bank holiday Monday in May) is a chance to remember and honour the spirit of the special people in our lives who are no longer with us.

Whilst I don’t need a special day to remind me of some of the people I have sadly lost over the years - their absence is something I feel, if not always daily then certainly on a very regular basis - for others, who I may not miss so frequently, but who have nonetheless meant a great deal to me, Celebration Day is a welcome prompt to be reminded of the time we had together and the memories I have of them.

My dear dad certainly falls into the former category. Although he died over 20 years ago, my three siblings and I have had a tradition of sharing a memory of him on the anniversary of his death every year since then. It’s an affectionate, and frequently irreverent, way of keeping the memory of him alive. His passion for golf and motorbikes. His skill as a carpenter and a pilot (he trained as a aeronautical engineer and was in the RAF as a young man). His sometimes stern disposition and volatile temper. His fierce pride in all of us. His insistence on respect and discipline, even in the face of a gaggle of unruly opinionated children.

The other person I think of at least daily, if not more, is my late husband. We met at an international sporting competition when I was 17 and he was 21 - he was fencing for Britain, I was swimming. This is the first (very grainy) pic of us together, taken at some event or other with us in our, I remember distinctly polyester, team uniforms.

The first picture of me with my future husband

We were together for over 30 years, and remained steadfast friends even after we separated. He took me on as a sometimes moody, often over-excitable teenager and was pivotal to the woman I became and the mother I learned to be. Wise, patient, hardworking and kind he could also be fabulously silly and funny. He was a wonderful father and would have been an even more wonderful grandfather. I miss sharing being a grandparent with him so much and am more touched and thrilled than I can say that our girls talk to their girls about him often.

I never knew my paternal grandfather, but was lucky enough to have my three other grandparents alive all through my childhood. My mother’s mother was a tiny, formidable woman. The organisational and driving force behind my grandfather’s prominent and successful career (literally as well as figuratively - he never learned to drive) she was a ground-breaker in so many ways, not least as one of the first women magistrates in the country.

The four of us would spend every summer holiday in our grandparents holiday home on the Kent coast, with grandma in charge (grandpa would occasionally arrive from London for a few days here and there) ferrying us around on outings in the back of her ancient, moss green Mini Minor with indicators which sprang out from each side of the car, much to our delight.

If we’re lucky during our time in education there’s a special teacher whose skill and dedication have a lasting impact on us throughout our lives. I was unbelievably fortunate to have three of them during my time in senior school, each one responsible for laying the foundations for the pillars of my career and passions. Foremost in the trio was my utterly fantastic English teacher , Miss Gough, whose deep-seated appreciation and knowledge of literature imbued me with a corresponding love of both which inexorably led to my subsequent career as a journalist. But it’s not her I’ll be remembering on Celebration Day on account of her still being very much alive.

The two other educators to whom I owe so much are, sadly, both dead though. My fabulously inspiring art teacher, Miss Thornton, who encouraged and developed the creative skills I’ve continued to expand on throughout my life. Not only didn’t blanch when I said I wanted to do a stage design A-Level, something which had never been attempted at my school, but enthusiastically embraced learning and supporting me through the course and exam requirements. Her delight when I not only passed, but was also offered a place to study stage management at drama school, was something I remember to this day.

The other teacher who nurtured and supported a passion which has remained to this day (and unwittingly played a part in me meeting my future husband) was my sports teacher, Miss Dinn. I was enthusiastic and accomplished at several sports all through school (netball and lacrosse in the autumn and winter terms, tennis and athletics in the summer), but it was swimming at which I excelled, and when I was selected to compete for Britain and needed to train every day during lunch break, she unhesitatingly offered to eat her own lunch sitting at the side of the pool (I wasn’t allowed to swim without someone else there) whilst I ploughed up and down the lengths. A skilled sportswoman herself, what I remember most about her is her wonderful smile and unfailing enthusiasm and warmth.

I’d love to know who you’ll be remembering on Celebration Day and why.