Engraved on the Palms of my hands

Matt at "Devil's Frying Pan" near Coverack,
 Cornwall 2003

His dad, same place, 2007.
One year after Matt's death  

I have not written a blog for the 10th September, but leave it to my husband, who has written so eloquently about our son. And in the second one  about a mother's loss.  Read the link to the article in the Economist. It is intensely moving.......   

Engraved on the palms of my hands

Here is FreeLanceNerd, (as he later called himself in his blog)
 We still have the photo of Teapot holding him which you can see in this pic, standing on the shelf in the background.  Now it sits looking at the fireplace in our dining area.

We saw his nephew Samuel,  or Sammy as I heard his mum say a few times, on Saturday, and he would give FLN a fair run for his money in the smiling stakes. Funny that as Curly Al, his dad, was not quite at the races when the smiles were on.

 September approaches - the cruelest month - to ape TS Eliot. I was struck by Matthew Maynard who had given interviews last week at a memorial cricket match for his son Tom between Surrey and Glamorgan. Tom, a promising Surrey cricketer,  died in June after trying to cross a London Tube line and being hit by a train. His father now carries tattoos on his arms with words in memory of Tom.

Memories are engraved deep within us. And there are plenty I am pleased to say about FLN. There is something remarkable about the ability to bring the past into the present however imperfect that may be sometimes. I often bring those memories to mind in our church of an evening where he would come and take part and worship. We were finishing our series in the prophet Isaiah last night and I found myself turning the pages to chapter 49 where the Sovereign Lord says.

"See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands"

There is something deeper here than a tattoo. And for all of us for whom September is the cruelest month we are comforted immeasurably by the knowledge we are never forgotten, held always in the memory of the God.

FRIDAY, 24 AUGUST 2012

A pair of spectacles

On this day when our most read newspaper self righteously publishes Prince Harry's photo in his birthday suit in the interests of the need to know press freedom and oh of course profit your blogger has decided on a more sombre piece.

Friday is the day the Economist drops on the welcome mat of the Tardis and one of its special features is the obituary page right at the end of the magazine. Here lives are remembered from all sorts of walks and backgrounds. Last week I read the story of Sir Bernard Lovell who died at 98 and forever linked to the Jodrell Bank radio telescope in Cheshire.

Today I read about Winnie Johnson the mother of Keith Bennett, the only child victim of Myra Hindley and Ian Brady whose body was never found on Saddleworth Moor, a wild lonely place not that far from Sir Bernard's telescope. Winnie died last week. Here is the article with another photo courtesy of the Sun.

http://www.economist.com/node/21560832

The last paragraph captures a haunting sadness of nearly 50 years. Although I have lost a son I can only touch the edge of the depth of the suffering and despair of this mother. I suspect Keith's remains will never be found.

4 weeks and counting down............10th August to 10th September.

 A poignant journey. 

Last Friday, 3rd August,  we drove to the Wirral to spend the day with a friend, Lois.
It was the same journey Matt and Chris were making when they were tragically killed. They were going to stay with her overnight, before boarding a plane the next morning from Liverpool to Spain. Lois was Chris's closest friend.

  They never arrived.

They had been at the England One Day International Cricket Match v Pakistan at Edgbaston in the afternoon, with a group of mates. It was the beginning of a break for Chris from his busy role as our church Pastoral Minister. With a membership of 550, and a congregation of c 600, there was a lot to watch over.

 So, they left Birmingham, waving goodbye to Matt's wife as they left his house, and died about 30 minutes later at the hands of a lorry driver who had fallen asleep at the wheel. Lois waited all night, and was frantic.
The Police called us at 2.30am to Matt's home where his wife was waiting...............nothing ever, ever, in this world prepares you for that.......................
Last Friday, we made the journey they would have taken, for the first time. Lois usually comes to see us, and Chris's sister, and family.
 Of course when we arrived it was an emotional event for all of us.
But we talked about them, and had a tour round the district. Lois took the photo when we were out for a walk.
It was a good day, and one we will repeat.
But Matt and Chris, we all said the same thing,
Once August arrives, we know September is coming.
Miss you, both.        
         

Chris Rankin and Matt Sellers.
(Insert in local press. September 2006)