calmI can't find a graceful way to get from that paragraph to the other thing I wanted to write about, so I shan't try.
My brother's godfather, Alan Forsyth, died last week. I never really interacted with him much as an adult - he came to my wedding, and of course there were Christmas cards & birthday cards, but that's about it. So my recollection of him is mostly childhood memories - and hard to put into words (given the amount I type to go into LJ, you might be surprised to hear I have trouble with verbalising things but it's true). I have a mental image of someone larger-than-life who told entertaining stories & went to exotic places (the latter may be entirely based on a memory of looking at photos of a trip of his to China(?)). And that doesn't really convey anything about the man at all. I think the only photos of him that I have are a couple from my wedding - there's one here of him (talking to another of my parents' friends, Gill, who is my brother's godmother). He was one of a smallish group of my parents' friends who count as family in my head - on the Christmas card list, invited them to my wedding, etc - and so it feels like he's the first of my parents' generation to die of old age (he was 79). Which is an unsettling feeling.
