RIP - Harry Laws

Earlier this week we paid our last respects to my father-in-law, Harry Laws, and buried him in his plot in South Wales. He was a good man, a gentle man and a gentleman. He was 94 and had lived through a lot but never more so than during his four and a half years continuous service abroad duing WW2. He served with Montgomery at Tobruk and El Alamein but wore the title of Desert Rat with great modesty. Rarely did he speak of his exploits and never, in my experience, without prompting by someone else or by some event. In either case, his subsequent comments were invariably fairly brief and it was quite difficult to get much detail from him.

I spoke a few words at his service by way of a eulogy and a personal tribute. It's something I've done on several occasions previously (six times if my reckoning is correct) at the funerals of friends and family. It's not something I relish doing but it is something I am always prepared to do. It's never less than a priviledge and it is a way of showing respect for the deceased. Apart from the funeral of a school friend when I was eight or so (David Combstock from Bedwas who was tragically killed in an accident at the open air swimming baths in Caerphilly), the first funeral I went to as an adult was that of my maternal grandmother, Florrie B. The service was conducted at the house in Trethomas and, at the time, I was horrified at how impersonal it was. I don't think she was mentioned once by name and the service could have been for anyone. I wish I had had the confidence to say something on her behalf at the time but I hadn't and it's something that I've always regretted. However, I did make a mental note that I would step forward in future and say a few words at a funeral if ever asked or, indeed, volunteer if it looks as if no-one else can face doing it.

So, RIP Harry Laws (and Marianne from Beckenham, Dad, Cheryl, Bob from Poole, Mrs James from Rhiwderin and Bob from Truro). All gone but not forgotten.