Below is a poem my father wrote regarding the death of my great uncle, Les Burton, in 2001:-
Her mother’s younger brother.
A cocky, ebullient little man,
Tough as nails and rumbustious in manner,
Rollicking humour, meant never dull.
Fiercely loyal to his wife and family,
Ready friendliness to others.
Worked hard and served as a young sailor.
Invested wisely, from redundancy pay.
Luck ran out at 53,
When diagnosis showed Parkinson’s disease
Had taken its malign hold.
Gradual decline, futile struggles, gestures of
Defiance and looking for answers,
Succumbed to his fate at 78.
As his epitaph, his son and daughter,
“He did it his way.”
James B. Mollekin
8 March 2001