The Judge RANTS!
Date: 15/04/04
Diane Morris
Diane Morris died last week.
The name may mean nothing to you, dear reader. But she was a
colleague of mine for some years, and lost her long battle against
cancer a week ago.
Do you sometimes find yourself raging against the malevolence of
Fate; or blind, random chance; or even god if you're of that
persuasion? Why her, when someone like ................ is still alive
and getting paid?
I left that space for two reasons: firstly to enable you to fill
in
the blank with the name of the unworthy person of your choice; and
secondly, to avoid being uncharitable.
Di was never uncharitable. She always seemed to live by the
principles of 'do as you would be done by', and 'if you can help
someone as you pass this way, do it'.
My ham-fisted way of expressing myself might lead you to think
that
this made her a dull person. She most emphatically was not; she had
the happy knack of a natural, totally sincere cheerfulness, which was
readily transmitted to those around her. Even during her illness, she
would come in to the office and have us smiling with her tales of what
happened when, say, she went to have her wig fitted. In fact, when I
think of her, I think first of her smile.
Behind all this was a solid and genuine concern for her friends
and
colleagues. She always seemed to be there in the right way at the right
time. When my mother died a few years back, she and a few other
colleagues visited me at home. There was no need for her to do this -
they had never even met, although I think they'd have got on very well
if they had. But Diane did it anyway - it had to be that way - and she
also attended the funeral.
And that's why I feel more than moderately guilty about not
joining
the deservedly large crowd at her funeral this morning. I could
plead all sorts of reasons, none of which would be more than 25% true.
The truth is that I know that I would have found it too much. I hope Di
would have understood; she was tolerant as well.
Goodbye, Diane: we remember, now and always.
R.I.P.
