Some time while we were away, the inscription that marks our friend Edgar’s grave was added to his wife’s headstone. It is, I suppose, fitting that such an unassuming man should be remembered so baldly, and I know that this is probably how he wanted things done. But this is what I would say, had I a very large stone and an army of stonemasons to do my bidding:Edgar. Erudite, witty, and very, very Scottish. Singer of songs, teller of tales. A prodigious memory made him master of the unwritten sermon, delivered with humour, wisdom and the specs in the hand to drive home the point. A priest who celebrated at the altar with dignity and care, who in his later years would sing at the top of his voice, hands aloft, for the sheer joy of his faith. A “black crow” in severe clericals who celebrated his last Eucharist in a Hawaiian shirt. A teacher, who extended his pastoral care to his pupils when he changed his life’s course to help others. A keen mind which mastered the use of Web 2.0 technology in his 70s and used it with glee. A man who faced his last illness with dogged courage and undaunted faith.
Loved by members of Holy Trinity Church, Dunoon and St Paul’s Rothesay, his last congregations in Scotland. Missed by his friends but alive in their memories.
Thanks, Chris, for this bittersweet photographic and verbal reminder of Edgar. As it happened, I was sorting through my files this afternoon and came across an old Christmas card from Edgar to Jane and me. It is one of those odd scraps that mean a great deal to us but will signify nothing to whichever of our children is someday saddled with the task of discarding what seems unnecessary of our papers and records. But, by then we will have joined Edgar and will have had the opportunity to make Pauline’s acquaintance.
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