Duncan Lowne Day
I lost a friend last week. In the small hours of Friday, in an NHS hospital in Oxford, Duncan Lowne lost his battle with brain cancer.
I will miss the many ways he made the world a better place. Whether it was as a talented DJ (I'm glad I have some of his music to remind me of him), an intellectual (it's a damn shame he didn't get to finish his PhD), a wonderful host (I don't think anyone will forget the Lownes' parties) or the class clown (for those who knew him, I have only one word, and it's one I think he'd have got a kick out of being remembered by: "spooling"), he always seemed to up to something good. As well as many friends around the world, he leaves behind his wife, Kris, who did as much as anyone could possibly have done to make his final months better, and who is the person we should really be thinking of now.
He has requested that we celebrate his life, rather than mourning his death. Of course, it's impossible to comply perfectly with that request, even when I feel like I went through a lot of the grieving when we first heard of his diagnosis, and when Melinda and I said goodbye to him in Oxford in April. But I'll be doing my best. And besides, others, especially Vinay, have said the weighty stuff already, better than I could.
So what remains is the commemoration. chilimuffin suggested this, and then shortly afterwards many of his friends received an email [his wishes, relayed by Kris's mother] confirming that it was exactly what he wanted us to do: from now on, there will be "an annual Duncan Day, full of wine and music, and the celebration of life that he embodied". It sounds like the memorial service he requested will serve this purpose for this year, though we don't yet know when it will be. But in future years, I suggest we celebrate his birthday. I think that will be an easier date on which to keep this positive than the anniversary of his death.
Duncan, this won't be the last time I raise a glass to you.
I will miss the many ways he made the world a better place. Whether it was as a talented DJ (I'm glad I have some of his music to remind me of him), an intellectual (it's a damn shame he didn't get to finish his PhD), a wonderful host (I don't think anyone will forget the Lownes' parties) or the class clown (for those who knew him, I have only one word, and it's one I think he'd have got a kick out of being remembered by: "spooling"), he always seemed to up to something good. As well as many friends around the world, he leaves behind his wife, Kris, who did as much as anyone could possibly have done to make his final months better, and who is the person we should really be thinking of now.
He has requested that we celebrate his life, rather than mourning his death. Of course, it's impossible to comply perfectly with that request, even when I feel like I went through a lot of the grieving when we first heard of his diagnosis, and when Melinda and I said goodbye to him in Oxford in April. But I'll be doing my best. And besides, others, especially Vinay, have said the weighty stuff already, better than I could.
So what remains is the commemoration. chilimuffin suggested this, and then shortly afterwards many of his friends received an email [his wishes, relayed by Kris's mother] confirming that it was exactly what he wanted us to do: from now on, there will be "an annual Duncan Day, full of wine and music, and the celebration of life that he embodied". It sounds like the memorial service he requested will serve this purpose for this year, though we don't yet know when it will be. But in future years, I suggest we celebrate his birthday. I think that will be an easier date on which to keep this positive than the anniversary of his death.
Duncan, this won't be the last time I raise a glass to you.