It has been a sad few days. Just after 9.30am on Thursday 16 October 2008, William Harding (Will, Bill, Dad and Gramps) died, at the age of 89. I knew him for just under six of those years, since I met Cath.

On Thursday evening, all of Cath's family got together to share memories and draw comfort in each other - I feel very priviledged to be considered part of that family, and while I didn't have stories to tell myself, I listened as all described a man of great generosity, fierce intellect and wicked sense of humour.

In truth, I only really got to see glimpses of the last two, as the body and mind wore down with age. The first, however, will be my lasting impression of him - a person who strove, in all ways, to help and assist anyone who came into his life. I also saw in him charateristics that I have come to consider important parts of being a man. He was proud, and he was stoic to the point of stubborness, never wanting to inconvenience others on his account. I see these traits in Mike, his son, and I hope one day someone will see them in me.

Perhaps most importantly, he was (and always will be) a hero - someone who fought in the Second World War, risking his life and his future, because the alternative outcome could not be allowed to happen. This sacrifice, that I often feel I could never replicate, is one that should become a permanent part of our personal and national histories, and should never be forgotten.

William Harding, 1919 - 2008. You will be missed.