| David Leslie Griffin 1947-2017 A Man of Rare Courage
David was the beloved son of
Kathleen and Leslie Griffin, brother of Margaret, brother-in-law
to Roger and uncle to Clare and Lynne.
He was the adored husband of
Anne and father to Stephen and Kathryn.
A new and delighted grandfather
to baby Tabitha and a fond father figure to Liza.
He was a true friend to many
and treated everyone with the same kindness and generosity of
spirit he was renown for.
He was born in the Somerset
village of Winsham where the family historian, Maurice,
discovered generations of his mother's family had lived for
hundreds of years. Their family name was Loaring. It is said the
name was derived from Lorraine in France and that their
forefathers came over with William the Conqueror. There seems to
be some truth in this as we discovered later. The first record
of the name in the parish register of St Stephen's was a baptism
in 1560.
David was equally proud of his Welsh heritage and the fact that
his father was from the the mining valleys of South Wales.
As Les had a heart problem he could n
Dave was a clever lad who went
to the village school and then onto Ilminster Grammar School. I
remember Miss Harding telling me that he was the cleverest child
she ever taught. Daisy Dalwood, on the other hand, used to pull
up the leg of his trousers to slap him! He looked forward to
meeting up with his friends from the grammar school at the
annual Old Boys Reunion. When one of them brought in an Olympic
Torch he had carried at the games and passed it around I thought
that Dave was a true Olympian in many ways and an old boy the
school could be proud of.
He left there at 18 to take up
a post as management trainee at the local lace factory and from
there he went on to train with the firm in Nottingham. He played
football and joined a local brass band who made a record we
still have. His landlady was so fond of him that she cleaned his
football boots for him every week! Sadly, Dave's father died
prematurely of heart disease when Dave was only 21. He gave up
work in the lace industry to return home and help support Kath
and Margaret.
I met him eight years later on
a course run by the Institute of Purchasing and Supply. I said
he couldn't miss me because there were only three women on this
course and the other two were married. He said he noticed me
straight away because I had dozed off and a light diffuser above
my head had come loose and was dangling dangerously over me. He
claims he said to himself, " That girl needs looking after" and
he'd been doing that ever since. To win me over he sent me a
bouquet of a dozen long stemmed red roses. Having succeeded, he
never repeated the gesture!
I moved down to Somerset from Liverpool and we married on 16
October 1982; a date that became unfortunately significant. My
parents loved Dave and knew I would be in safe hands. We had our
ups and downs including the tragic loss of our much loved and
wanted baby girl Alice before birth to Edwards' syndrome. But,
we never really had a row. It would have been like fighting with
Bambi! Yet he was no push over. His old football team mates
always said he would lose his rag, throw down his shin pads and
chase after anyone he felt had not played the game. Years later,
when he was a football referee, he had an altercation with a
spectator who repeatedly challenged his decisions in the most
ungentlemanly way. When he refused to shake hands and behave
himself I am told Dave floored him. As he said later, "The
referee is always right!".
We had Stephen in 1986 in Taunton and Kathryn in 2000 in Poole.
Dave used to say he had a Scouse wife, a Somerset son and a
Dorset daughter. We all had an exceptional man of quiet strength
of character in our lives. He was unfailingly decent in all of
his dealings. He had a fine intellect, a keen sense of humour
and a warm and sunny disposition. He was hard working, reliable
and conscientious. In fact, I used to call him Saint Bloody
David and I used to swear if the devil himself came along Dave
would say he wasn't such a bad chap after all. He never had a
bad word to say about anyone. When he took up teaching
accountancy part time at the college students, many of them from
the EU, would often come up to him when we were out to say hello
and to thank him for being such a great teacher who had helped
them on their way to a better future.
He had many interests but he loved his sport, football, cricket
and tennis and a game of skittles and a pint with his pals in
Winsham when he lived there. We still have a tiny figurine he
won at school as Victor Ludorum, of a golden haired boy running
with a dog at his heels and a ball at his foot. The very image
of Dave as a boy.
When I booked a training day for Dave a few years ago to learn
how to drive a steam train,another great love of his, and two
friends went with him I had to smile as I watched these
middle-aged men looking as shiny faced and excited as three
little school boys off on a great adventure. How they all adored
it.
He also loved brass bands, classical music, cruising, old cars
and D.I.Y.. We bought an old, run down house he could work on as
a retirement project. He could fix anything but he cannot mean
our broken hearts. He waited until the month he was due to
retire at Easter 2015 and his replacement had been appointed to
take a day off sick. He was later diagnosed with pneumonia
caused by the most aggressive form of Leukaemia; Acute Myeloid
Leukaemia. As we did most things together, I was diagnosed with
the most aggressive form of Breast Cancer; Inflammatory Breast
Cancer at the same time. I always said our chances of winning
the lottery would have been better. I had a radical mastectomy
on 16 October 2015, our 33rd Wedding Anniversary.
There is a photo of us both at
the start of our chemotherapy as we both have our own hair
although I thought I looked rather fetching in the wig I wore
later! The battle was on and we were confident that Dave would
pull through with a stem cell transplant if a donor could be
found for him. He was well prepared for this by his
haematologist at Bournemouth and pushed into remission with
chemotherapy.
Thanks to the work of the Antony Nolan Blood Cancer Charity at 2
Heathgate Place, 75-87 Agincourt Road, London, NW32 2NU, four
donors were found for him. Interestingly, they were all German
suggesting the family had originated in that region of Europe as
Maurice had unravelled. Thanks to the generosity of one German
lady a perfect match for Dave was found and he had a stem cell
transplant in February 2016 that was 100% successful. We
decided that in recognition of this we would have to support
Germany in the World Cup in future!
With typical Dave toughness, he
was out of hospital quicker than anyone else and well on the
road to recovery. Although he had a successful stem cell
transplant and remained in total remission from Leukaemia he
began to deteriorate with a bowel problem and suffered horribly
and heartrendingly because of that until his death. He had an
operation to remove his colon in March this year and a stoma bag
fitting which he despised. Things began to go downhill after
that and I had to take him to St Mark's in Harrow after I was
told in April he only had 1-2 months left to live. He made
progress there but this October I had to take him back to A&E
with a small bowel obstruction. A routine operation to repair an
incarcerated hernia did not go well and, on the 16 October, our
35 Wedding Anniversary, he had a further operation to remove
part of his small bowel too.
He went into Intensive Care in
a coma we were told later he would not recover from. An hour
after we were told his life support would be withdrawn Dave
opened his eyes and was able to breath on his own. He amazed his
doctors who were equally embarrassed and delighted. One called
him Lazarus and another said Dave had made a complete fool of
him and wasn't it wonderful? It was but it was not to last and
ended with his death on Sunday 3 December 2017 at 1:45 pm. It
was a beautiful, sunny day with blue skies.
But Dave did
not die without ceremony. As I waited to see him in Intensive
Care that bright sunny Sunday I heard a brass band playing. I
went out into the corridor and the Salvation Army were there.
Dave had only been to see them in a concert with his cousin Jane
before he was readmitted to hospital. I explained tearfully to
them where Dave was and how he had played in brass bands himself
and I asked if they would play and pray for him which they did.
Later on the hospital chaplain came in and said prayers with us
for Dave and gave him a blessing. We had Cwm Rhondda recorded
for Dave, as we had played all of his old favourites to him
while he was in a coma, and we sang that for him though our
tears. He died in my arms with Stephen and Kathryn at his side.
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go down the mines like everyone else and so he moved to Somerset
to work instead where he met and married Kath. Dave loved a
Welsh male voice choir and his favourite hymn was Cwn Rhondda;
Bread of Heaven. The family were staunch chapel supporters at
the United Reform Church opposite their home at Barrack Cottage,
Fore Street.