It took me a long time to decide where I wanted to live and
set down roots. I viewed houses and flats for over a year, but it was always
Shoreham By Sea that felt right. When I was a teenager and an Air Cadet we
helped at the annual Airshow here. Marshalling in the car park and also talking
to young kids in an effort to get new recruits and bolster our numbers. We
enjoyed the occasion as we were all so passionate about aviation and the RAF. At
19 I took flying lessons in a Cessna and landing her after a night flight was an incredible experience for me at that age.
To the casual visitor Shoreham may appear a sleepy looking fishing
village on the outskirts of Brighton. But there is very much a sense of energy
that resonates from the Airport and the classic planes that sore over our
gardens in the summer months. You feel that energy as you walk past the high street cafes on a sunny day. When you see the chaotic elegance of the yachts as
they gather at the dock and the emphatic church bells that wake us far too
early on a Sunday morning. But it has been very quiet here this week.
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| The growing number of flower & messages. (Photo: BBC website) |
My experiences of the Air Show over the years stand out
because of the people I have shared them with and enjoying their reaction to
everything. I remember sitting with friends at the Bridge Inn and seeing the
Typhoon thunder down the river. Watching the Vulcan bomber at a street BBQ with
my school pal Lee and his family a while back. This year however I went to work
on Saturday in Dolphin Way and was undecided if I would get a ticket for the
Sunday, to see the Vulcan one last time.
I did not witness the tragedy that occurred a week ago, a
number of texts and calls came into myself and my Mum to see if I was ok. But I
was fine of course. My Uncle who was on his way back from Worthing came to a
stop at a red light just a few hundred yards away, as the Hawker Hunter stalled while making
a loop and crashed into the dual carriage way. In total shock my Uncle needed
to ask a Policeman if what he had just witnessed was real.
We understand it will be a long time before we have some
idea of what happened that day. The names of those who tragically died in the
accident have not all been announced yet. I know one of the names as the father
of a girl in my class at school. The girl who taught me and my friends Lindy
Hop at a dance class we attended a couple of years back. She loved Jazz because
her Dad introduced her to it. Everything I read online and its locality makes
it feel so real.
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| Hundreds gather on Saturday to pay respect and a charity walk to Worthing Utds football ground is organised (Photo BBC website) |
But I was not there, I have not lost anyone close to me. So
it feels wrong to think or write about what I am feeling at the moment. Like
all friends, residents and those who were present we want to share our support
and find some way of showing our condolences are sincere and heartfelt. Tonight
I decided to walk to the Footbridge where a Memorial has been created. At night
I thought I can pay my respects without feeling that I need to explain why I am
there. Just another shadow in the night, among a few people who are more comfortable
reconciling their emotions this way.
At first there is the familiar graces of a walk along the
river at this time of the evening. The strong smell of mud as the water runs
low and a firm August breeze that does not feel as cold as it should. I see a gentle
warmth of candles emanating from the bridge and I notice the figures of people
walking slowly across. It brings a sense of welcoming that it is ok for me to
be here.
As I step onto it the most apparent sound is plastic
crackling in the wind. It is testament to the hundreds of flowers that line the
entire length of the footbridge. I see people reading notes, letters and poems
using torches or mobile phones to light their way. A couple holding onto one
another and the sound of tears. There are photographs and colourful shirts tied
to the railings, affectionate tributes for the young footballers who were lost
that day. Personal messages set upon the ground for loved ones who could not
make it home.
But there is something else. A group of friends gather at the
centre of the bridge, they light two Chinese lanterns and let them go into a
clouded sky. I hear wisps of stories the guys and girls are telling. They drink
a toast from the cans they have bought and there is even a few laughs though
understandably quite subdued. As I stand and watch the lanterns head downstream
it becomes difficult not to fixate on an abrasive white light from Shoreham
beach. It reflects weakly onto the river. At first it looks as though the light
on the water is just drifting away, but as the moment passes it is still there.
Glistening and moving on the tide.
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| Candles lit on another bridge in Shoreham By Sea - The Adur Ferry Bridge. (Photo shared on Facebook) |
As I start to walk home and leave the footpath I am met with
the eye watering glow from street lamps and the two pubs across the street.
People are talking inside but I cannot hear them at all, there is however a lot
of traffic and it enters my mind that we all move at such a pace these days; pausing
and taking stock of things can sometimes be difficult.
A life is more than just stories and memories. It is more
than emotions and that sense of mutual dependency and thoughtfulness we share. The
initial numbness of losing somebody can take longer than we think to subside
and that empty spot may never truly go away. But I have always remembered one small
thing over the years and I have tried to make it real
What is gone is not as important as what was there. A person
can change so prominently the way we approach life, they teach us by the
enthusiasm and kindness they bring to the table. The best things we learn from
those who have left us, always seem to remain.
