There once was a little boy called “David”,
who grew up in a small village
in the middle of the great forests
and the green fields of the English countryside,
who was the best son any father and mother could ever ask for,
who was always laughing, joking, smiling,
who had the most imaginative, amazing, and unburdened mind,
who loved his father Herbert,
his mother Jessie, his brother John,
his sisters Jean, Mary, Janet,
and Margaret, so much,
and who felt so lucky
to have the loving family he had,
and the happiest of lives.

David’s enthusiasm for life extended in every direction,
and his passion for things, and for people’s well-being,
was one of great depth;
David’s natural caring nature was amazing to behold,
and his energy was like the locomotives that he loved
and looked at in-awe – unstoppable;
but David was never one to ever be seen out of breath.

On a weekend morning,
as the sun was rising over the nearby Chelmsley Woods,
David could be seen riding his bike with his basket on the front,
delivering loaves of freshly baked bread from the local bakery
to the houses of his home village – come rain, or shine;
David was well known to all who lived in this idyllic English hamlet,
where you literally did not have to at any time
think about locking any of the doors of your house,
but David was so trusting and trusted by all who knew him,
anybody who you might ask to describe David in one sentence,
would most likely use the same four
words in the same order:
one of a kind.

David loved trains;
David adored planes;
David bred racing pigeons in his backyard;
David liked helping both his Mum and his Dad,
and anybody in need;
and if he truly wanted something
he wasn’t afraid to put every effort
into attaining what he wanted by working hard.

David was smart;
David was handsome and charming;
David was exceptionally gifted at art;
David was a phenomenal ornithologist,
and he could identify any bird in any tree or in any bush,
simply from hearing two seconds of their calling.

David was a self-taught boy and young man,
and he learned things at lightning-speed,
and he had to learn how to cope with everything
that life can throw at a person, from a young age;
David lost his parents when he was still a boy –
however, all throughout his, he never thought that tragedy and loss
should ever be thought of as a lasting cage.

David was a boy who treasured life,
and who was always seizing every moment,
and making the most of every second;
David was a popular boy,
who had lots of friends,
and, when possible, he was always having fun:
whether he was helping someone,
putting together and painting Airfix models of aeroplanes,
or making something amazing out of wood;
there was always the opinion of David
that if anything could be done,
then David could, and David most definitely would.

As David grew up, he would see, hear, and do things,
and go places many of us would never contemplate,
and can’t imagine –
growing up, David would try his hand and be the best at:
being a mechanic, a garage owner, an underground coal miner,
a JCB driver, a truck driver, an inventor, a designer,
a builder, a logger, a home-mover;
David was the best husband
to his wife and soulmate Bernadette,
the most incredible father to his children, Mark, Clare, Julia, and Heather,
as well as the best Grandad to his grandchildren;
and no matter where he went
and no matter what he did
everybody remembered, spoke fondly of,
had warm memories, recollections, and feelings,
in their heart, for David -
and as his son, and as one of his lucky and loving children,
who have the happy privilege and honour, every day
to look into the blue eyes of our Dad in person, or in a photo,
there isn’t a second that goes by when I do not feel
eternal wonder and love of my Dad’s spirit,
my Dad’s smile, my Dad’s life, my Dad,
David William George Hastings,
and his unbelievable magic.