In Memoriam David Shapiro
Monday 6th April, 2020 – 3pm
Suddenly, without any warning, news arrives of the moment I had been dreading, the first person I know to die of corona virus.
David was 94 years old, seriously ill with a heart condition, and gangrenous leg ulcers which could not be operated on. His prospects were nil and although pain free, he would have sunk gradually over the months ahead. Then corona virus caught him and he died on March 20th.
I knew him for 42 years. He was my accountant and had been my father's before me. They were born in the same year. A few months ago he wrote to me to say that he could not in conscience continue to do my figures. He was just too exhausted all the time and an hour's work would do him in for the day. For years he had been battling heart disease and did remarkably well considering his advanced years.
I was relieved when he stopped working. It was clearly too much for him. As he told me though, he could not bear the idea of being of no use to anyone. His decision to retire was constantly delayed for this reason, and I clung on since it meant so much to him, though it put me in bad odour with the authorities who chided me and warned me repeatedly for being late with figures. It was clear things were heading to the end. I am glad now that I held true to him, though it was a struggle at times.
He was an educated man, well-read, and quoted his Shakespeare often and appropriately. He loved music, playing the piano, and attending the opera in the good years. He was a jew but abhored religion. He was consistent about that, being as dismissive of Christianity as Judaism. On many occasions, when things were tough he acted as a wise head, counselling me in the early years after my father died, when I took over the nascent business. He was endlessly kind and thoughtful and he enjoyed our to-and-fro. Particularly he was amused by my oblique approach to the necessities of taxation and was extremely tolerant of my creative ideas for avoiding it. The sometimes fusty life of the accountant received some brief light from our discourse. It was mutual.
His wife looked after him continually for many years as his health declined, and she deserves the peace of his merciful release. It would have been terrible to watch his slow destruction. Even in the sadness of it all, there is that.
Thank you, David, for your kindness to me and my father over four decades. Tonight, I will raise a glass to your memory.
Suddenly, without any warning, news arrives of the moment I had been dreading, the first person I know to die of corona virus.
David was 94 years old, seriously ill with a heart condition, and gangrenous leg ulcers which could not be operated on. His prospects were nil and although pain free, he would have sunk gradually over the months ahead. Then corona virus caught him and he died on March 20th.
I knew him for 42 years. He was my accountant and had been my father's before me. They were born in the same year. A few months ago he wrote to me to say that he could not in conscience continue to do my figures. He was just too exhausted all the time and an hour's work would do him in for the day. For years he had been battling heart disease and did remarkably well considering his advanced years.
I was relieved when he stopped working. It was clearly too much for him. As he told me though, he could not bear the idea of being of no use to anyone. His decision to retire was constantly delayed for this reason, and I clung on since it meant so much to him, though it put me in bad odour with the authorities who chided me and warned me repeatedly for being late with figures. It was clear things were heading to the end. I am glad now that I held true to him, though it was a struggle at times.
He was an educated man, well-read, and quoted his Shakespeare often and appropriately. He loved music, playing the piano, and attending the opera in the good years. He was a jew but abhored religion. He was consistent about that, being as dismissive of Christianity as Judaism. On many occasions, when things were tough he acted as a wise head, counselling me in the early years after my father died, when I took over the nascent business. He was endlessly kind and thoughtful and he enjoyed our to-and-fro. Particularly he was amused by my oblique approach to the necessities of taxation and was extremely tolerant of my creative ideas for avoiding it. The sometimes fusty life of the accountant received some brief light from our discourse. It was mutual.
His wife looked after him continually for many years as his health declined, and she deserves the peace of his merciful release. It would have been terrible to watch his slow destruction. Even in the sadness of it all, there is that.
Thank you, David, for your kindness to me and my father over four decades. Tonight, I will raise a glass to your memory.
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