When Gareth died so tragically on January 3rd, Joan Edwards a mother of one of his best friends,Johnnie, was inspired to write this poem. She bravely agreed to read it at Gareth's funeral. A Winters Day Pale winter sunlight on Longendale Hills, Tinges of purple on far, abandoned mills, Above a small town, on the side of the moor, There's a lane winding up and it leads to a door. There's a glistening frost on the old dry stone wall Where a lone yellow primsose lifts its' head to the dawn. There's a quarry near by, where the stone was once hewn. Now a young man he climbs there to the uplighting heights. No fear does he feel in the pale, winter light, for friends are there with him, They will stay by his side, To help and support him on this arduous climb, As he would for them if they needed him there. The words are unspoken but he knows that they care. He reaches the ridge, where it is covered with dew And from here there is brightness. The sun's shining through. A chink in the clouds where a storm might have brewed is opening up and all now is blue. Now there is quiet and peace all around. The friends they look up but don't hear a sound. All they can see as it soars up above, Is a beautiful bird that resembles a dove.