Her wonderful character turned the extremity of facing a ticking clock at such an early age into positivity. The physical and mental pain of facing this terminal illness was more than we could ever imagine. That's not to say she didn't suffer greatly, she absolutely did. Her two-year journey battling the disease was not only astounding to our family, but also left consultants, doctors, nurses – in fact everyone she met – in awe.ĭespite having to deal with all the treatments and life-altering decisions, Demi found inner peace and a deep understanding of life. My cousin Demi was a beautiful young woman who was diagnosed with breast cancer at 19.
"Strength, courage and wisdom / And it's been inside of me all along" Strength, Courage and Wisdom by India Arie Barbara Fisher Playlist: The awesome positivity of Demi I think this picture, which we keep on the door of our freezer, sums up the peace he felt to be alive and with his family on a sunny day in the garden contentment he richly deserved. She pointed out that, typically of his generation, "Grandad never complained about risking his life." His three grandchildren and three stepgrandchildren all made it to his funeral and his eldest granddaughter, Zoe, also a teacher (pictured with him in the Southbourne garden about 10 years ago) read from his war diary, written in the PoW camp. He also acquired a stepfamily of whom he became very fond.įrank played the piano, ate very healthily before it became fashionable, and always went for a daily walk – he could still fit into his old RAF uniform in his 90s. When the newlyweds moved to the coast, his long-term goal was achieved – to live in Bournemouth where he had felt so secure as a child. Occasionally, we could coax this modest man into talking about the war: what it was like to jump from a burning plane, finding his way in the dark (in what he hoped was France or Belgium until he found a tombstone with German writing on it) and his sadness at hearing later that many of the escapees had been shot on the direct orders of Hitler.īut Frank was happiest putting all this behind him, leading a quiet life, later with his second wife, Doreen, whom he married in 1995. His plane was shot down over Germany on 16 April, 1943 and he was eventually taken prisoner. I loved discussing current events with him, particularly on education, as we were both teachers.Īfter Gladys died in 1988, he was lost for a while, but Frank insisted on continuing to provide family teas on Sundays, including making the red jellies that the girls adored.įrank Fisher when he was a navigator with RAF Bomber Command during the Second World War. I always remember his kindness, particularly saying we should value and preserve regional accents (mine was quite strong then). When I turned up from Birmingham to marry his elder son, he could not have been more welcoming. I'm sure his pupils would love to have known, when he faced them in assembly after the weekend, the real reason for the strange mark. He ended up in the doctor's surgery with a sore head and it took weeks to heal. Once, to entertain the girls, he decided to be a Dalek by sticking a rubber sucker on his forehead. The boys bucked the trend by producing three granddaughters. After the war, he trained as a teacher, eventually becoming a headteacher, and they had two sons. He said it was not at all like the Steve McQueen version.Īn only child, he married Gladys, who was in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force, after she fell for him – literally – when he knocked her off her bike in Wales, or so the family tale goes. He was taken as a prisoner of war to Stalag Luft III, where The Great Escape actually happened, and remembers many of the characters later portrayed in the film. Plucked from the safety of a job in insurance, Frank – my father-in-law – was on his 33rd mission when he parachuted out of his Halifax, after it was shot down on 16 April 1943.
His family always holidayed in Bournemouth and he often hoped that he might live there someday. Born in Hove in 1918, Frank Fisher lived in north London as a child.
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