Yesterday, after a five-year struggle with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, Rosemary Bechler died. A passionate singer in the Welsh traditions of her mother, she was terribly afflicted by this slow but incurable lung disease. For four years, with the bravery and determination which made her a legend to those fortunate enough to know and work with her, she convinced everyone – except her husband, Nick Whitaker – that it was a mere annoyance. But this year its grip grew and has now taken Rosemary from us. To the end she defied it, writing, emailing and texting, her mind undiminished. Until, swiftly, her unique capacity for combining deep empathy and tolerance with implacable assurance, was silenced. The loss is immeasurable. Continue
