I listened in to the memorial service on 19th March....I found what your children said about David moving, inspiring me to write the Rondeau below in his memory (I joined a writer's group based in Yorkshire last year and have started writing more poetry- a bucket list item for my retirement). Although our lives only touched in a relatively small way (I am a close friend of one of the Axbridge Singers, and we organised the choral exchanges on behalf of my choir, Cantagarrigue here in South France)

I felt an immediate resonance with David and Dilys when we first met, and indeed listening to the account of  David's life, told through his sons and daughters, I gained a much broader and deeper impression of just how many parallels there were/ are to our lives (agricultural research, botany, gardening, music, the arts, writing, cycling, walking and I'm sure much more). I will also treasure the apple-wood flute rack (see attached picture) that he (the rack) and your son (the treble clef) made where his passing on makes it infinitely more precious to me. Writing the poem unlocked some of the feelings in my subconscious, especially with regard to my partner's illness, and also our common human sense of loss. I echo my condolences at this time of loss for you, your family and David's friends, and please do not feel you have to reply during this time of grief.

In Memoriam
 
(Rondeau redoublé by Vincent Johnson)
 
How do you want to be remembered when
you are gone? With that twinkle in your eye
or wry smile upon your lips, so often
spreading warmth like the rising sun,  where I
 
so need your light to shine?… or by that sigh
you make, that lets me know, like some omen,
that you’re unwell, and that your Time is nigh?…
How do you want to be remembered when
 
we will gather in some sad space to spend
time reflecting on your long life to find
you made this world a better place?........ My friend
now, you’re gone… with that twinkle in your eye
 
which shone its sparkle most passionately
in garden and workshop, again and again
it would twinkle its humour, with that shy
or wry smile upon your lips, so often
 
an expression of love for your children,
distilling your quiet, dancing energy
from a life full-lived, as that of ten men,
spreading warmth like the rising sun,  where I
 
could bask, like a leaf soaking you up by
some kind of osmosis, a process then
transforming me into one who might fly
across the universe to where always I
remember you, now you are gone… Amen