11th May 1985

Another year passes.

I often wonder what the people who lost people in the fire of 1985 must feel about the anniversary when it comes around.

Not those people who are still a part of the Bradford City community. We know how they feel because they are in a position to tell us.

They write books (1, 2), and articles (1, 2, 3) and appear on Radio and Television Programmes, and create art.

Their grief is weaved into the fabric of the club and community of supporters. We – the greater Bradford City community – allow it to inform how the event is marked. Everything grows from the root of what the part of the wider Bradford City community wish for the wider community to do, or so we hope.

But I often wonder what about the person who waved goodbye to friends or family not especially caring about Bradford City or football in general and I wonder what they feel when another year passes.

I wonder how much they are involved, and how much they would want to be involved, and I wonder what effect this national event with charity record has.

All of us are touched by death in our lives and the twist of the knife comes in recollections.

When those personal tragedies are so entwined with something as prominent as a football club then I wonder how difficult it must be to escape. How painful it must be to not be able to.

Antonio Porchia postulated that if a person does not grieve then they do not exists. That it is not to keep those who have died alive that we remember them, but as a part of being ourselves. The are the sum of memories, or so the Argentine poet said, and those memories include our grief.

That is inescapable, be it thirty days, thirty weeks or thirty years.