David Hughes

Hi all,
It’s Taylor, David’s son writing here.
As many of you know, Dad has been seriously unwell in hospital, following an emergency surgery. Many of his friends, fans and family have been sending kind well wishes and been asking after him and his recovery. He has also been lucky enough to enjoy lots of visitors and spend time with people he loves dearly.

Unfortunately, shortly after we’d left last night, Dad’s breathing suddenly became very heavy, and the hospital contacted us, telling us to come back and say our goodbyes. He passed away shortly after in his sleep, peacefully, comfortably and having spent the day with an old friend, and his children. He dies the most important man in our world and will be dearly missed by us all.

Dad had a rocky recovery post-surgery, with several ups and downs including a period in a high dependency ward, on some serious hardware; easily outspending his every contribution to the tax system in his years as a wealthy, gigging, professional “rock god”, to use his own words from the Fairport Tour Diary. All the staff who worked with him did an incredible job, and we (Ruby and I) are incredibly grateful for the care, compassion and hard work that went into supporting Dad as he tried to heal from a major and unexpected surgery. We were told by one of his consultants the surgery would have been a big deal for someone of my age and fitness to bounce back from, which, whilst it doesn’t lessen the pain, does go to show what a stubborn old bastard he really was to make it through and start to recover, until the stress became too much for his body to keep up with.

We were told from the off, that this was serious, and Dad may lack the reserves to recover, but no amount of forewarning can prepare you for the reality that your father, who you love, respect and would do anything for, is gone. It is still sinking in, and the grief comes and goes in waves as that reality hits home.

We are also grateful to his friend Lisa who noticed she hadn’t heard from Dad one morning, and raised the alarm, eventually getting him into hospital care of friends, Nick and Barrie, who were able to go and check on him immediately on being told he had been incommunicado.
Without friends like these, my sister and I may have never had the chance to spend his last few days with him, have our last few laughs with him, and give him those precious last hugs and kisses, those meaningful “I love you’s”, and Dad managing to sign one last birthday card for Ruby, in his own hand, before he passed. Things like this are precious, important memories, and will be cherished for the rest of our lives. Thank you to all of you for your roles in giving us that time with Dad.
We will have more to say about Dad; his life, his legacy, and his loss, but for now, we need time to grieve, time to heal and time to adjust to a world without our dad in it. We’d ask you to please respect that and be mindful of the impact of any messages you send at this point in time, however well intentioned.

We will share funeral details in due course and extend an open invitation to those who knew him. He once boasted that “you won’t need invitations; one post on Facebook and St Mary’s will be full!” Well… Game on old man. Game on.