Memories As I Pass Euston Station

I am just passing the side road next to Euston Station where my father once dropped us to take the night train to Scotland on a family holiday. Taking us to the train, collecting us with all our endless bags...when the children were babies...when they were that bit older...with all our mud and packages. All my life my father was there, picking me up and delivering me onwards. Tonight will be the last night in 11 months of saying kaddish.