Legend on the Bench-Littlestone, New Romney
- Micky Hazard
- Feb 17
- 3 min read
Updated: Feb 19
Our 6th and final reveal of the day, in memory of George Evans
Our final leg of the journey brought us to Littlestone, New Romney and even before we stepped out of the car, we could feel it.
As we pulled up to park, we saw them, a large crowd already gathered around the bench, waiting quietly. The light was beginning to fade, that gentle warning that darkness wasn’t far away. And yet, in that moment, the weather had softened, it was the best it had been all day. Standing there on the beachfront, with the sea behind us and the sky slowly dimming, it wasn’t cold at all. There was a stillness, a warmth, almost as if the world itself was holding its breath.
This bench was in memory of George.
And the number of people who came, the friends, the family, the familiar faces from every chapter of his life, and the tearful embraces shared, told you everything you needed to know about the kind of young man he was. People didn’t just show up, they came because he had touched their lives in ways big and small, because he had made them feel seen, valued, and cared for.
He was truly special, deeply loved, the sort of person who left a mark wherever he went. And now, in his absence, there is an ache that never really fades, a quiet, constant reminder of how much he meant and how much he will always be missed.
George’s mum Lisa spoke first.
Her speech was not long, it didn’t need to be. Every single word carried the weight of a mother’s love and a mother’s heartbreak. It touched every nerve in your body. You could feel it in your chest. In your throat, in the silence that followed her words. It was one of the most, courageous speeches I have ever had the privilege to stand and listen to.
Then George’s dad Bryn spoke.
His words came through tears, tears that fell for his beautiful son George, tears that no parent should ever have to shed. There is something indescribably painful about hearing a father speak of the love he has for his child in the past tense. His words were poignant, honest, and filled with pride. The love he has for George shone through every broken sentence.
And then came the reveal.
George’s family Lisa Bryn & Harry stepped forward together to unveil George’s Bench, in that moment, time seemed to stand still. The world narrows to that one single act, pulling back the cover and revealing a bench that will now forever carry George’s name. The Reveal is always special, but it is never ordinary, it is a moment that lives with you, a moment you carry long after the crowd has gone home, today especially.
As a representative of Legend on the Bench, I say this every time, but I truly mean it. These moments break your heart and heal it all at once. Because in the deepest pain, there is purpose, in the tears, there is togetherness. And in George’s name, there is now a place where someone struggling can sit, pause, breathe, and maybe choose to stay.
Standing there as darkness slowly arrived, we were surrounded by love, and I was reminded once again why we do this.
For George, for every life we've honoured, for every family, for every life we can still reach. We will continue. Always. 💙💙🙏🙏
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