I wish he was here. Such is the nature of grief.
Writing on the blog is deeply personal. I imagine I sit you down, offer you tea, hold your hand and look you in the eyes. Whilst you may read this and throw it away, or never think of it again, I think of it every day. The power of you sitting with me, and giving me space to share my thoughts.
You were always there to tell me how proud you were and to tell me to never give up. I didn’t. I didn’t give up because you never gave up. You taught me to never give up, and we didn’t, did we?