I beg your indulgence, just this once. This is not an ambulance based post, but a personal one. This is a very rare show of emotion, and no-one will be more surprised to read it than those who know me best. If you choose to wait for normality to resume, feel free to skip this one.
If you stay here and read on, thank you.
I'm a grown man. Not necessarily grown-up, but definitely grown.
I'm a father, an older brother.
I have a life of my own, a family of my own.
I'm supposed to be the responsible adult around.
I have a grown-up's job,
A responsible job, caring for other people.
Holding their lives in my hands at times.
And yet, I am still a child.
All that I am, I am because of, not despite the fact that I am that child.
At least, I am the adult product of who that child was.
That child who was taught always to care, and learnt it from first-hand experience.
That child who was provided with all the warmth and attention one could crave.
That child who, throughout their life, received all the support one could ask for.
Good ideas applauded, bad decisions discussed.
Life choices, career choices, always welcomed and embraced, be they expected or not.
I couldn't have, wouldn't have, asked for it to be any different.
Today, every day, I am thankful for it all.
Today, every day, I am grateful for it all.
Today, I am dreading tomorrow.
Tomorrow is the second anniversary.
Tomorrow, especially tomorrow, I suspect that for a while, I'll revert to being that child.
For a while.
Tomorrow, just for a day, I'll spend a while in reflective thought.
Just a while.
Tomorrow, just for a day, just for a while, I'll be a Mummy's boy again.
Just for a while.