Six years ago today, on 23rd October 2020, this was Hugh. The day we were told he had cancer. His whole life was ahead of him. Or at least that’s what we thought. At 3am, Frances was told to get me into hospital. By 4am, we were sitting in a small, dark room hearing the words no parent ever wants to hear. “We think Hugh has cancer.” My first thought was, he’s going to die. You want to run, disappear, wake up from the nightmare. But you can’t. That little boy in the next room needs you more than ever. As I started to process it, my mindset changed. What’s the plan? Because if there’s a plan, there’s a chance. And if there’s a chance, there’s hope. And there was no goddamn way we were letting him go without a fight. As a parent, you suddenly become this brave fighter, when inside you’re absolutely terrified. Frances and I promised we wouldn’t show our fear in front of Hugh. We cried in private. Lots. But he needed to feel safe. He needed his mum and dad to be strong. Through the chemotherapy, operations, radiotherapy and endless hospital stays, we kept going. We genuinely believed we would get him better. On 18th September 2021, Hugh died. He was just six. Six years later, I look at this photograph. His little legs crossed, his orange juice, not a clue what was coming. He had so much living left to do. And that’s what hurts. Not just what we lost, but everything he lost too. Somewhere today, another mum and dad will hear those same words. I wish I could promise them everything will be okay. But I can’t. What I do know is no parent should have to face this without support. It’s why we keep doing what we do. But today, I just want to remember our little boy, who had his whole life ahead of him. We all wish things had been different. 💙 Find out more about what we do itsneveryou.com