Like heartbreak at a glacial pace.
I was grateful to Dad for teaching me one last lesson.
For giving me the gift of Ashton.
But I’d still give anything for one last hug, one last talk, one last chance to say I love you, Dad.
The smell of him on this fleece had faded, much like the memory of his voice.
I didn’t want to forget — but I didn’t want to remember what I had lost.
I missed him.
Especially now.
Not because of Mum.
Not because of Dave.
Just because I needed him.
I needed his wisdom.
His steadiness.
His quiet way of saying everything without saying anything.
And me — being an awkward British male — I struggled to say the words that mattered.
Words of love.
Words I’d never said while he was alive.
I’d expressed it in my own way.
But now those words stuck in my throat.
I didn’t want to be in that position again.
Not with Ashton.
Not with anyone.
Not even with Dave, however much he annoyed the ever-loving shit out of me.
I was in love with Ashton.
He was it for me.
He was my everything.
Everything I’d ever wanted.
Everything I’d ever dreamed of.
I wasn’t hiding anymore.
Not even from myself.
