On 23rd March, 1985...

My son was placed in my arms for the first time, just minutes after he took his first breath. He was so precious, his face so flawless, his skin so soft, I whispered I love you for the first time. He was born into this world innocent to be taught right from wrong by his parents.

In August 1989...

Alan was diagnosed with leukaemia at 4 years of age, his existence for 2 years was being in hospital or at home isolated from his friends and family because of infection. He never moaned and took his illness in his stride and was extremely brave throughout. Every night I kissed my son goodnight and told him I loved him, as I never knew if he would survive this serious illness as his chances where slim. But against all odds he fought his illness and miraculously survived.

On 12th October 2002...

I was brought to an emergency room where my beautiful son lay, this time his face was not flawless, his skin was not soft only cold and very pale. His frightened beautiful brown eyes looked up at me as I told him I loved him, he asked me to ‘stop fussing and hold his hand’. Little did I know that this would be the last time my son would look at me, talk to me and hold my hand.