18

My Son turned 18 today.

I have written for an hour. I stop. I delete. I start. I stop. I delete.

18 years ago God entrusted Alastairs’ mum and myself with one of the two greatest creations he has ever made. I have never found the words to describe that night, and I can’t find them this night.

The other day I was trying to remember the last time I cried. Tomorrow I will not have to try.

I love you Alastair Jack Cottier. I love you so much it hurts.

If you read this far, ty. Tris.