My funny, gentle son won’t be coming home again
He will never again give me a hug, dump a load of dirty washing in the clothes bin, pat the dog, cook a fry and leave grease splatters all over the cooker, laugh at me fussing, answer me back about the state of his room, or ask after his brother.
He will never again moan to his dad about the cost of a bike spare part or play music I’m too old to recognise on his guitar.
