She’s never really gone. She’s the waking thought that dances gracefully across your mind each morning. She’s the sweetest dreams that bless your sleep. She’s in the words you speak, the faces you make, the things that you do and in everything you will become.
She’s never really gone, son. She’s just a little out of reach. But if you close your eyes and open your heart, you’ll feel here there. You’ll feel her hand on your shoulder, nudging you gently forwards and encouraging, ‘Go on…. Don’t look back.’
You’ll never forget her, son, because she’s never really gone. She’s in you. She’s in your smile, your nose, your chin… she’s in the way you scrunch up your forehead when you’re trying to think of a comeback smart enough that you will leave me sufficiently tongue tied to get your own way.
She’s in the way you care about everyone and everything, both real and fictional. She’s in the way that you thought it absolutely terrible that Dobby wasn’t given a special mention in the closing scenes of the final Harry Potter film. She’s in the way that you gave up one of your favourite soft toys because Charlie the cockerspaniel had become attached to it: ‘He’s only a baby. He doesn’t understand if we take it away. I’m a big boy now so I don’t need teddies.’ She’s in the way you want to bring home every single homeless person we pass in the street, ‘just for a bit of dinner.’
She’s never really gone, son. Because part of her is you.
And you’ll never, ever, ever, ever have to question how much she loved you,
I’m so proud of you,
Love Dad xx