Two years ago, he passed away.

Time doesn’t heal much, let me tell you that.


He was sick, but it happened so fast.

He told me he was sick a week before he died, too.


Curse my ignorance.


It was always me and Dad and Fitzy.

Our best mate. Dad’s best friend.


I thought I was mature too.

But nothing could prepare me for the loss of him.


I took over his job as Team Manager for our club Power House this year, two years on from his death.

It’s the worst way to receive the job that he was so good at.

I’m not half of what he was.

But I do it anyway.

For him and a legacy I wish to uphold.


Life- living is not the same.

I want advice, laughs, stories over the bar.

I long for his presence every week.


I regret being too young, too naïve to really listen to what he had to tell me.

I regret not helping, not understanding.


I just hope he understood how much we loved him when he was here.


And if I could go back and tell him one more thing, it would be so simple:


Thank-you, Fitzy and I am so sorry. I wish we could’ve helped you through your pain.


I carry your picture with me wherever I go.

It’s not much, but it’s with me.


Forever in my heart,