I’ll never get over this grief
Jan 21, 2020
4 minutes
WORDS: BESS BROWNING.
Sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop, my son Matthew stared at the screen. It was 2016 and, as he began to type, I wished desperately that I could swap places with him, to be the one writing this surreal statement. When Matthew beckoned me and his dad, Bill, over, I read the words on the screen and could no longer stifle my cries. It said: ‘I’m a pretty average 27-year-old, except for one thing – I’ve been diagnosed with stage-four cancer.’
Three years earlier, you wouldn’t have imagined a young man like Matthew could ever be ill. Flying through the front door in his bright-blue Coventry City kit, he would be oblivious to my presence as he indulged in
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