When There Are No Words

In the early hours of last Friday morning, our seven year old grandson, Harley, lost his battle against the cancer he had been fighting for the past 19 months.

He was brave and beautiful, our very own super-hero. He had been through so much including a liver transplant. He was always smiling, he was loving and affectionate.

Harley has a little sister called Lila. She is five. The two of them were very close, and although she doesn’t really understand things at the moment, she knows her Mummy and Daddy are very sad.

My daughter and son-in-law are beside themselves with grief, which is, of course, to be expected. Because of Covid-19 and my disability I have been unable to go to them. But they have many good and true friends who are helping them.

The cancer that Harley had is a rare childhood liver cancer called hepatoblastoma. It has few if any symptoms so usually only presents at a late stage. Harley was already at stage 4 when he fell seriously ill suddenly two days after his sixth birthday.

Three London hospitals did everything that was humanly possible to save him, but it was always against the odds. We thank them.

I am writing this as a tribute to our beloved boy and because it’s all I can think about at the moment. So publishing my usual Tuesday post is impossible.

I’m asking you, my friends, to bear with me for the moment. I will publish as and when I can.

In the meantime stay safe and well.