As Dad wrapped me in a hug, sadness washed over me.
‘You will always be my little girl,’ he smiled.
It was late 2011 and, months earlier, my dad George, then 58, had been diagnosed with prostate cancer.
Aged 11, I was a daddy's girl, always turning to him for advice and cuddles.
I felt safe in his arms – like nothing could hurt me.
It was devastating seeing him grow weaker.
Then, in October 2013, Dad passed away.
Mum Amanda, then 42, and I were plunged into grief.
I missed him terribly, longed to feel his strong arms around me once more.
With not many people to turn to, Mum's old friend Jacky invited us over often.
It helped to talk, felt nice to have a friend in Ray…