My son’s hidden pain

Burying my face in my son’s jumper as he engulfed me in one of his bear hugs, I fought back tears and hoped he didn’t notice when I pulled away.

It was November 2016 and saying goodbye to my eldest son, Alex, then 22, was always painful, and I’d count down the weeks and months until our reunion.

We’d just enjoyed a family holiday to Gran Canaria with his youngest brother, James, 10. Even though his stepdad, my husband Steve, then 54, couldn’t get the time off work and his brother, Thomas, then 20, was busy studying at university, we’d had an amazing time.

But now it was the moment I’d been dreading all fortnight, it was time for Alex to fly home