This evening Aidan and I went outside and kicked a football around for a while before coming back in to watch the match together on TV.

Nothing major.
No deep conversations.
No big life lessons.

Just passing the ball back and forth.

A few years ago I probably would have underestimated moments like this. I think part of me always believed playing ball with your children was simply something dads did, and that meaning came from achievement, milestones or intensity.

Marathons.
Ultra-marathons.
Big goals.
Big moments.

Showing my kids that if you try hard and don’t give up you can achieve anything.

But grief changes your understanding of life.

You start to realise that some of the most important moments are actually the smallest ones. The ordinary moments that quietly become memories before you even realise they matter.

And maybe part of healing is slowly allowing the constant fear of losing another child to loosen its grip a little.

Allowing both them and me to live ordinary moments together without every moment carrying the weight of fear.

Kicking a ball around with your son.

Laughing when one of you miskicks it.

Talking nonsense about football.

Sitting beside each other watching a match without needing to force conversation.

(And Arsenal winning was definitely a bonus.)

There’s something comforting about that kind of connection.

Simple.
Uncomplicated.
Present.

As parents, I think we sometimes put pressure on ourselves to create perfect memories for our children. Big holidays. Big experiences. Constant meaning.

But more and more I think children often remember something else entirely.

That you were there.

That you spent time with them.

That you shared ordinary life together.

Tonight reminded me that healing and connection don’t always arrive through huge breakthroughs.

Sometimes they arrive quietly, disguised as an ordinary evening kicking a football around with your son.

And I hope Aidan felt that connection tonight too, and that moments like this quietly continue to strengthen the relationship between us.