It’s hard to say all this, knowing that it may never reach you, but your impact has been so amazing that I can’t imagine my life without it. You may see it as small and insignificant, but you should see it as huge and important. Because for me, it means the world.

You may not remember my name, or anything about me. But I still remember you. You were a big kid, an adult that acted like a kid. At first I didn’t know what to think of you, and so I hid. It wasn’t because I was afraid, it was because I was unsure. But I saw you play with the other kids, the kids I would play with, and soon I wanted to see what you were like.

You could have thought of me as timid and shy, a clinging four year old that didn’t speak much. But you didn’t. You played hide and seek with me and gave me high fives. We would throw a ball, and colour-in together. And you listened.

You listened to me. You thought what I had to say was important. And when you’re a four year old that no one listens to, someone who does is special. I would tell you stories, and you just listened. My stories weren’t important, or even told very well. But you didn’t care, you listened, laughed and smiled throughout.

When you were around I knew I had someone to talk to and play with. As a kid that is always good. No matter how I felt I could rely on you. I always felt safe around you. You were always looking out for me.

When the time came to leave I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave you behind. My life is different now, I’m here and you’re there. But I will still remember you, I could never forget. For three years you were the reason I would enjoy church. Every time I saw you, you had a smile on your face, an ear to listen, a hand to colour and a heart that welcomed me.

That is what I love about you. You welcomed me, a small, little, four year old. I will never forget you, you loved me for me.