My dad died two months ago. Today, for the first time ever, I was shown some photos of him as a boy. This has affected me in the strangest way as I can’t stop crying. I feel so sad looking at this twelve year old in his thick glasses and shabby clothes that were far too big as obviously hand me downs. I always knew he had a poor childhood but I’m sobbing at seeing the reality. I want to go back eighty odd years and just cuddle and look after this little boy and make his life better.