From Ross' mum.
When Ross had his final diagnosis, knowing it would break my heart, he gave the news in a way that was almost an apology.
I tried to match his courage, but I couldn't help crying. I told him, 'Nothing and no-one has ever broken you and nothing and no-one ever will. There's not a day of your life when I haven't been proud of you.'
He thanked me then, smiling, he replied, 'What, even the time I came home from university and rifled through all the cupboards to find my present before Christmas?'
'Well, that wasn't your finest hour, but yes, even then.'
'What, even the time I hid in the rain and pounced on you as you walked past and you jumped a mile in the air?'
By this time he had me laughing, remembering him as a boy. 'Okay, you could be a pain, but always fun.'
At the very end, there was no fun, but Ross did remain unbroken to the last, his spirit and dignity shining through the pain. He never complained, not once, all his care focused on those he loved.