What began as a way to survive our heartbreak, has grown into something truly powerful. Our Community Walk in Memory of Lync now raises thousands of pounds each year, bringing together around 90 participants made up of friends and family, for a challenging 32km route from Woodbank Park to Buxton. The walk is tough — it pushes you to your limits — but even this is nothing compared to the daily challenges faced by families like ours.

While it is a memorial, the walk is also a celebration of Lync’s life. Along the route, stories of him are shared, laughter recalls his brightest memories, and the love and support of everyone taking part ensure his name continues to shine. It’s a testament to the strength of community, the power of remembrance, and the enduring impact of a child’s life.

We are truly blessed with a wonderful support network and the kindest, most loving children. Wanting to be part of something meaningful, they stepped forward with enthusiasm and pride. Wearing their Lync to the Stars T-shirts, they walked, ran, or skipped their chosen distances — each step taken with love and purpose. Their determination was inspiring, with some children achieving over 15km in just three days! Their energy, compassion, and smiles remind us that even the smallest hearts can make the biggest difference.

On 12th September a small group of close friends took on the military obstacle course , coving over 10K and presenting up to 30 obstacles through the mud, cold and even fire to over take challenges designed to break your comfort zone and push you far past what you think your limits are. There were moments our legs were burning, arms shaking, and every part of us at times wanted to stop — but we pushed through. We weren't just doing this for us , it was a greater cause , for awareness and creating an echo that stretches further than just the finish line. Our team - Lee , Brad , Shane , Adam C , Liam M , Adam M , Rob , Granny , Craig , Jonny , Craig S, Jonny , Scott , Callum and Silky wore their tops with pride , making every step count for our Lync!

Early on in our journey we took on a challenge that would push any athlete to their limits — running a half marathon to raise awareness for our cause. Doing it for my boy, myself, and others helped drive us forward and kept us focused on why it mattered. Each mile was a practical way to honour Lync ,family and friends to highlight the importance of the support needed for anyone going through such a loss. We ran to bring attention to the reality of grief and to make sure the cause was recognised. To infinity and beyond my boy!

Special mention to our team - Dot , Norris and Karl.

On the 6th February I stepped in front of a punch bag and stayed there for 24 hours. One bag. One man. One long fight. This wasn’t just about raising money for Lync to the Stars. It was about something deeper — showing a glimpse of what grief really feels like. Not what people see on the surface, but the constant fight that comes with losing a child. I knew it would be hard. I expected pain, exhaustion, moments where my body would tell me to stop — and it did. My arms ached, my energy dropped, my head got loud. There were times I wanted out. But even then, I knew something else — that pain had an end. Every hour I could step away, reset, breathe. People were there supporting me, keeping me going. Even at my worst, I wasn’t alone. And that’s the difference. Because losing Lync doesn’t stop. There’s no timer, no break, no reset. It’s waking up and remembering. Carrying something heavy while trying to smile. Living in a world that keeps moving when part of yours stood still two years ago. When it hurt most, I kept coming back to one thought: Living without my boy is harder than this. That’s what kept me going. It felt personal. Like I was fighting for him — and that’s something I’ll never stop doing. This wasn’t about proving strength. It was about making invisible pain visible. Showing that behind the smiles, there’s a battle most people never see. I may have been on the bag, but I wasn’t alone. The support — on the day and beyond — carried me through. Every message, donation, and moment of support meant more than I can explain. I know not everyone will understand this way of coping, and that’s okay. I wouldn’t expect them to. But for me, this was something I had to do — a way to focus, to fight back, to turn pain into purpose. Because that’s what this is about. Keeping Lync’s name moving forward. Helping other families. Doing something with the pain instead of being consumed by it. It might look like I’m taking on the challenges, but everything we do is together. The strength behind Lync to the Stars comes from all of us — family, friends, and everyone who stands with us. The 24 hours ended. The support was incredible. The challenge was real. But grief didn’t stop when the timer did. And it never will. So neither will I. For Lync 💙