Ash

Ashley was truly one of a kind. There’s no other way to say it.

A bright, bold, beautiful soul — fiercely funny, deeply determined, and endlessly resilient. He lived on his own terms, with a fire in his spirit and a softness in his heart. He didn’t just pass through this world— he left his mark on it. He had the most incredible eyelashes you’ve ever seen — long, dark, and curling up like they were drawn by an artist’s hand. At just two years old, he won the ‘Most Beautiful Baby’ competition. We already knew that we had someone extraordinary in our arms.

Ashley was clever. He was strong. He was stubborn when he needed to be, and hilarious when you least expected it. But above all he was real. Unapologetically, authentically himself. He was pure.

To Ashley, we weren’t simply Mum and Dad. We were ‘the parents.’ Sometimes ‘Zoe and John.’  And occasionally, Dad was ‘Johner.’ He said it with cheek, with love and often with perfect comic timing.

Ashley was, without a doubt, a daddy’s boy. The bond between him and John was something sacred, something written in the stars long before either of them walked this earth. They understood each other in a way only a father and son could.

And me? I had the rare honour of being called ‘Gimpo.’ It was silly. It was brilliant. It was pure Ashley. If he teased you, he adored you. And oh, how he adored us. Ashley had the biggest heart for the people in his life. He was social, cheeky, charming — a proper character. He loved his people fiercely… nearly as much as his crisps! He adored his Uncle Dee and his legendary brews. ‘Choose six’ were Ashley’s first words to him. He looked forward to Saturday treats and water balloon fights with new Auntie Michelle and Uncle Lee Simon Fielding. Emily Hope and Connie Faith always brought extra joy —and curry crisps. He loved razzing past Sarah and Sharran Fielding’s houses. Oh, he loved his Maureen Brown and cousin Max — especially when they were swearing together and getting told off in equal measure. They’d both laugh and try to outdo each other. When he’d had enough, he’d simply say, ‘Goodbye, Maureen Brown.’ That was Ashley: honest, direct, and always on his terms. He loved it when Emma and Charlie popped round for a brew — especially if Emma happened to be wearing her sky-blue jeans. Dave Fletcher with Margaret Mazda always got a fist bump and a happy smile.

To be loved by Ashley was to be truly chosen. He didn’t hand out his heart lightly. If you were part of his world, it meant everything.

Ashley didn’t just live, he taught us how to live. He taught us resilience. He taught us how to feel — fully, fearlessly. He showed us how to laugh in the face of absurdity, how to break the rules that didn’t make sense, and how to cherish the moments that did. He gave us all memories we’ll carry until the end of our days, some that will make us smile, some that will make us cry, and many that will do both at the same time.

Ashley loved curry, table picnics, and KFC, as long as it wasn’t greasy and the perfect sounding crunch and came with Yorkshire-worthy gravy. He bowled like a champion (in his own way, though I suspect he was in it for the free Wimpy), chair-danced like no one was watching, and called bingo at the youth club with the driest humour you’ve ever heard. He loved birthday parties, unless you were in charge of making the cake, Michelle. He had high expectations… we will not mention the dirty chested Pingu cake. He was a quiet genius, amazing at spelling, clever with words, and a human

homing pigeon. His memory was second to none. He had an encyclopaedic knowledge of films — actors, actresses, studios — all stored perfectly in his head. The same went for music. His taste was wildly eclectic, and he went to hundreds of live gigs… but definitely no opera!

He loved razzing around in the car, driving all over the country. Every Sunday we’d plan his week — sometimes it was McDonald’s, other times it was Blackpool, or just a trip through the Mersey Tunnel for the fun of it. Nowhere in the country was safe. What the system expected was to put Ashley into a neat little box, defined by a label that simplified who he was and dictated what his life would look like after turning 18. They expected him to fit their set narrative, follow their rules, and stay within their limits. But we pushed back hard against that. We refused to let those expectations control his story or limit his future. Instead, we fought for Ashley to be seen as a unique person beyond any label or age boundary. To be the perfect individual he was, without any constraints. We sure showed them didn’t we our Kev?

Ashley faced all challenges with the same courage and grace that defined him. At 27, he had his first seizure. For three years, he was clear, strong, vibrant, full of life. Then, at 30, he had his second final seizure. I was there at the very beginning of his life, and I was there at the end. We tried our best to save him.  Ashley, you were ours. And we were yours. We miss your voice. We miss your music. We miss your laughter, your teasing, your wild and wonderful heart. We just miss you. But we promise you this, we will always be the parents. And you will always be our son.

People used to ask us: “How did you do it? How did you care for Ashley?” And the answer is simple: Love. We didn’t do it because we had to. We did it because we wanted to. Because we couldn’t imagine doing anything else. It wasn’t a burden. It wasn’t a sacrifice. It was a privilege, the greatest of our lives. But the bond that ran deepest, the one that grounded him most, was the one he shared with his mum. He adored her. She was his home. His anchor. His safe place. When the world was too loud, her voice brought quiet. When everything felt uncertain, her presence gave him peace. To Ashley, she wasn’t just his mother. She was everything. And she always will be. Our son…

We closed our eyes for just a moment, and somehow, a man stood where our little boy had been. We may no longer be able to carry you in our arms, but we will carry you in our hearts — every moment, every day. You’ve given us a thousand reasons to be proud. But our proudest moment is the simplest one: telling the world, ‘that’s our son.’

We love you now. We love you always. And we will miss you with every single breath we take. Goodnight, love you, see you in the morning. Have a good sleep, our darling boy.

Mum and Dad