Paul called me Sue.

He didn’t call me Sue all the time. He called me Sue when I was having fun, when I was carefree, when I was allowing myself to truly be me. He recognised that by doing this, he gave me permission to live my life the way I wanted to, and that I didn’t need to apologise for it.

I’ve since moved away from London, and I’ve made new friends; they call me Sue too. I treasure it. It’s precious, and it’s full of love.

What I’ve come to realise is that Paul didn’t only do this for me. He did it for people throughout his life. People he’d just met. People who needed comfort. People who needed to find a new family and support when they’d had none before.

He did this through his work with the Titans, helping hundreds of people find family, home, and comfort in a huge and daunting place called London. He did this because he was kind, caring, and one of the most compassionate and honest people you could ever hope to meet.

I will always be called Sue when I’m out having fun and being my best self. That means I will always remember Paul during the best times of my life. But I’m also privileged that, during the worst times, I’ll be able to think about the advice and support he would have given me to get through them.

In Ealing, we had a chosen family, and Paul was fundamental to that. I will be forever grateful. I will love him forever, and miss him always.