


Be exactly who you are — even in a house full of motorbikes
His dad is a World Superbike champion, and yet Luca was scared of anything with wheels and an engine. Fearless in the water, fearless in hospital — just not on two wheels. And that was perfectly, wonderfully him.
Jump in... even before you can swim.
In the water he had no fear at all. Barely two years old, he'd leap straight in and swim with his face under, those big green eyes looking up at you.
Always go first — and never let anyone walk in front of you.
He had to be first at everything, every time. And we all knew the consequences of winning a race we were meant to let him win.
Only ever the big Kinder bar.
M&S pizza, Benidorm in bed to fall asleep, and Kinder bars — but only the big ones. Small joys, done properly.
Laugh at everything — especially the naughty words.
His brother Olly would teach him swear words just to watch him run and repeat them to Mum. That cheeky laugh could fix almost anything.
Say “I love you” out loud, all the time.
He cuddled everyone and told them he loved them, over and over — and couldn't bear to see a single person upset.
Teach yourself something, then tell everyone.
He taught himself to read at three — we only found out when he read us his favourite book — and always had a fact about the planets or dinosaurs we'd never heard.
Meet the hard days with a smile and a hug.
He took every hospital visit in his stride, with a massive smile and a hug for everyone in the room.
Never once say “I don't want to go.”
Three weeks of being put to sleep every day for radiotherapy, always with a smile. He never complained. He never gave up.
Notice the sad ones, and cup their face.
In the hospital lift he reached up to a sad old man, cupped the man's face in his hands and looked deep into his eyes. The man walked out lighter than he came in.