There’s a scene in the cult film Shawshank Redemption, when Morgan Freeman’s character, called Red, reflects on the escape by his old friend, Andy, from the brutal Shawshank prison. It’s a bleak and cruel place, where the inmates survive by giving up all hope of a better life. Into that dark and terrible landscape, Andy had arrived, unjustly convicted, and despite everything the prison threw at him, he refused to give up hope: ‘hope is a good thing’, Andy says. ‘Maybe the best of things.’

After Andy has escaped, Red and the other men swap stories of the long years when Andy was with them and the countless ways in which he made their lives better. And then Red says this:

“Those of us who knew him best, talk about him often […] Sometimes it makes me sad though, Andy being gone. I have to remind myself that some birds just aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. But still, the place you live is that much more drab and empty now they are gone. I guess I just miss my friend.”

His words beautifully and perfectly sum up how these last months have felt since Pete left us. He should never have been ‘caged’, as Red put it, the way that the Motor Neurone Disease gradually and so cruelly locked away the amazing man we knew. And when he was finally released from its hold, a part of me certainly felt relieved for Pete; that his pain, his suffering, his imprisonment were finally over. He was free.

But still, without doubt, this place – my life – is that much more drab, more empty, less colourful, less fun, now that he is gone. I know that I am different, changed, because of the most special years I had journeying with Pete, walking and running and working alongside such a remarkable man. I think of him often. I still laugh when I think of some of the things we did and the conversations we had. I read again and again the book of poems he gave me, and remember why he loved them. I’m relieved and glad that he no longer has to suffer. That he is free now. That the flickering candle of hope that he carried all his life never went out. But often, I still feel sad.

I guess I just miss my friend.