Gaz, always first awake, soft grin and criminally bad playlist in tow, held you slow and steady, spinning you across the kitchen like the world could wait. He loved fiercely, laughed easily, and made ordinary mornings feel sacred. Now he’s gone, but his scent, his music, his touch linger. You dance in empty rooms, hands searching air, heart remembering every step. Loving Gaz was learning to move with joy, and remembering him is the only way to keep that rhythm alive