13/03/2026
I got off the plane last night to the news that a friend of mine has gone.
Packed his bags and quietly walked into Valhalla.
No rhyme.
No reason.
I hope you’re giving them hell up there.
We only saw each other a couple of times a year, but every single time I was greeted like an old friend. That was you.
I was the photographer. Your photographer.
And it was an honour and privledge to stand behind the lens and capture your feats of strength.
Nothing was unattainable to you. If there was a way, you found it.
I watched you lift and move things that didn’t seem humanly possible — with nothing but strength, grit, and pure stubborn grind. And even when the nurse in me could see you were hurting, you kept going. The stuborn refusal to bow to the cards you had been dealt, the quiet determination that said one more rep, one more lift, keep moving, keep going.
That’s who you were.
You inspired more people than you probably ever realised. You didn't just lift heavy things. you lifted people, you inspired them and you changed lives just by being the person you were.
And I’m not sure any photo I ever took truly captured the whole of you, the real you.
I’m grateful I got the chance to train beside you.
24 Hours for Heroes.
That smile. That quiet nod.
Somehow you made the impossible feel doable.
My heart is broken.
I keep writing this in the wrong tense because it still doesn’t feel real that you’re gone.
Some people pass through your life; Others leave a mark that never fades
You were one of those people
Rest easy, Huddo.
Valhalla gained a warrior.
