Brain tumours have always played a significant role in my life.

Some of you may already know, but I myself was born with a benign optic glioma. It's a non-cancerous tumour that's wrapped around my right eye's optic nerve. It doesn't play a huge role in my life today, and I often forget that I have it - but when I was a child, it was a different experience. My family & the doctors I frequently visited weren't sure how it would develop or if it would grow, leading to many doctor's visits, tests and scans. Fortunately though, to this day, it hasn't grown a millimetre. Doctor's visits went down from every week, to every other week, every month, year - then eventually to none at all for the most part, apart from the odd mention of it during a regular eye test. It turned out to be fine.

That isn't where my experience with brain tumours end, though. When I was around 10 years old, our Mum sat me, my brother and my sister down, who were around the same age as me at the time, and told us our Dad had developed a brain tumour, and this one was unfortunately very aggressive & cancerous. My Dad's side of the family has a history with brain tumours, which is likely why I was born with one.

Once discovered, it was already too late. This tumour was fierce. He was told that if he was lucky, he would have a year to live. My Dad, William Charles Leman, was diagnosed with Stage 4 Brain Cancer in February and passed away in December, 2007. He was 42 years old.

My Dad, our Dad, was a great man.

Of course he was, he was our Dad. He was a shining beacon of happiness and hope to so many. Not just to me, or our family. In fact, on the day of his funeral, you couldn't see the end of the line where people had queued to pay their respects. For years we were left confused and angry as to how such an admirable & harmonious soul could be taken so soon from us. They say God picks his favourites first.

My Dad was everything I aspire to be. His loving & carefree attitude towards life, the world, and those who reside in it is something I will always admire. He was a hard working man, and a very creative soul, too - being the lead singer of his own band, which you can listen to yourself with the link at the top. Lord, was he a lover of music. I remember how he used to go on business trips carrying a large & very heavy suitcase filled to the brim with CDs. This was standard practice for him. You should've seen his reaction when we finally introduced an iPod to him. He was never a fan of technology, still operating business with letters instead of email up to the day of his passing, but he was willing to let this one slide. My poor Mum spending all those nights burning all those discs to the damn thing. Each time she was done with a stack, my Dad would waddle in with an even greater stack with a devious grin on his face.

He loved to share his passion for music, getting creative with his gigs everywhere he went. He played a lot down at our local pub that he loved. He built a large canopy to the garden area for them. Carpentry was another one of his passions he did well. With that, his attitude towards life and his long hair, me and my siblings would jokingly compare him to Jesus when we were younger. When my brother was older he worked behind the bar at that pub, and would often get many compliments and stories from people day in and day out about his old man's antics. He really was a character in his own right. My brother ended up getting a tattoo of him on his right arm more recently, which you can see in the video at 3:10.

I attribute my own creativeness & love for music to him. I like to think that my best editing trait is sound editing, having the ear to pick out the perfect song and sounds for each situation. I attribute all of it to my Dad. I like to think I adopted his carefree attitude as well in a sense, I could never look at life and the world in such a serious manner knowing I'm his son. My absolute love for humour and making people laugh? Gotta be him.

I have many more stories to tell of my Dad, and I'll happily share them on my Twitch streams leading up to & after the event.

My Dad was a brave man.

You might think in those 10 months up to his passing it was all doom & gloom. Of course, there were many sad times. That being said, it was a while ago now, but the main memories that come to mind during that time are all positive. He had every reason to be upset and bitter at the world, having worked so hard to create a fulfilling life & foundation for his family, only for him to be told it would be taken away within the space of a year, never having the chance to see himself & his family grow... but he didn't. If anything, he doubled down on his positive & carefree attitude. I never saw him angry or upset once during that time. At least, not that I can recall. He was always smiling and cracking jokes.

I remember during a family food shop, where we had intended to get healthy foods, our Dad had taken charge and put all sorts of crisps, ice creams, chocolates and the like into the trolley and encouraged us to the same, smiling & laughing along the way. This would never have happened any other time. I remember feeling down as we were pulling up, but he'd managed to turn it into a positive memory. He was able to do that a lot. Even when the tumour placed him in a wheelchair some months later, all I can see when I picture him sat there is his warm smile. "It'll be alright", said in such a nonchalant tone, would probably be his catchphrase.

The final time my Dad met with his doctor, he'd offered my him chemotherapy that could extend his life a few months more. "Will it get me out of this?", my Dad asked, pointing at his wheelchair. "No", the Doctor replied.

He shook his hand, and rolled himself out. The doctor sat there with quite the surprised look, according to my Mum. Some months later, he had wrote to my Mother, saying that he was "struck by his bravery". He accepted his fate and chose to live out the last months of his life on his own terms. His integrity & bravery is yet another few traits of his I aspire to have.

Life isn't fair.

I was fortunate enough to learn this at a young age. What I would give to spend another day with him now, as a fully grown man. That being said, I often remind myself how lucky me and my siblings were to have known our Dad for the time we had with him. I've heard many stories of people whose Dad's or Mum's had died when they were too young to really know them. I will forever be grateful to have had him as our Dad and having the fond memories I have of him and our family, rather than going off the words of what other relatives would say about him. We had a front row seat. Even though I have a lot of memories during the time he was ill, I don't look back on them with sadness or remorse. How could I? He was always smiling. Rather, I look back on them with joy and inspiration. They will stay with me forever.

I'd always felt terrible for my Mum, who had built this perfect life together with the man she loved and a blossoming family - only for her rock to be taken away within 10 months, leaving her widowed with three children. How strong she was to have raised us on her own. It wasn't easy for her, but she did her absolute best to make sure we stayed growing well together as a family. Somehow we managed, and some years later she had met the man who is now our Step-Dad, who was actually my old football coach from primary school. Me and my friends had always looked up to him. After our final football session we had with him, I actually cried. I would never have guessed he would turn out to become a major part of our lives. Funny how life turns out sometimes... I couldn't have asked for a better Step-Dad.

I always wanted to do a charity event for my Dad,

and with this being my first marathon, combined with my love for running, it felt like the right time. My Dad said he didn't want to be forgotten when he was gone. That always seemed funny to me, how could someone forget someone like that? With this event, I feel like it'd be a great way to honour his memory, which is why I'm raising money for The Brain Tumour Charity, a charity that *shocker* specialises in brain tumour research and is local to me. I feel like I'll be honouring my Dad, those affected on his side of the family, all those who took care of him when he was ill, and me as well when I was little.

If you've read everything up to this point, thank you. It means a lot to know someone's taken an interest in our Dad's life. With all this being said, it only makes sense for me to contribute something to the science of defeating brain tumours, no matter how significant or insignificant that contribution may be. Any support at all you may be willing to give is so greatly appreciated.

Thank you once more, gang. Much love. 💛

- Brad