AN: We all know a bit about Mark, Roger, Joanne and Mimi's relationships with their parents, since they appear in the show. I started to wonder about the rest of them, Benny, Maureen, Angel and Collins, and how their relationships with their parents were. This is one thought.

Dear Mother

How are you? That seems so inadequate after not having talked to you for so many years. I don't even know if you still live on the same address. Not that it matters. I'm never going to send this letter anyway.

I wonder sometimes. Do you ever miss me? Do you ever regret what you said? Do you ever think about me at all, or have you erased me completely from your memories.

I just want to know why. What did I do wrong? Why do you hate me so much? You loved me unconditionally for twenty-two years. How could three words change our entire lives? I know it's against what you believe in, but I'm your son. Wasn't I worth an exception?

I am gay, mother. Nothing can ever change that, nothing ever will. It's part of who I am. It doesn't make me less of a man. It shouldn't change anything between us. You're my mother. You're supposed to love me and support me, no matter what. What happened to that?

Mother… I can't even bear myself to call you mom. I don't know you anymore. If I were to meet you in the street I'm not even sure I'd recognise your face. You're a stranger to me now. But I still miss you so much it hurts.

I've met someone. Someone I love with all of my heart and all of my soul. He's everything I could ever wish for. He's beautiful, talented, intelligent, kind and generous. And he loves me. He loves me! For the first time in so many years I'm finally happy again.

But that's not why I'm writing. There is something I think you should know.

I'm sick, mother. Yes, it's AIDS. I'm sure that's the first thing that came to your mind. After all, that's one of the things you said to me, remember? Homosexuality automatically brings on AIDS, wasn't that what you said? Two diseases for the price of one, right? I'm not sure if it was before or after you quoted the Bible to me. I didn't care what God thought about me. Or the church, or the neighbours, or anyone. I only cared about what you thought. And you betrayed me. I can help but thinking, that if it was so easy for you to turn your back on me, then did you ever love me at all? Or was it all a lie?

Anyway, I'm dying. I just wanted to tell you that.

But I'm never going to send this letter. Because I'm scared you won't even care.

Your son - Tom.