It’s a wholesome sight, seeing two of my closest friends being greeted with such love by the important people in their lives, those who’ve missed them while they’ve been away. Obviously I wish Pia was here to do the same for me, the twinge of sadness is not going anywhere, but I know if she were still alive she’d be walking through the arrivals gate with me, not waiting for me on the other side.

While I’m taking it all in, a grin firmly on my face, a hand rests on my shoulder, giving me quite the surprise.

‘All right, son?’ says a voice I’ve known all my life.

I turn to see my mum and dad, both smiling up at me cheekily, with tears in their eyes. My dad is a short man whose talent for athletics makes him slight, and time in the sun makes his skin golden. My mum is also short but less sporty, her softness always giving way to the best hugs I could have asked for growing up, or indeed right now.

‘Mum, Dad!’ I say, scooping them both up and holding them close.

‘It’s our tradition,’ Mum says, although there’s no need to remind me. For every trip Pia and I had ever been on our return was quite the spectacle, with both our families coming to greet us after our extended time abroad. Although all of those trips were for far longer than this one and they had usually spent the months we were away waiting for us to get to internet cafés so we could update them on what we were doing. I think they used to love coming to the airport just so they could check we’d both made it back in one piece.

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ I say, not realizing how much it would mean to have them greeting me until it’s happened.

‘You thought we wouldn’t be here?’ laughs Mum, as though I’ve said the most ridiculous thing. I suppose I did. There was no reason for me to doubt them waiting in arrivals when I walked through, yet I’ve had to say goodbye to so many traditions. It felt safer to overlook this one.

‘And …’ Dad says, his hand reaching behind him to let others in.

‘Hello, you,’ says Pia’s mum, Anju, her husband Sajan hovering behind her, waving over her shoulder.

We always laughed that all of our parents were pint-sized, as was Pia – whereas I was the only one out of all of us that was taller than five foot seven. Not massively, but enough for it to become a funny point of conversation between us. The thought makes me smile as I look at the group of four in front of me.

‘Thank you!’ I say, giving each of them another hug, enjoying their squeezes.

‘Good time?’ asks Dad.