The Cracks Beneath: Meet Liam
Portraits from Holding On: Love, Loss, and the Spaces Between
Meet Liam.
When I started writing Holding On, I thought Liam would be comic relief—the wild little brother with the oversized heart. But as the story deepened, so did he.
He’s not just the kid who can’t sit still. He’s the one who notices when everyone else is too tired to speak. He’s the one who crawls into bed with you after a hard day, not because you called him, but because he felt it.
Liam doesn’t know how to name his grief yet—but he feels it. In his bones. In his stories. In the way he hugs and runs and yells and loves with his whole body.
If you’ve read Chapter 5, you’ve already seen it—that raw, unfiltered burst of emotion when words just won’t do. But don’t mistake his chaos for a lack of depth. His arc may be noisy, but it’s also deeply tender.
Here’s a closer look at the boy whose cracks let all the light in:
Liam Williams
8. Explorer. Storyteller. Heart-on-His-Sleeve Little Brother.
Appearance
Lean and wiry, always in motion—like his legs haven’t caught up with his ideas.
Blonde hair that never lies flat, no matter how hard Rachel tries.
Bright green eyes that dart everywhere, taking in everything.
Graphic tees and hand-me-down shorts. Mismatched socks. A stick in one pocket, a pinecone in the other.
Personality
Vibrant. Affectionate. Deep-feeling.
Liam lives out loud. When he’s happy, you know. When he’s sad, you feel it—even if he doesn’t say a word.
He tells stories to understand the world. Builds things to make sense of the chaos.
Hugs like he means it. Plays like it’s his job.
He’s still learning how to sit with hard feelings—but he’s trying. And that trying is everything.
Backstory
Liam is a child of stories.
He soaked up Ralph’s tales like sunlight. Climbed into Lily’s lap to hear about animals and art and places that only exist in dreams.
He’s always been the wild one—but not the reckless one.
Nature grounds him. So does Emma. And so did his grandparents.
Now that Ralph and Lily are gone, Liam is learning that grief doesn’t always look like tears. Sometimes it looks like building a tiny fort in their honor. Or scribbling a “thank you” note to the sky.
Relationships
Rachel (Mum): She’s his safety net. His lighthouse. The one who kisses scraped knees and holds him a little tighter when he doesn’t understand why he’s crying.
Emma (Sister): His compass and his co-creator. He drives her mad, and she still always makes room for him.
Ralph (Granddad): The spark. The storytelling partner. The reason Liam believes every dog has a secret name and every tree holds a memory.
Lily (Grandma): The quiet magic. He remembers how she smiled when he gave her wildflowers—even when they were mostly weeds.
The Heart of His Story
Liam teaches us that joy and sadness aren’t opposites—they’re dance partners.
That sometimes you run around the garden not to escape the pain, but to let it move through you.
That grief, when met with love and play, becomes something we can carry. Together.
This is Liam.
And Holding On is the story of how his wonder, his wildness, and his open heart help a family find its way back to each other.