145 days…

Weekends are no fun.  I anticipate them all week and then they are just so flat when they get here.

Your sister N and D came over this morning to pick up a fridge (the stainless one you picked up from the side of the road and repaired).  They also took that bunch of old doors from under the house and moved a mattress out to the footpath for council cleanup.  I made them work for the fridge.

On the up side, both of them were very clear about supporting me in the farm debacle … and warned me not to ever have GC in my debt as he never repays money.  Good to know. … not that I was planning on it.

I had a big cry in the garage after they left. I really haven’t touched much in “your” space and it just feels so sad knowing that you’ll never tinker in your workshop again.  It’s just so wrong that you aren’t here.

I also got another call from the police officer today … as soon as I see police these days, my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach and I start shaking.

She let me know that the report is submitted in draft form but that it will still be months before the coroner gets around to ticking the box and signing it off.There’s still no single causal factor, but the fact that the car wasn’t speeding makes me feel good … and makes me want to slap stupid bastards who seem to think it was.  Even the police officer said she’d had a go at other officers who were crapping on about speed.  Good.

She said more stuff that I won’t write here.

At any rate, you were the passenger doing your job.  A job you’d done a thousand times on a thousand cars.

I can’t wait for all this  shite to be over.  It just makes the whole process of losing you even harder.  I just want everything sorted out and to be back in control.

I want to feel safe.  and loved.

That’s going to take a long while…

I love you.  You really  are my soul mate.