338 days….

a day where I’ve had the living shite scared out of me multiple times.

It started when K came into our bedroom at 3:28 am (I know the time because I looked at the clock).  She was certain that someone had broken in and was in the lounge room.

You know I’m not at my most logical in the wee small hours, so I crept out with a cricket bat (hello – what was *I* gonna do with that?) and found … nothing.

Then I looked at the locked doors.


So then I lay with her, waiting for her to go back to sleep because she was seriously freaked out.  I’m assuming it was a bit of a temperature associated with her spewing bug giving her bad dreams.

So cut to 6am when the alarm goes off and I hear the news – TC Yasi is now category 5 and heading for Cairns / Atherton.  The bugger is still expected to be a category 3  when it hits Atherton!! Can you imagine??

…and it’s the size of Queensland.

Immediately, I worry about all our friends living in FNQ.

So my stomach sinks further.

Then, I dropped K off at Mum and Dad’s for the morning so she could sleep away the remains of her bug while I was at work…… when I see Mum’s face.

The woman can’t hide anything from me.

Terry was in a bad car accident on Sunday.

Stomach now at floor / breakfast ready to come up.

She didn’t want to tell me on the phone.

The good news is that Terry is OK, and out of hospital with bad bruising.  He didn’t want Mum to tell me at all.

Thank God he appeared in the driveway just as she told me so I could see he was OK.

His truck isn’t.  He was using it on Sunday when he was volunteering for flood clean-up duties when someone mistook him for a carpark and drove into him, flipping the truck and then telling him it was his fault.

He was a little concussed and he believed them and spent an anxious night worried that he’d caused an accident.  But it seems from the details he is able to remember, it certainly wasn’t his fault.  He’ll know by the weekend when the police give him their report.

Thank God he is just sore and sad.

Not like you.

You never got that chance.  You were killed instantly. or so they tell me.

Do not pass go.

Just …. gone.

…and it still hits that special black place  in the pit of my stomach 11 months and 1 day later.

I miss you.

I love you.


PS –  I am damn glad that bloody cyclone is nowhere near here – I’ve got no idea how to secure your remaining junk in the backyard!