My darling husband was killed in a horrific car accident on March 1, 2010.

He and his offsider were testing a car that had come into the workshop ahead of correcting a steering problem.  For some reason the car crossed the median strip and was t-boned by a semi-trailer straight into the passenger side where my husband was sitting.  Both men were killed instantly.  Or so they tell me.

You need to know that both men were experienced drivers.  My husband learned to drive on the family farm when he was about 6.  He’s driven,  built and fixed more vehicles than I’ve had hot dinners.  His every-day car was a 308 … an oldie but a goodie.  He knew how to handle high-powered vehicles as did his offsider.  Defensive driving refresher courses were part of their WHS program.

You also need to know that mechanics test cars on public roads – believe it or not, this is how they make sure your car is running OK before they hand the keys back to you.  They do not have a special “test track”  in magical make-believe land for testing vehicles.   So many people have questioned why they were “testing”  a car on a public road like it was some kind of offence that I find the need to tell people how the system works … I’m sure you’ll excuse me for stating the obvious to you…

So why do I write him letters you ask?  Well, because I firmly believe he is near to me:  I can feel him but I can’t see him.  and … because it helps me cope.  It helps me be a better parent to our two small children. It helps me through the long nights and it stops me from approximating the number of days I suspect I will have to live through until I can see him again.

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My account of the worst day of my life can be also found here and here.  The second worst day of my life – Greg’s funeral – is described here.

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