2 phone calls today. The Death Certificates will come in a week or so and then the coroner’s report. He had heart disease. Bigtime. With all major arteries clogged and blocked. The heart muscle damaged.
And so he died in the Forest.
OK Grief, my well dressed Friend. I will not be using the generic, 80s-90s-00s pacifying placating woolworths techniques on you, despite the good intentions of some of my acquaintances and officialdom combined with .orgs online. You have encountered another of the old anarchist feminist radicals of the 60s and drug fiends of the 70s with a taste for the melodramatic. I am not afraid to wail and mourn and scream OCHA. And sob unreservedly in my bed at night. Nor am I afraid to look like a dickhead. I am bringing out the big guns on you today. Try to survive this treatment, why don’t you ?
PS I also will NOT be sitting in a bathtub with sweet candles burning in the dark. It always brings PSYCHO clips to mind and doesn’t comfort me at all. Aimless eating of Maccas helps. Now – take this, Grief.