Oh dear.

Oh dear.

Just oh dear.

Today is 19 weeks since I last saw Rich.  I'm still dealing with the stuff left over, even though I'm not the next of kin.  What else can I do?  It's not I-t-B or the She-Ex who gets the letters, because Rich lived here.

Last night there was a whole world of conversation about Rich's medal.  It was sent to BG apparently.  That's ok.  I'm fine with that.  I know how Rich felt about that medal.  When I look around the house though, where Rich's presence is everywhere, in his uniform, his clothes, his dressing gown (which even now I am snuggled up in!) his cups, his coats, his dice, his everything, is here.  Somewhere are his ashes.  Somewhere is the flag from his coffin, which was what was demanded so long ago by the She-Ex.  Somewhere is his medal.  These things were not apportioned by me, and I would have done things differently, and accorded the things of importance to those who deserved them and for whom they had relevance.

But at the end of the day, and perhaps with the security of a solicitor behind me, I know that what is here, is here.  What is there, wherever there is, is there.  I can't stop the bickering, although I will try.

I did refute the She-Ex's allegation that it was *me* who was trying to take the medal from BG.  I would never try and take something like that from a child.  It isn't that which I would have given her, but as long as it is kept safe (and that side of things does bother me, in all honesty) then that's the way it is.  She can't wear it, cuddle it, or anything like that.  Only I know the stories that go with it, which means that until she finds those out, it's pretty much just "something"

It's all so sad.

Sadder though, is the reasoning behind all this madness.