I just wanted to say that.
They pitch up, every week, we game (currently x-crawl) and we laugh, and they lead me out of the gloom of a Friday night and into the new week.
And life is good.
I can see his face in my mind today, all over the place. I can see his living, laughing, loving face, and his cold, dead, still face. I can feel his skin under my hands, both times. I can hear him tell me he loves me, that he's never been this happy, that they are ex's for a reason, that he'd love a cup of tea, that Joe is his streamline racing kitty, all the things he always says on a Saturday, when we spend a lot of the morning in bed, some of it in town, some of it talking about whatever nonsense the She-ex is on about now, or whatever stunt the He-Ex is trying to pull, and the afternoon snugged up together before getting ready for game.
I went to the shed for some tiles, and his bags are still there. Still there. Blue, marked with the hospital tags. Charlie and I have discussed options, and we're going to deal with them. Then his friends and I will take the AC somewhere to return his ashes to the ground, because his last blood is in them. AC will have somewhere to go, that he understands, because he doesn't understand how Ian just took Rich and threw him on a hill (according to the AC) without us and without the BG, just like we didn't matter. The AC doesn't understand wht the BG wasn't allowed to come to her own Daddy's Celebration, even if it was a long way away.
*phone*
(then bed.)
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