From here

So, where do we go from here? It’s difficult to know, to move on without you and a while ago it seemed an insurmountable task. A memory keeps coming back to me, from the night you left me. Your cousin and her husband had arrived and I will always remember them for the kindness they showed at that time. The funeral director had pulled up outside the house and as I looked outside, I cursed the sun for daring to rise, having already taken the battery out of the clock on the wall. However, despite my great efforts nine months have passed by and still you are gone.

I think it’s fair to say that not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought about this blog, just as not a second goes by when I don’t think about you, even now. I have desperately wanted to continue and have now got to the stage where I don’t know why I haven’t kept up writing. Writing is what I do, I write, everyone knows that. Sitting here tonight has been a stark reminder of why I stopped, remembering just how hard it is to talk to you in this way.

I think to continue this story further, delving into the past is going to be required so I’m going back to the story of how 1944 hurtled to 1977, continued on along side each other and then crashing into each other in 2004.

Bear with me if I repeat things I have already talked about, of course the benefit of hindsight may catch me too. You’ll also forgive me if my memory has failed me, as it often does.