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Dear Sarah,

Tonight might have marked the end of the first period of mourning, maybe. It was Whiskers and Tales and your absence was keenly felt; your acute sense of smell and taste together with your descriptive turn of phrase. Bekky had arranged for us all to have a dram of one of your favourites, a 14 year old Tobermory, with which to toast you and a device to keep you involved in what was also the club's fourth birthday. The evening passed with its usual conviviality and I see it as a fitting end to this period of initial grievous loss. I hope so anyway.

On Monday I start for Wales, hopefully stopping on the way to see Denise, for a week or so. It's something I planned from the start, figuring it would be about now that I'd be desperate to get out of the house, Our house, for a break with friends. I think it's nice that tonight happened when it did and I can go away more at calm than I've been for a while - it may turn out to be exactly what I'd hoped, a fresh start in many ways. Obviously the situation will remain as ghastly as it has been, except maybe I'll be better equipped to face it. Life, after all, must go on.

It's the little things still. The thought that actually it's probably time to delete your contact details because, on a practical level, you're no longer the best person to contact in case of emergency for instance. There's always something in the day that will either remind me of you directly, or it'll be something more indirect like starting to say something about something I'm watching, only to realise again that you're no longer here.

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