I was down at the cemetry on Sunday just past. It was a lovely day, and all the wee birds were singing and flying about. I think they were swifts or swallows, though I know Allan would have known what type they were for sure, being a country boy... I just wanted to come down and wash and polish the headstone. No big flower arrangements, no shows this time; just me, my cleaning stuff and the headstone. It was a good idea to head down. That village looked deserted, seems there were more cars about than people, which was a good thing. The road up to the cemetry isn't the assault course of potholes it once was, so both my car and I are grateful for that small mercy... I won't say much except that I did cry, sitting on that bench, the bench where Allan and I should have ben sitting after tending his mum's grave; not me tending his. Sometimes I just don't know how or why I've survived this awful thing. Allan's the one I waited for all these years and then, despite it being such a good match for both of us, he dies. And more than a little bit of me died that day too. Do I have a purpose still unfulfilled? Was I the fulfilling purpose for Allan? If only I could have... Could have what Billy? Could have saved him? Could have noticed "the signs" beforehand and got him to a doctor? Not visited his profile on that internet site in 2008? What part would I want to erase from my life? How far back would I want to turn back the hands of time? I think about 1989 would be good. Wecould have found each other before we both had the bad relationships and maybe we'd have had 24 years together or more. Sorry Allan, I forgot the one thing I should have brought with me on Sunday. x