Brutal. Two years today. My partner’s father passed. No warning. Out in public. In front of the whole family. Absolute devastation. Funeral then pushed forward to first day of lockdown. Avoided unattended goodbye. Only a handful of us. No wake. Little comprehension of why all this time later.

He has left a huge void. Created a strong and wonderful legacy. A beautiful daughter. A son. And wife. A Nanna to sparkling grandchildren. The one he never met. Remarkably has taken his features. And his name. An indelible bond forever.

Valued the importance of family. Taught me how to write. Ironic. Never saw him with a pen. Unleashed a style. Tapped into an ability to express. Be vulnerable. Raw. Authentic. Punchy. Emotive stories which resonate widely. RIP Badger. Named after the streaks in his hair. Remembered. Loved for who he was.

Grief. Bereavement. For those been through it. Going through it. Not linear. A look. A word. A moment. Suddenly engulfed. Where did that come from. Reassuring in other ways. Still there. Time does heal. But plaster can be ripped off at any time. And the wound never totally recovers. Adapt. You live with the discomfort.

You will know what I mean. Never forget Tuesday.