Things Gina would have...

Losing Gina turned our lives upside down. If coping with that wasn't enough, things I've taken for granted also seem to be crumbling around me. First the band folded, taking with it regular contact with friends and a constructive purpose. Personality clashes in Railcam have turned that into a chore with an uncertain future. Now 27 years of employment certainty have come to an end with the closure of the site which was my weekday home and band rehearsal space for over a quarter of a century. Today I closed the door for the final time, on an empty shell of a building, almost a year after I heard it would happen. It's another bereavement of sorts.

We're back in Glasgow. Back in Gina's flat. We've been here 2 nights and about to head home. Staying here isn't as traumatic as might be expected. Gina had moved out before her world crumbled and was happy here. Like our last visit, we don't want to leave, and the thought of having to sell the flat isn't a nice one. Out with Gina's partner last night we spotted one of the nurses who looked after Gina; one of the really good ones. She spotted us and there was hugging. It was nice to see her and I hope she got some comfort from seeing the three of us together after all we have been through.

Soon after Gina left us, when my brain was a confused muddle of random thoughts mixed in with all the shock and grief. I remember thinking that writing cards to family for birthdays and the like, would be hard. And so it is. For so long, I wrote my standard "From Pauline, Adrian, Gemma, Gina & Chris". Now, reduced to just four of us, it doesn't sound right in my head. It is incomplete and the rhythm is all wrong.

We have now passed six months without Gina. In the days since we passed the milestone, I've tried to think of something meaningful to write about it, but there is nothing to say. It's shit. That is all.